All of Me Read online

  The night was cool, but summery. Stella made a beeline for the pack of cigarettes and purple Bic lighter hidden beneath an Expedia gnome someone had brought in as a joke. But the cigarette stash was no joke. The ER staff kept that thing stocked up no matter what. Small cell carcinoma, be damned.

  Stella cupped the cigarette with one hand and flicked the Bic with the other. She took a long, hard drag on the cigarette and tilted her head back to release carcinogens into the clear June night sky.

  She yelped when the cigarette was yanked from her lips during her second drag.

  Stella watched, slack-jawed, as Officer Drazek snubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of his huge black shoe and tossed the butt into a bucket by the door. He turned to face her and crossed his massive arms over his chest. “It is against the law to smoke on hospital grounds.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” Stella grabbed another cigarette from the stash, lit it, and took a long drag. She met Drazek’s narrowed eyes as she exhaled. “My little sister got roughed up, I almost got arrested, I have a suicidal patient, and I’m working a twelve hour shift.” Stella took another drag and flicked a long ash. “It’s either smoke this cigarette or lose my ever-loving mind.”

  He grabbed the second cigarette, put it out, and threw it into the bucket. Next he confiscated the package and shoved it into a pocket in his jacket.

  “It is against the law to smoke on hospital grounds. Period.” The arms crossed back over his chest. “And it’s a bad habit. You’re a nurse. You should know better.”

  He was right, but that was beside the point. Fortunately for Drazek, Stella was too tired and too freaked out to fight about how she was a disappointment to the nursing profession. She slumped into a lawn chair the staff kept out there to use as they gleefully disregarded the laws of the land.

  She propped her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. “Okay, fine, you win, Sergeant Stickler.” The way his brow quirked set off a few butterflies in her stomach. “So, what are you going to do with my patient?”

  “She’ll be arrested for driving while intoxicated and/or impaired once the blood work comes back.” He shifted his weight to his heels then rocked forward. One shoulder lifted. “Then it’s up to the judge what happens to her. This isn’t her first offense – no where close – so I’m guessing he or she is going to throw the book at her.”

  Stella sighed, twisting her mother’s ring around and around her right hand middle finger. “I hate to see her go to jail, but maybe that’s what she needs. Rehab hasn’t worked the dozens of times she’s gone. Maybe spending a little while away from it all will do the trick. I hope so, anyway. She’s a nice lady deep down. It’s just this addiction has such a hold on her, you know?”

  Officer Drazek was as reactive as the Expedia gnome. Actually, the gnome was more expressive.

  She exhaled a short laugh, eyes rolling. “But I guess you probably want to throw her in jail. Law-breaking and all that, right?”

  “She is the absolute last type of person I would want to incarcerate.”

  Stella reared back. “Why is that?”

  “Because my mother was an alcoholic and drug abuser. Jail wouldn’t have done her a bit of good and it won’t do that woman in there any good either.”

  If Stella was shocked, Drazek looked downright appalled.

  Stella blurted out, “Are you married?”

  Now he looked appalled and horrified.

  Well, take a number.

  Drazek wordlessly re-entered the hospital, leaving Stella sitting there embarrassed, intrigued, and unsettlingly tingly.

  That guy was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. And he hadn’t been wearing a wedding band, which didn’t matter because Stella wasn’t looking for anything – and definitely not something with a police officer. She hadn’t enjoyed her first visit to Cop Town and wasn’t ever going back.

  Stella gazed longingly at the gnome and cursed Drazek.

  Oh, but…

  Stella slowly unfurled her right hand and saw a beacon of hope: sweaty and rusty, but lovely all the same.

  The little purple Bic lighter.

  She re-confiscated her cigarette butt from the bucket and lit up. The back door flew open and Drazek stuck his head out; eyes narrowing when he saw the crinkled butt between her lips.

  Stella threw her hands up. “Dear God! Fine! You win!”

  Stella dropped the butt, smashed it out, and headed for the door.

  “Please don’t litter,” he said.

  In all seriousness. Standing as still as the black figure tossing trash into a can on a “No Littering” sign.

