Change

EMERALD

I made a face at the phone as the hold music grated further on my nerves than it already had over the past hour and fifteen fucking minutes.

The weekend had passed far too quickly in a blur of pure and unrefined ~happiness~, only to be shattered first thing on Monday morning with an email from Bloomfield saying that they were unable to secure my mother’s medical files.

I hadn’t been able to get in touch with Lance, which was irking me more and more as this stupid music cycled around on a circuit once again.

As had become the routine, I had brought lunch with me to eat with Tate, though I was beginning to doubt how much company I’d be still sitting on the phone with the doctor’s office.

I was getting less curious looks now that it had made the official news that Tate and I were “a thing,” but I didn’t miss the jealousy when women thought I wasn’t looking or the open craving from the men.

Candy had been thoroughly put in her place that first day and no longer bothered stopping me. Today, though, she practically jumped over the desk when I came out of the elevator.

“He’s in a state today, and I really hope you have some magic takeout in that bag because I’m afraid to breathe the same air as him right now,” she squeaked as she rushed open his office door.

I gave her a pitying look and a nod of understanding as I passed her. I’d been there more than a few times.

Tate was right, though. Even if she had the skills to do her job, she didn’t have the spine or the nerve to stay here for long. Firing her would be a mercy before the iron titan that was Mr. Tate King ruined her.

He sure did look the unforgiving boss right now, though. His face was hard and cold.

His whole body was lined with authority and the unyielding demand for instant obedience as he leaned back in his chair, striking a very contradicting image that had the men in the chairs across from him sweating bullets.

Damn, it was sexy as fuck, and my aching core was reminding me that we hadn’t had sex since my birthday.

I saw Tate’s nose twitch, and his eyes snapped from the underlings to me as all the cold stone fell away from his eyes for just me.

“Is that roasted chicken?” he asked me as I put the bag on the table in front of the sofa.

“It is.” I smiled, knowing he was asking if I had cooked it.

“Wait, are you ~still~ on the phone with your mother’s doctor?” He frowned.

“I’ve been on hold for most of it. I’m about ready to shoot the idiot that thought this elevator music bullshit was a good idea,” I snarled.

“Send me the reports by end of lunch,” he told the men, and they took the opportunity to leave eagerly. “Is this kind of hold normal?”

“I usually get all of my talking done at appointments.” I shrugged and sat down to unpack our food.

“What’s the clinic’s name?”

“Mid-City Medical. Doc Graves has a separate clinic, and all of his calls are transferred from the hotline,” I answered, and he picked up his phone.

“Peter Graves?” he asked me, and I nodded. “Good doctor.”

He really was. And he was fair and more than a little understanding of the situation. Normally, he didn’t accept payment plans, but he had for us after hearing what had happened to us in just that one year.

He also understood that our broken little family was doing everything we could to make it work, so he often didn’t mind if a payment was late or less than it should have been.

He’d also been trying to get Mom into a number of clinical trials since her diagnosis.

“Graves, it’s Tate.”

I looked up so fast my head spun.

“You have a patient whose medical files, for some reason, haven’t been transferred,” he said, looking at me. “Wells.”

“Tate,” I said, hanging up my phone. My ear screamed in relief.

“No, her daughter has been on hold for the entire morning,” he said with a bite of anger.

“Jesus, you’re really doing this?” I shook my head at him as he stared at me, completely unrepentant.

“Yes. Hold on,” he said and held the receiver out to me. “He needs your permission and where to send the files.”

I got up and took the phone as Tate got up to sit on the sofa where I had just been, eyes gleaming at the food I had brought.

“Dr. Graves?” I said.

“Ms. Wells, I apologize for the long hold. I have no idea what’s going on up there, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” the familiar voice came.

“What’s all this about transferring your mother’s medical files? Am I being replaced?”

“Not at all.” I smiled at his joking tone but felt it fall in the next second. “I’m sure you already know that she’s getting worse and ended up in the hospital.”

“Yes, it’s a common occurrence, unfortunately,” he said solemnly.

“Lance isn’t able to process out for another year with his benefits intact, and Mom’s landlord is no longer accepting month-to-month payments at leased rates.

