Page 93 of Last on the List
“The doctors said neuro stuff was all miraculously okay, but they weren’t sure if I would regain full function of my left arm.”
“Fuck.” Max’s pained voice is crushing to hear. It reminds me of my family’s tone as they huddled around me in the hospital bed, waiting for me to recover. His tone is thick when he adds, “I’m so sorry that all happened to you.”
I nod slowly. “I was in the hospital for a week and physical therapy care facility for two weeks after. I came home to do outpatient therapy, and it was my dad’s idea that I start doing some woodworking to improve my fine motor skills. Which…as you can probably tell, worked because I gained back the full function of my left arm. I guess I defied the odds.”
The corner of Max’s mouth tips up into a smile, but it’s a sad smile. One that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You said you left that job on bad terms…”
“Yeah…I haven’t even got to the bad terms part yet.” I inhale and shake my head, feeling the weight of those six years like a fucking storm cloud hovering over me. “The thing that really sealed the deal about me leaving that job wasn’t the stroke. It was the fact that none of my coworkers came to visit me in the hospital. Not one. I’d watch the door every day for people who I considered family for most of my adult life to check in on me, and no one ever did. My sister showed up, my parents did. Hell, even Dakota did once I let my mom tell her what happened to me. But none of the people who I spent endless hours with ever stopped by.”
“What about the boyfriend you mentioned?” Max asks, his face taut with poorly concealed rage.
“He texted me once.” I laugh, and it hurts. “We’d broken up several months before the incident, and he was with someone new. My boss emailed me about disability leave, but that was pretty much the extent of his communication with me.”
A look of disgust mars Max’s handsome face. “What company was this? Who was your boss?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I respond quickly, shuddering at the thought of even saying his name aloud. “I never stepped foot back in that building, and I never will. All that work, all that commitment to a company that didn’t care about me when I literally almost died in front of them makes me sick to my stomach. I never even went back to my apartment in Denver. As soon as I was released from the care facility, I went straight home to Boulder and moved in with my sister because I couldn’t handle my mom’s hovering and worrying. I hired a company to pack up my entire apartment. Most of my boxes are still in storage because I’m terrified if I open them up, there will be something that triggers a panic attack or worse, another stroke. I was twenty-five years old and had a stress-induced stroke at my job. How embarrassing is that?”
“It’s not embarrassing,” Max replies softly, reaching out and grabbing my hand firmly.
“It is, though, because I couldn’t handle the stress like everyone else.”Like you, I want to say, but I don’t. “I’m a total failure.”
“You’re not a failure, Cassandra,” Max nearly growls. “You can’t control what happened to you any more than I can control having my wife leave me. It’s just a part of our past lives that we have to navigate our way through.”
“I know, but you’ve accomplished so much despite your past life. I was a twentysomething with no responsibilities other than my job, and it nearly killed me. How are you so much better at this than me?”
“I’m not,” Max snaps, his eyes boring into me. “We just handle stress differently. I mean…hell…I may have accomplished a lot, but I spent nearly a decade of my life devoid of any real romantic relationship. My eleven-year-old told me this weekend that she worries about me constantly. You think I’m not fucking up? Trust me, Cozy. I fuck up plenty.”
He exhales heavily and sits back in his seat, thrusting a frustrated hand through his hair. “What happened to you is the result of employee neglect from a shitty corporation and vile boss. You’re lucky to be alive.” His voice cracks, and my eyes instantly fill with tears at the stricken look on his face.
I hold my hand out to his again, and he calms down to lean forward and twine his fingers through mine. I’m suddenly struck with the very real possibility that I might not have lived to experience this feeling with this man at this moment because of that stroke.
That reality affects me far more than I’m ready to admit.
I cup my hand over his. “I know that now, Max. I realize that my body just isn’t built for that kind of high-pressure work environment. That’s why I’ve spent the past seven months living life by my own rules and no one else’s—except for our bang it out rules, of course.” I laugh and swipe at an errant tear that slides down my face. “I’ve been calling these past seven months my Great Defrost.”
Max doesn’t smile back at me as his Adam’s apple slides down his throat. “So are you defrosted yet? How is your health now? Really.”
“I can safely confirm that I am the picture of health.” I sit up straight and give him a cheesy smile before morphing into a genuine one. “Honestly, I feel better and happier than I have in years. Very warm and cozy.”
Max’s brooding eyes soften and crinkle around the edges. His voice is seductive when he asks, “Do I get to take any credit for that happiness?”
I bite my lip nervously. “Yes, Max. Against all odds…I’m afraid you do.”
“Let me try this whiskey of yours,” Cassandra says, standing between my legs as I sit on top of the kitchen counter in my Aspen house. Her hands slide up and down my thighs, making the constant state of my dick’s arousal more painful by the second.
I growl and kiss her neck, enjoying the view of her in my home. She’s barefoot and sexy as fuck, with her lips raw from the make-out session we had in the game room. I wanted to strip her naked and take her on the pool table, but she demanded we finish the tour.
Such a sexy, bossy nanny.
A bossy nanny who is so much more than a nanny. I fucking knew there was more to Cassandra than meets the eye. Her determination to play life casually always felt like a cover for something. But what she told me was ten times worse than I could ever imagine.
I’m going to get the name of that company out of her one of these days. This isn’t something I can just let go of. But for now…for tonight, I will savor the person she has become and appreciate her vulnerability that was long overdue.
Admittedly, I struggle to picture this corporate grind person she used to be. Dressed in business suits and hopping on commercial flights every single week isn’t her. The woman in my arms right now, grabbing my drink and wrinkling her nose as she smells it, feels like the woman she was always meant to be.
“Come on, pour me a drink,” Cassandra repeats, tipping her chin up to me as she lightly tangles her lips with mine. “I can always taste it on your tongue, but I want to try an actual drink and see if I like it.”
She thrusts her tongue into my mouth, and I groan my appreciation, drinking in the wine on her lips. She always tastes so fucking good. I’m going to devour every inch of her body tonight.