  Stella looked from him to the butt back to him. His expression didn’t change as he waited expectantly and patiently for her to do her civic duty.

  Stella laughed out loud. She couldn’t help it. He was just so ridiculous.

  “Only so you can sleep tonight...” Stella disposed of it (in the probably illegal bucket by the back door) and brushed past him into the hospital.

  She didn’t care he smelled like soap and Old Spice and mint. She didn’t care that he was hot and intriguing and had big, strong hands. Or that he was not exactly what she’d imagined him to be. Or that her body had never reacted this way to any man before.

  All of no consequence to her. She had a lot bigger fish to fry than a hot, anal-retentive cop with sad eyes.

  Stella waved off Christopher’s concerned look as she walked past the nurses’ station. Suddenly, paramedics busted through the back doors with a mangled body on a stretcher and the ER lit up. Stella turned her attention to the trauma and gave it her all, but she couldn’t help but admire Drazek’s efficient, purposeful strides as he left the ER.

  And his perfect butt.

  By the time she wrapped up her shift, drove home, and finally crawled into bed, Stella had analyzed the entire interaction to death. Officer Drazek had been adorable, compassionate, and anal retentive. He’d smelled like heaven, had the body of an Adonis, and was sporting a whole lot of pain behind those eyes.

  A recipe for absolute disaster, if ever there was one.

  Stella thrashed around, kicking the covers off and then pulling them back on. She punched pillow, flipped, and folded the pillow before resting her head.

  He hadn’t confirmed or denied being married. He could have a girlfriend. He could be gay, although she seriously doubted it. Although that would explain the painful look on his face when she’d asked about his marital status.

  Stella buried her face in the pillow, groaned, and hoped like hell that was the last she’d see of that guy. Because if he wasn’t involved, married, or gay, he was gonna be trouble. No doubt about it.

  Chapter Five

  “What’s up with you, D? You’ve been acting weird all week. You getting sick or something?” Danny tossed a wild free throw, cursing when it bounced off the rusted rim at a neighborhood court near the station. His hands rested on his hips, head shaking. “I suck. Seriously suck.”

  “Nah, you’re just getting old.” Nathan tossed his own wild free throw toward the net. When it went in, he grinned over his shoulder.

  Middle finger salute given and received, Danny retrieved both balls and tossed Nathan his. “So, what’s the story? You coming down with something?”

  Nathan calculated his response as he dribbled the ball. All he managed to come up with was, “I’m fine.”

  But he wasn’t. Fine. At all. He was all twisted up and weirded out. But that wasn’t Danny’s problem, so why burden him with it? Plus, Nathan knew he couldn’t explain what he was feeling even if he tried.

  “You sure? You’ve been quieter than usual, which means you’ve been almost mute,” Danny said with an affection clap on the shoulder. “No war shit coming back up, right? You doing okay with that?”

  “Nothing like that. Everything’s cool.” Nathan slipped out from under Danny’s grip and dribbled toward the net. He threw another shot. Woulda been all net had there been one.

  “Okay. Just checking in w
ith you. Seemed like something was going on,” Danny said. “No word from your brother or anything like that, right?”

  “Nope.” Nathan wiped his face across the sleeve of his shirt and took another shot. This time he missed.

  Danny wisely changed the subject. “So, Leila and me? Yeah, we’re over.” At Nathan’s raised brow, he shrugged. “She was a little too freaky – even for me.” When Nathan’s other brow joined the first, Danny exhaled a laugh. “I know, I know, right? But it’s true. I’m up for the kinky sex club now and then, but I’m not looking to make that a way of life, you know? Plus, she wanted to bring another dude into the mix and that’s where this Irishman draws the line.”

  “No cap on the females allowed, but no other dudes, huh?” Nathan snorted at Danny’s emphatic, “Goddamn straight!”

  Danny shook his head. “So weird how different Leila and Christy are. How in the world those two ever hooked up is beyond me. Christy ever say anything about it?”

  Christy never said much about anything, which suited Nathan just fine, but it didn’t lend itself to any in-depth conversations about how she’d befriended Danny’s nymphomaniac ex.