“We’ve decided the best thing to do now is to put Mom in assisted living,” I explained.

“Ah, yes. You and your brother are quite level-headed about this whole ordeal and the kinds of things that come with it.

“Most of my patients’ families try to deny how serious the progression of the disease is,” he said. “I take it you have found one, then?”

“Bloomfield,” I said.

“A very good place for your mother. I have a few patients there already.” He sounded pleased. “I have to ask, though. Can you afford that?”

“Not on my own, but I’ve been reminded recently that isn’t the case anymore.” I looked at Tate as he licked his lips and looked up at me.

I gave him a small smile, and he nodded, the corner of one side of his mouth pulling up slightly in return.

“I’ll make sure the files are sent over right away and reviewed by the end of the day. I happen to know the people who own and run the place, and, off the record, I have no doubt her application will be accepted,” he said.

“Thank you, Doc,” I said.

“Not at all, Ms. Wells. If I had more families like you, my job would be far easier,” he replied.

After I hung up, I turned so my butt was resting on the edge of the desk, and I was leaning with my hands braced behind me and ankles crossed.

“Is there a problem?” Tate asked.

“You are an insanely pushy bastard”—I narrowed my eyes at him—“but thank you.”

“Anything for you, but you’re letting the food get cold.” He frowned.

I laughed as I went to sit next to him, laying my head on his shoulder.

“It doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would,” I said after a moment. “It still rubs the wrong way, but not as badly as I expected.”

“You do know that was his personal cell phone, right?” He lifted an eyebrow at me and handed me a plastic container when I sat up again. “I know him. Good man. Better doctor. Very expensive, even with insurance.”

“Stop right there.” I pointed the fork at him, then gestured to the table in front of us. “Not another word or I’ll take all of this and leave.”

“Consider it dropped. For now,” he said, taking a bite of chicken.

“How’s work been today?”

“A shitshow. We have a lot of open contracts that are faltering now, thanks to this bullshit,” he grumbled. “The board is getting nervous and has requested a meeting for this afternoon.”

“Don’t give them too much information,” I warned him, and he nodded.

“I don’t dare assume that Leo hasn’t been working some of them toward selling,” he said, a dark look on his face.

“Some of them might actually be willing to choose him if the price was high enough, despite the work I’ve put into this place.”

“You think some of them are stupid enough to miss the long-term benefits?” I asked around some rice.

“I think some of them are cut from the same greed-soaked cloth as my brother is.” He nodded. “I ~know~ two are, at least.”

“Shocking,” I said with a sarcastic roll of my eyes.

Tate regarded me for a while before he smirked, a quiet chuckle in his chest.

“If I had known what you were hiding behind all of that professional veneer, I’d have done this a long fucking time ago, Shrimp.” He shook his head and went back to eating.

“And what was that?” I asked.

“The sly wit, the humor and sarcasm that make me want to kiss you like a dying man, and the wholly terrifying and calculating mind of an enemy I’d never want to make,” he answered.

Seeing a carrot in my plastic container that he wanted, he tried to make a stab for it, but I blocked his fork and stabbed a potato from his and popped it into my mouth. “I was saving that.”

“Don’t make a play for my food and expect no repayments. I had competition for my meals growing up.

“Between Dad, Lance, and the never-ending stream of kids in and out of the house, I picked up skills you could never hope to beat.” I smiled around the potato.

“Noted.” He frowned at my food.

I rolled my eyes and speared the carrot and dropped it in his container.

“Asking gets you further, Treeman.” I bumped shoulders with him.

“Also noted.” He chuckled.

“So, you’re right about your assistant,” I said, leading into a new topic. “Given time, she’ll figure out how to do her job, but she’s too soft to work for you.”

“I’m not a monster, Emerald.” He rolled his eyes.

“You are when you want to be.” I shrugged. “You are, however, a very hard man to work for. She won’t last.”

“No, I don’t think she will,” he agreed. “Finding someone else is going to be a pain, though.”

“I can name three people right now that ~could~ do the job. The question isn’t about skill. A lot of people can answer phones and read emails. You need someone with a bit of iron in their spine, as my dad used to say.”

“Know anyone like that?” he joked.

