Page 1 of Alex (Men of Forbidden Temptation #4)

ELISE

The incessant shrill of the heart rate monitor drones on and on in the darkened hospital room. It no longer beeps in tune with my mom’s heart.

Instead, it wails like an alarm in the night for all to hear.

Mom is gone, and she’s never coming back. There won’t be any more late night calls when I need her advice. No more dinner and movie dates from separate cities.

No more holiday dinners where we scrape together whatever we can afford.

I knew the end was coming, but not this soon.

Not now. Not tonight.

Not when I’m this lost and still don’t have my life together. I was supposed to finish college and get a good-paying job.

I was supposed to get Mom out of this shitty, small beach town and be treated by the best doctors money could buy .

But I wasn’t fast enough.

I didn’t have enough time to make that happen.

The disease spread to her entire body a couple of months ago and that’s when we knew we were out of time.

No amount of procedures, surgeries, or medicine could reverse the damage that had already been done.

We were playing a waiting game, but the waiting game has just ended.

I’m frozen in my seat, unable to move or speak. I want to shut off the damn machine. I want to shut off the reminder that from now on I’m all alone, but I can’t get up. I can’t bring myself to reach over Mom’s lifeless body.

Nurses and doctors flood inside the small hospital room that I’ve called home for the past several weeks.

One doctor flicks on the overhead light before slipping on a pair of blue nitrile gloves as he walks towards Mom.

His hand reaches out to check Mom’s pulse, but I know they won’t find one. The machine is telling us what we already know.

She’s dead.

There’s no going back.

He looks down at his Rolex watch. It’s way nicer than the other doctor’s watches, but I guess you can afford to drop several thousands of dollars on a watch when you’re the Chief of Staff.

“Time of death 17:10. ”

His voice contains no emotion, but why would it?

He didn’t know Mom.

He only knew her as Wendy MacArthur, room sixteen. The lady who would rather stay on her deathbed in a cold sterile hospital than her own home surrounded by friends and family.

He doesn’t know that Mom and I are loners. We have no friends and our family has long since forgotten us.

The nurse to my right grabs the clipboard from the foot of Mom’s hospital bed and writes the time.

The time that will be permanently etched into my mind now.

Several nurses speak as the doctor blurts out several orders.

I’m still frozen in my spot, despite hands reaching past me to unhook IVs and monitors.

Looking past the blur of hands, I focus on Mom’s face. Even though she’s lost too much weight over the past couple of months, her face is peaceful and pain free.

Mostly from the morphine drip, but partly because she’s no longer here to feel the pain of the disease.

At least I can take solace in the fact that she died in her sleep.

After Mom is free from the cords and machines, several nurses turn their attention to me.

One nurse asks, “Do you already have a funeral home in mind where you would like her services to be held?”

Another one speaks from behind me. “Is there any family you’d like to call to be here to help you in your time of need?”

A third nurse walks over to the curtains and flings them open before cracking open the window. At my questioning glance, she explains. “I like to set the deceased’s spirit free. I don’t want them to be trapped here any longer than they need to be.”

Her statement seems to activate the flood inside of me.

Emotions well up in my throat and eyes. My skin flushes from the growing anger inside of my chest. It’s hard to breathe even though I’m sucking in air.

It’s too soon. Mom was still young. She could’ve had several more decades to live and be happy.

I suck in another lung full of air and all I can think about is getting out of here.

Jumping up, I push past the nurses and doctors as I race towards the door before following the all too familiar path to the main doors of the hospital.

The warm spring air is like a slap to my face. I have to get out of here. I need to be away from all the sympathetic glances and the never-ending questions.

I have no friends, but luckily it’s the weekend, and I live in a small town, so I know where everyone my age is going to be.

The beach .

It doesn’t take long until the crash of the waves and the laughter from the party reach my ears.

I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with the salty sea air. It instantly calms my nerves and for a second, it lets me forget where I just came from and what I’m going to have to do in a few days.

A dry laugh escapes past my lips.

My mom just died and how am I planning on spending the night? Getting drunk at a rich elite beach bash.

I’m the complete opposite of these kids. I’m a jobless college dropout who wears hand-me-downs and who’s now homeless.

Whereas they wear name brand clothing, drive expensive cars, and live in mansions.