  “No.” Nathan slowed his dribble, grabbing the ball with both hands on its last bounce. He studied the faded black S in Spalding. “I’m thinking about asking Christy if she wants to move in together.”

  Nathan swallowed down a dry heave.

  Danny’s reaction was only slightly less dramatic. “Uh…what?” He walked closer to Nathan and leaned in. “Please repeat that. Because I know you couldn’t possibly have said you want to move in with Little Miss Paper Shuffler.” Danny laughed. “Getting laid is one thing, but making a move like that? What, are you nuts?”

  “She’s easy to get along with and very…calm. I’m 32 years old, Mac. Gotta settle down some time.” Nathan shrugged. “She’s as good as anyone.”

  “Oh, well, if she’s as good as anyone!” Danny guffawed, throwing his hands into the air. “Why didn’t you just say that? If she’s as good as anyone, then – by all means – marry the woman.” Danny grabbed Nathan by both shoulders. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” He dropped his arms and pointed at Nathan’s chest. “See? I knew something was up with you! Don’t get squirrely on me, bro! You’re the only sane person I have in my life. Don’t go all American Psycho on me now.”

  “Asking a perfectly nice woman to move in with me is comparable to murdering a bunch of people in cold blood?”

  “It’s worse!” At the simultaneous lift of both brows, Danny said, “Well, okay, not worse, but close. Just promise me you’ll think this through. I don’t want you to be another Contini.”

  Joey Contini was a cop on the force who’d married a neighborhood girl his parents had approved of. Both nice people, but miserable as hell together. Now Joey had a drinking problem and his wife was stuck at home with five kids she resented. It was an ugly situation, but had nothing to do with Nathan trying to live some semblance of a normal life.

  But there were a lot of reasons Nathan shouldn’t move in with anyone. For starters, his fucked up workout scenes, need for absolute cleanliness, and frequent nightmares. But it felt like an average, normal thing to think about moving in with a woman and Nathan was a big fan of anything average and normal. Plus, the thought of never having to start up another relationship? Worth the price of admission.

  “It was a thought. No big deal,” Nathan said. “Just thinking things through.”

  “Yeah, well, keep thinking, D. You move in with that woman and you’ll be miserable. She’s not right for you.”

  “Who is? Someone like Leila?” Nathan sank another ball.

  “It would do you some serious good, my man. Help you let go a little. Loosen you up. Screw a few hundred Leilas and then think about settling down.” Danny grinned. “There’s a lot of fun to be had out there. Trust me. You just gotta get into the right mindset.”

  Nathan wasn’t capable of that mindset and they both knew it, but it made Danny feel better to blow smoke.

  “And speaking of fun…how hot is that Stella chick? I’m thinking of looking her up in the system and doing a little recon. She’s got a smokin’ body and a hot little mouth to go with it.”

  Nathan froze. Because it wasn’t until that moment that his conscious mind caught up with his subconscious mind and he realized she was there. Had been there since he’d laid eyes on her.

  Lurking in his brain. Fucking it all up. Fucking everything all up.

  Nathan walked to the bench to grab his water bottle. He wasn’t thirsty, but he needed to try washing down the fist in his throat.

  “So whaddya think? Wanna look her up and do a little drive by tonight?” Danny asked. He grabbed a towel off the bench and wrapped it around his neck.

  “She’s not your type. An Italian girl like that…” Nathan rubbed at a sudden tightness above his sternum. “All trouble. She’d chew you up and spit you out. I lived in a whole neighborhood full of women like that before the system. You don’t mess with ‘em, trust me.”

  “I’m all about those dark eyes and wild hair, bro…” Danny’s grin had Nathan rubbing his sternum raw. “And they’re feisty. Wildcats in bed. What-“ Danny pointed at Nathan’s manic chest rubbing. “You got some heartburn? Or…what’s going on there?”

  “Yeah, heartburn. From that Taco Bell last night.”

  They walked toward the station. “All that talk about Italian chicks got me hungry. And horny, but mostly hungry. Let’s do Italian tonight,” Danny said. “Marinelli’s sound good?”