“I do, actually.” I snorted. “I don’t think having my best friend work for you is a wise choice on your part, though. She knows too much.”

“It’s not like you didn’t know more than enough after a few weeks.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you worried?”

“God, no.” I laughed. “Macy has a type, and you aren’t it.”

“Get her in here, then.” He shrugged.

“She has a job, and honestly, I’m not sure she’s in the right mind to even entertain a change like that.” I shook my head.

“A bit of a setback in her romantic view of the world has her in a state that usually ends with one of us holding the other’s hair back after far too much to drink.”

“Isn’t there some kind of girl rule, code thing that says you should be looking for a club to take her to already?” he asked.

“That’s a thing, right? One of Vince’s ex-girlfriends in school did something like that for a friend of hers.”

“It is, but Macy will call when she’s done licking her wounds in private.” I giggled. “You really have no clue, do you?”

“None whatsoever.” He nodded, setting his empty container down on the table and taking mine when I handed it to him.

“I did my girl code duty when she came back from her trip to see the fucker that broke her this time.

“Now, she’ll sulk, and she sulks ~hard~. It’s a terrible sight to see, and she hates it when someone sees her like that, so I stay out of it unless I have a legit concern about her well-being.” I shrugged.

“She’s hurting, but she’ll be fine. She’ll call when she’s ready.”

“You said she has a romantic view of the world, which means you don’t?” he asked.

“What could have given that away?” I snorted.

“I think it was the tears of laughter when I tried to suffer through that ‘mushy bullshit,’ as you called it.” He smiled and sat back on the couch, both containers now empty, save the stray piece of rice here or there.

“I have a more realistic view, I guess.” I shrugged. “Fairytales aren’t real. Happily ever after is just as bad.”

“Happy endings aren’t fake.” He pulled a face.

“I didn’t say they were.” I laughed. “Happily ever after isn’t the same as a happy ending, Tate. The ‘ever’ in that is an abbreviation for ‘forever.’

“Meaning, basically, there is no point where they aren’t happy, which is complete bullshit to be feeding to the impressionable young girls of the world. Life isn’t a fairytale.

“It’s real and messy, and there are points in it that absolutely suck. If you don’t feel ~un~happy, never get hurt enough to knock you low for a while; you don’t fully understand what it means to ~be~ happy.

“Having a happy ending is accepting the shit you went through to earn that appreciation.”

“And Macy doesn’t agree?” he asked.

“She sees the good in everyone, even if there isn’t much of it to be seen,” I said as he took my hand in his.

“She believes with everything she has that people can be trusted, and the scum in the world see that and take advantage time and again.

“It’s her nature to be trusting, not a behavior, so it creates a vicious cycle that I’ve seen her go through a lot. It’s why I’m so judgmental of her boyfriends.

“She won’t see them as anything but good, so I have to put them under a microscope. I haven’t met one yet that I thought would be good enough for her.”

“You’re just like your brother.” He chuckled and kissed my knuckles. “Fiercely protective over the ones you love.”

“I learned it from him.” I smiled. “It was nearly nine months after he was adopted. He didn’t like Mom and Dad much. Liked me even less, it seemed.

“It was summer break, and there was this park down the road from where we lived. It was a safe neighborhood, so there was no reason for parents to worry about the kids walking by themselves or in small groups.

“Lance had gone with his friends before I trailed after them, desperate for my brother to like me, though I knew he never would. He had told me he hated me that morning, but I still had that craving, you know?”

“You wanted to be seen and accepted.” He nodded, his eyes a bit distant. Of course, he would understand, wouldn’t he?

“Well, every playground has its bullies, and this one was no exception. I was an emotional mess already, and it didn’t take much before I was crying, which made it worse.

“I don’t know if Lance would have done anything if the kid hadn’t grabbed my arm to stop me when I tried to leave.” I rubbed my wrist, the phantom of the memory bringing back the pain of the too-harsh grip.

“He was older than me, bigger than me, and I was surrounded by him and his three buddies. When I cried out that he was hurting me, he just kind of went limp as his face whipped to the side, Lance’s fist in his cheek.”

“Good. Little shit,” Tate muttered.

“Mom said much the same thing.” I laughed. “Looked about the same way you do now, actually.”

