Page 8 of Counting His heartbeats

"Oh great. Mrs. Jonathon is with a group of people now. The conference is two doors to your right. Hurry, so you don't miss anything," the woman replies, pointing toward the direction of the room.

Nodding, I walk off quickly, adrenaline and nerves competing for time in the spotlight.

"Let me start by saying, tha— oh, hello. I'm assuming you're here to volunteer. Come on in," an older black woman with a pleasant smile greets me when I push through the door a few minutes later.

Nodding wordlessly, I fully entered the room, taking the first available seat at the rectangular table, allowing the woman to continue with whatever she had been saying.

"Thank you all for deciding to volunteer here at Shadow Stew Memorial. I don't take it lightly because I understand how fleeting time can be. My name is Vatina Jonathon, and I'm the volunteer coordinator for the hospital. The first thing we'll do today is tour the different areas of the hospital in need of volunteers. While doing so, I will provide details on what you could be doing. Once the tour is over, we'll come back here, where you can either decide whether to commit to a particular wing of the hospital or change your mind altogether. There is no pressure either way."

My gaze roams around the table at the various groups of people sitting, noting that there is?—

Whoa. I wonder why his fine ass is here to volunteer. He doesn't look like the type to moonlight in a hospital for kicks and giggles.

My thoughts spiral when my eyes land on a beautiful man with cinnamon brown flawless skin. His light brown eyes stare intently at me, filling my body with warmth that staggers my heart. His ruggedly handsome face is kindled with a passionate beauty I instantly admire. His neat yet free dreads are haphazardly hanging on his right side. None of my exes have had dreads, but this man has me wondering if I may need to consider letting him become my first.

I wonder how he feels about women pulling his hair while in the throes of passion.

I'm in a trance while categorizing every feature on his finely crafted face. The mustache above his thin top lip makes way for a beard professionally aligned and cut to precision. His full bottom lip has an image entering my mind without my permission. He's sucking my pearl with skill and hunger, whichhas me slightly squirming in my seat.His lips part in a dazzling display of straight, white teeth, giving me a glimpse of his expert dental hygiene.

Wait, does he have neck t?—

"All right, if no one has questions, we'll get the tour moving."

Hearing the scraping of several chairs, my eyes blink, snapping out of the trance this man has unconsciously thrust me into.Get your shit together, Zurmani. You need to focus on volunteering, not what's hiding beneath that man's shirt.

An Undetermined Time Later

Staring in the window, my chest tightens when my gaze bounces around the room at all the newborns, either sleeping or screaming at the tops of their lungs. Sudden heaviness within my extremities collides with my aching heart, causing my body to shift from side to side.

"All right, let's move to the unit seeking people to provide kangaroo care to the littles needing extra attention," Mrs. Jonathon softly states, pulling my attention from the display window.

I immediately note the man from earlier standing about a hair's breadth away with his rapt eyes on me.

"You good?" he asks.

Fighting not to fall apart or succumb to the emotion begging for permission to escape, I nod before sauntering away.

"I got a shoulder if you need it," the man offers, falling into step with me and bringing a weak smile to my lips.

"Thanks, but it would be inappropriate for me to use it with us being strangers and all," I decline.

"Those are semantics, but let's fix that. Jawaan Young," he introduces, halting our stride and extending his hand with those tantalizing light brown eyes, inviting me to connect our palms.

"Zurmani Coates." My eyes balloon when I place my hand in his, and a zing of something unfamiliar dances up my arm.Shit, what is this?

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Zurmani. Let's catch up with the group, shall we?" Jawaan insists before resuming his stride without releasing my hand and forcing me to follow.

Oh God! Oh God! Does he know that he's still holding my hand? Shi—shoot, yes, he knows. Lord, this man got me out of sorts.

"There is always a need for volunteers in here. Babies are constantly coming and going but not all of them have loving families available to give the kangaroo care sometimes necessary for them to thrive," a nurse is saying to the group when Jawaan and I enter the NICU.

This is why you're here today. This is where you're needed.

I hear, causing me to look around at all the cribs filling the room with machines that serve as background music in the space. Several new mothers are sitting or standing at a few of the beds, but I also notice a few with only nurses or no one. A gentle squeeze of my hand causes me to look beside me where Jawaan is standing.

"How crazy would I look if I chose this place to devote my volunteer hours?" Jawaan asks.

Baby, the last thing you'll look is crazy. In fact, I'd love to bear witness to you cradling one of these babies shirtless.

---