They don’t know me, but I know them.

I’ve envied them my entire life. How could I not? They’ve been handed everything their entire life, while Mom and I struggled to stay warm and find food.

Mom worked two jobs while I worked one just to make enough money to pay our bills. We had no money in savings. We never had a rainy day fund where we could go crazy and blow it on a fun adventure.

We lived paycheck to paycheck. Hell, there were several times where we couldn’t pay our bills and went without power.

I shake my head at those memories and walk along the outskirts of the party. I’m here for the booze, not the festivities .

Several people linger around the beer cooler, so I wait for them to leave before reaching deep into the icy water. I wrap my hand around the bottle and pull it out of the cooler.

I walk down the beach towards the pier, away from the fun and laughter, and away from everyone. Just like I like it. There’s no drama when I stick to myself.

I head to my favorite spot on the other side of the pier. Noone ever comes over here. It’s rocky, with barely any sand, but it’s peaceful and quiet.

Letting out a long sigh, I lean back against a large rock as I twist the top off the bottle and gulp down a large sip of beer.

The cold liquid tingles my taste buds and temporarily cools the angry flame that’s burning deep inside. I shiver at the bitter taste. I don’t normally drink beer, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, it will still do its intended job and help clear my mind.

I stare out at the ocean as the sky darkens. The normal bright blue sea is dark, like a stormy night.

I used to love the blue ocean and the bright blue sky on a sunny day, but now when I see the blue depths, I only see doctor’s hands covered in those blue nitrile gloves.

The gloves that stuck IVs into Mom’s arms when she was first admitted to the hospital.

The gloves that checked for her pulse while the machine displayed the thin flat line that used to bob with her heart rate .

The gloves that disconnected the machines from Mom’s lifeless body.

My hand presses against my chest as pain shoots through my heart. I want to cry, to let the emotion out rather than let it continue to build inside of me, but I have no more tears left.

I’ve spent weeks crying, hoping, and praying for a miracle.

I’ve spent hours inside the hospital’s chapel, wishing I could have done things differently. Wishing life was less cruel to us.

Movement out of the corner of my eye grabs my attention a second before someone joins me on the rocks.

My gaze moves from the ocean to the stranger.

He looks like a typical rich surfer dude. Tanned to perfection with his long hair that blows in the breeze. He’s shirtless and only wearing swimming trunks that lie dangerously low on his hips.

On any other day, I might give his body more attention, but not today.

“Go away.” I bark out before returning my gaze back to the water.

He doesn’t seem offended at my lack of friendliness. “It’s not safe for you to be over here.”

I give him a wry chuckle. “I don’t give a flying fuck about safety right now.”

“You should.” His voice is soft, like he understands how I’m feeling, but that’s impossible. No one knows how I feel .

My gaze locks onto his darker gray irises. “Why do you care about me and my safety?”

“I don’t, but since this is my party, I’m responsible for all party goers.”

That’s a lame ass excuse, but I don’t call him out on it.

“Fine.”

I stand and follow him back to the party and grab another beer before moving to the sand dunes. I plop down in front of the sand reed grass to help conceal me a little.

The stranger joins his friends on the other side of the bonfire while watching my every move.

It feels strange to be the center of someone’s attention, even if he’s just making sure I don’t head back to the rocks.

Knowing he’s going to keep staring at me, I raise my hand and give him a sarcastic small wave.

He raises his beer like he’s saying “Cheers.”

We take a sip of our own beverages while our gazes stay locked onto one another. I let my gaze wander over his party guests. They all look similar. Tanned, sculpted bodies, designer clothing, and not a care in the world.

I wish I could live a year in their shoes. Hell, I’d settle for a week. A week of not wondering where your next meal is coming from. A week of being wild and carefree.

My gaze wanders back to the bonfire where the group of strangers is still laughing at something my stranger just said .

My stranger.

My heart leaps in my chest at the thought of him being mine.

But he’s not mine.

Not now. Not ever.

When he’s not looking my way, I slowly stand and head back to the rocks. It’s my comfort area.

I don’t really want to be alone right now, but I don’t want to be a part of the party where I’ll feel like the outcast that I am.

Waves crash near my feet. The tide is already at its peak, so I don’t have to worry about being soaked.

A throat clears to my left and I know who it is.