“So, Lance kicked their asses and things changed, right?” he asked, and I shook my head, smiling.

“It was four to one, and Lance was a skinny kid back then,” I said. “He knocked out the fucker that grabbed me, and he winded another, but the other two got him back before the adults at the park could break it up.

“Once they were separated, he did that brother thing where he hugged me, but he wasn’t really hugging me. Being the safe place for me because I was scared.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much experience in the ‘brother things,’” he said. “But I have a feeling I know what you mean.”

“Mom and Dad came to get us and after they did the whole talking to the other parents’ thing, they took us and got us ice cream.” I laughed.

“It was Mom’s idea, but Dad was nearly crying with pride every time he looked at Lance’s busted lip and black eye.

“After that, things slowly started changing. I became the little sister, but it took time for him to see Mom and Dad as ‘Mom and Dad.’ It bothered him since he knew he had a family before.”

“I’m glad things changed for you, Shrimp.” He kissed my fingers again.

“I’m glad things changed for Lance.” I smiled at him. “Even if he always hated me, I still wanted him not to be so sad all the time.”

“So selfless.” He chuckled.

“But I’m going to skin him when I get a hold of him,” I fumed, making him blink in confusion. “Fucking asshole hasn’t answered his fucking phone all morning.”

“Should I be concerned for your brother?” he asked, still stunned a little.

“A little.” I narrowed my eyes.

“Should Vince be informed?” he teased.

“As if I’d be that obvious.” I rolled my eyes. “No, but Lance better have a damn good reason or go deeper into hiding.”

“Those bunny slippers are getting a lot of action these days.” He laughed.

“For Lance, he gets a full-blown shoe.”

***

I went back to the penthouse and used the computer in Tate’s office like he said I could.

I double-checked my résumé and references, in case I needed it, then checked my email to find a stream of “sorry, but no” responses from the applications I had already put in.

Oddly, I hadn’t submitted any more since that night Tate and I got on the same page, finally. Well, maybe not the same page, but at least we got into the same book that night.

I waited for the panic to set in that I was relying too much on Tate so soon, but it didn’t come.

I actually felt oddly calm. Squeamish about the cost to his wallet but calm, nonetheless. It was a weird sensation, feeling nothing from good ol’ anxiety.

I stared at the screen for a second before I opened a new browser tab on a whim and typed in the web address for one of the local colleges.

I scrolled through the lists of courses and felt the gears in my head turning more and more as it ~finally~ started to sink in.

~I can do ~anything~ I want to do because I ~want~ to do it.~

I could be an art major, leaving me very little to no future career. Simply because I wanted to. I didn’t want to, but I ~could~. I liked art plenty, but it wasn’t what made my soul sing. I didn’t even have to pick a major.

I could enroll in a trade course or just improve my education with core classes.

I felt the smile on my face growing as the possibilities kept coming to me.

One after another, no matter how impractical or far-fetched, it was all possible now I didn’t have to think about how much time I could squeeze out for classes between sleep and work or how much money I could make with my degree.

I didn’t even notice I had started crying until the wetness seeped through the jeans covering my thighs.

“Whatever I want to do,” I whispered and smiled as wide as I could, grabbing a tissue.

College would have been my first choice years ago. Now, it seemed…juvenile. I did like learning, and it was possible that I’d go back for core classes, but a degree wasn’t something I wanted anymore.

Funny how things change when life sinks its teeth into you, huh?

I clicked on the address bar and typed in the site for all things King Industries. I found the list of supported charities and non-profit organizations and scrolled through them.

Of course, there wasn’t more information on them aside from the names and a general summary of what they were for, but it was enough to give me an idea or two.

I had always wanted to do something that meant something good was happening. I didn’t need to see it happening, but just know that somewhere, something was better for my effort.

Hearing Tate talking about the charities and programs he had brain-funded had tickled something in me, waking it up for a sleep brought on by deep neglect.

~Purpose.~

Not the one I chose, but the one that picked me. I had picked my family and now that was taken care of.

Now, I was free to choose the purpose that had picked me a long time ago. I didn’t know where that was going to lead me, but I knew I was on the right track, staring at this list in front of me.

Things were changing again, and this time, it was looking good.