The rooms I passed had elderly people sitting in their chairs. Most of them stared out the windows like they missed the world they left behind. The more rooms I passed, the worse I felt, knowing Grammy was probably doing the same as she waited for me to visit.
Room three hundred was the next door I reached … Grammy’s room.
I stepped up to the doorway to find her sitting in her chair reading a book. A content smile upon her lips, she hummed softly as she turned the page. Interrupting felt wrong, but I knew she would be just as happy to see me as I was to see her.
Tapping on the doorframe, I smiled when she looked up from her book.
“Hey, Grammy. What are you reading?” I asked as I moved into her room.
She turned the old paperback to show a cover with a couple embracing. Grammy loved to read, but only the smutty historicals you could grab from the consignment shop for ten cents. If the storyline featured a duke or an earl, she was on board.
“Reading that smut again, I see,” I joked, sitting on the stool beside her reading chair.
She chuckled as she stuffed her bookmark between the pages and set the book down. The paper-thin skin on the top of her fragile hands showed all the blue veins and age spots. Her white hair was placed in a perfect bun on top of her head. She had super long hair, but only I knew that since she never took it down around anyone else.
“Oh, hush. You know how much I like my love stories.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
More like I knew how much she liked to reread the dirty parts.
“I’m glad you stopped by. I haven’t seen you in months. Where have you been hiding?” she asked, picking up her remote to flip through the channels.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d been by to visit her just three days before. Instead, I reached out and tugged at the new top she was wearing. I’d brought it for her the last time I’d visited since all her clothes had been burned. My goal was to bring her in a new piece of clothing each time I stopped by. This time, I had bought a new nightgown. It was pink with tiny flowers. My grammy loved pink.
“This looks nice on you, Grammy. Do you like how it fits?” I asked.
She hugged herself and smiled. “Oh, yes. The fabric is lovely. I got it years ago at a boutique in Charleston. It’s one of my favorites.”
Tears rushed to my eyes, and I turned away before they spilled down my cheeks.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” I said, keeping the broken sound out of my voice. “So any plans for today? Are the nurses here putting together some fun for the weekend?”
The weekend before, the nurses and caretakers had put together bingo in the main room. Everyone joined, played bingo, and ate snacks. It was a hit, and Grammy won a handmade scarf.
“No, dear, my husband has big date plans this weekend. Our daughter is staying at a friend’s house, and I’m supposed to wear something pink. He loves me in pink.”
That was how my visit continued. Me trying to discuss recent topics and Grammy believing she was thirty-five again. She talked about Pop as if he was still a young stud and my mother as if she was still a rebellious teenager. She never even mentioned me or looked at me as if I were familiar.
When I said my goodbyes, I did so holding back the dam of tears that threatened to break at any second. I closed her room door and quickly wiped away a lone tear that had escaped. Making it to my car so I could have my moment became crucial. Crying around a bunch of strangers wasn’t an option.
I moved fast down the hallway, ready to get out of the building before everything came crashing down on me. A short hallway, a long hallway, and then the exit. I could make that easily. I turned the corner onto the second hallway, slamming into a large, warm body.
It was more like running face first into a heated brick wall. His stomach was so toned I could feel his six-pack pressed against my front. I froze as long, strong fingers wrapped around my upper arms, pulling me against him and holding me in place.
My eyes followed the buttons up the front of his shirt until a tanned neckline and a strong, sexy jawline were all I could see. Dark hair lined his chin and luscious lips, and his nose was incredibly perfect and symmetrical. Then my eyes fell into his aqua blue irises, and I gasped.
Matthew Ellis.
Again, we had somehow managed to be pressed together, and my body was celebrating with shivers and warmth.
“Whoa,” he said, grinning so hard the dimple in his cheek winked at me.
I pulled from his grasp, accidentally slamming into the wall behind me.
“You again.” He moved closer to me, pulling all the oxygen around me away. “We really have to stop running into each other this way.”
When I didn’t respond, he chuckled softly. The deep and erotic sound rasped against my skin even though he wasn’t as close as before.
“Or we can keep bumping into each other if you’d like. I think I’d like to bump into you in more ways than one.”
He moved even closer, and I held my breath as a mix of fear and desire crashed over me. Again, I found myself rushing into an anxiety attack because he was near me while secretly wanting him closer.
He reached up, his fingers capturing a curl of my hair resting against my shoulder. He rubbed his fingers together, feeling the texture of my hair while he watched the curl fall apart.
“Lost your tongue?” he asked, his own tongue peeking out and swiping across his full bottom lip. “You don’t have anything to say to me, Red?”
I blinked up at him, my tongue stuck to the top of my mouth and my jaw clenched. Speaking was beyond me, and even though words bubbled up to the back of my throat and rolled across my tongue, they became trapped.
His fingers moved once again, fingering yet another of my curly strands. This time, his knuckles brushed against my cheek, and I slammed my eyes closed as I tried to curb my mixed emotions.
Fear.
Desire.
Anxiety.
And a rush of excitement that flew through my body like lightning.
My tongue released itself, and my voice came out broken and rusty.
“My name’s not Red,” I snapped.
His grin deepened. “But it’s perfect for you. What’s your name?”
“Shannon.”
“I think I like Red better.”
I sighed, more from him being so close than from aggravation, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
His eyes moved from the strand of hair he was fingering until he was looking me in my eyes.
Blue.
His eyes were so cerulean they blazed against his dark skin and dark hair like a flashing warning sign. A warning sign I knew to take to heart.
“Visiting someone. And you?”
“The same.” I tugged my hair from his fingers and moved to step around him. “Well, it was nice to run into you again, but—”
He blocked me, his palm resting against the wall beside me and caging me in.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?”
Looking around, I took note of the fact we were somehow completely alone in a long hallway of closed doors. I could have sworn all the doors were open before, but it wasn’t like any of the old people in the rooms would be able to do anything to help me if he tried something I didn’t like.
My heart drilled inside my chest, the sound of its pounding echoing in my ears.