  ***

  Stella popped a fried mushroom into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. She shrugged and said, “I don’t really have an interest in going into management. Look at all of the crap you go through.” She tossed a few more ice cubes into her glass of Riesling and sipped. “I’m not looking for any more drama in my life.”

  “One day you’ll be too old to pound the floor though.” Christopher waved off Stella’s offended expression. “Not for like 10-“ Stella’s eyes narrowed. “Er, 20 years. But, still. You should do the Master’s now and get it over with. Before you get all conventional and start popping out babies left and right.”

  The second mushroom stuck in Stella’s esophagus. She took an overly large gulp of Riesling to wash it down. “No real concern about that. For a lot of different reasons.” At Christopher’s softened eyes, she scoffed. “Not going there. It’s Saturday night amd we’re off work. It’s time to par-tay.”

  Christopher glanced around at the tables full of sweating parents, screaming kids, senior citizens clutching coupons, and gangly 16 year olds on first dates.

  He quirked a well-groomed black brow. “If this is your idea of a par-tay, you’re worse off than I thought.”

  Stella laughed. She felt her cell phone buzz and – after about two minutes of searching the murky depths – pulled it out of her purse. She read the text. “Kat’s coming up to meet us.” Stella looked up with a devilish grin. “And she’s bringing Stellan.” She mouthed the words, “For you.”

  “The hunky Norwegian I’ve been hearing so much about?” Christopher adjusted his shirt and patted down his thick, dark hair. He winked at Stella. “Might turn into a par-ty after all!”

  Twenty minutes later, the third born Ciaramitaro sister came through the door of Marinelli’s rocking Gucci glasses, a zebra cane, and the sexiest sneakers money could buy. Her sisters had decided long ago that Multiple Sclerosis and nerdiness weren’t going to stop Kat from being the most fabulous bitch in the room.

  And it didn’t hurt she was hanging on the arm of her gorgeous research assistant, Stellan. The man was an Alexander Skarsgard look alike: tall, muscular, and broody as hell. He was also as gay as the day was long, thus Christopher’s near squirming in his seat as they approached.

  “Hey, Stella. Hey, Christopher,” Kat said, shuffling closer to their corner table. She released Stellan’s arm and gripped the corner of the table. She grimaced. “Those stairs just about killed us. Stella
n had to basically carry me.”

  “Oh, crap, I didn’t even think of that. I’m sorry, Kat,” Stella replied, standing up to let her sister sit in the outer chair.

  Kat waved off her apology as she propped her cane against the table. Stella pulled out her chair and Kat plopped into it. “It’s no big deal, but poor Stellan…he has to drag me around the lab all day and now he’s dragging me around all of Cleveland.”

  Stellan “psshed” Kat’s words as he eyed Christopher in a way only a gay man can pull off. He must have liked what he saw because his fair skin quickly reddened. Stellan sank into the chair next to Kat, opposite of Christopher, and within a few seconds the men were chit-chatting.

  Well, Christopher was talking and Stellan was staring. God love science dorks and their social awkwardness. They were some of Stella’s favorite people on earth.

  The waitress set a plate of cold antipasti on the table and took Kat and Stellan’s drink orders. As she walked away, Stella leaned in. “Hey, everything okay? You seem like you’re limping a lot more today.”

  “My left leg has been worse this time,” Kat replied as she arranged the napkins, silverware, and coasters on the table in a way she approved of. “I’ve had some worsening numbness too.” The waitress set Kat’s Merlot down and sent Stellan’s tap beer down the table. Kat shrugged. “I’ll call the Dr. Schlagel on Monday. Maybe they can up my dose of something.”

  Stella nodded. She opened her mouth to ask how physical therapy was going, but closed it. And stared. Because she could not believe who had walked into her world. Again.

  Kat caught her staring and turned to look over her shoulder.

  “Don’t!” Stella hissed, her eyes now trained on Kat’s furrowed brow. “Do not turn around, but the cops who showed up at Eddie’s house the other night just walked in.” Stella stole a quick glance to make sure they hadn’t spotted her and found she was safe for the moment. They’d been seated in the opposite corner of the restaurant, closer to the door. “And they were at the hospital a few nights ago on a drunk driving accident.”