Tuesday, November 19, 2024

πŸ’œNational Family Caregivers 2024 Part 3πŸ’œ




πŸ’–πŸ’™πŸ’šπŸ’›πŸ’œπŸ’—πŸ’œπŸ’›πŸ’šπŸ’™πŸ’–

As my mother's 24/7 caregiver, November being National Family Caregivers Month has always been important to me.  Not because I want personal recognition for what I do but to help show people that caregiving is more than just medical assistance, it can also be emotional, physical, psychological, that it effects every aspects of a person's life, it can be temporary, short term, long term, chronic,.  I would give anything to make it so my mother did not need the assistance but that isn't possible so I do this so she can have the best quality of life and still live in her own home.  So I realized that there are stories out there that have caregivers and whether it's a big or small part of the plot doesn't matter, they help show people what caregivers provide all within very entertaining romances and reading experiences. 

πŸ’–πŸ’™πŸ’šπŸ’›πŸ’œπŸ’—πŸ’œπŸ’›πŸ’šπŸ’™πŸ’–


Part 1  /  Part 2  /  Part 3  /  Part 4




Hurt Me Not by Davidson King
Summary:

As a lieutenant at the Fool’s Pass Fire Department and a single father, Easton Kooper’s life revolves around his children. When he receives an urgent call from his son’s doctor, it upends Easton’s world. Suddenly, barreling into a burning building sounds like a piece of cake. With no idea of what to do or where to turn, he’s never felt more lost. And then in walks the answer he didn’t know he needed: a gorgeous fae with an angelic smile, bearing grand promises to turn the Kooper family’s life right side up again.

Finch knows the rules: don’t fall in love with a human. That’s always been simple enough to follow—at least until the Kooper family. Despite his best efforts, Finch grows attached to Easton and his children…attached enough that he’s tempted to turn his back on the fae and their laws completely.

Before long, the pair must brace themselves as both their worlds seek to destroy them. When the darkness crashes down, it’ll take every ounce of defiance and magic Finch has to keep the Koopers safe. Faced with immovable magic and unspeakable danger, is there really any way Finch and Easton’s love can prevail?

Fighting it is hopeless, but embracing it could mean ruin for them all.

Hurt Me Not is a standalone MM urban fantasy. Guaranteed HEA. No cliffhanger.

Original Review April Book of the Month 2024:
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!! Davidson King has done it again!!!  Hurt Me Not is a highly personal journey for the author, perhaps not the paranormal element but all the emotions the characters feel stem from personal experience.  I'm not a parent but I have spent too much time at my mom's bedside, hospital and home, feeling the very same things: fear, worry, need to breakdown but not being able to, wanting to take their pain away but can't.  It can really weigh on a person and seeing the author take those experiences and channel them into an amazing storytelling journey, well it's just very uplifting and gives one hope on a variety of levels.

So let's talk Hurt Me Not.

Easton is facing what no parent wants: a phone call from his son's doctor who has low lab numbers and more tests are needed.  When the team has issues getting an IV placed for young Milo, Finch is called in as he has an unbelievable yet welcoming calming ability about him.  My mom is a hard stick when it comes to IVs and have seen nurses of all kinds try and fail, unintentionally cause pain and be so gentle you didn't even know you got poked, so I understand Milo's fears and the relief Finch provides.  

Speaking of Milo, he and his sibling, Tru(or Tru-Bug as daddy Easton says) are an absolute delight.  Hurt Me Not may be Easton and Finch's journey but seeing the kids navigate the illness and all the emotions that go with it warms the heart.  In fiction I find kids can be hard to balance between sugary sweet and spoiled brat but Davidson King does it beautifully.

You could say Hurt Me Not is a story told in two parts: the contemporary tale of Milo's illness and effects on family and the paranormal tale of Finch, his family, and the Fae.  On the surface it seems like an odd pairing to mix but King balances both with an equal mix of realism and fantasy until they are two sides of the same coin. My heart bleeds and cheers for everyone, well not everyone, Finch has a few family members that are on the dark side of lifeπŸ˜‰.  Not a single character is filler, they all have a purpose.

It's hard for me write this review without putting loads of personal emotions and experiences in so I'll just stop here and say that Hurt Me Not is brilliant. I can see why it was one of the hardest stories to date for the author to tell but I can also see why it was most likely the most rewarding and therapeutic.  The Fae brings a fantasy element that only heightens the story.  Put together Davidson King's storytelling expertise is chuck full of tears, cheers, and heat that guts you to the core and then heals the soul leaving an entertaining gem in it's wake.

RATING:





A Long Way Back by Barbara Elsborg
Summary:
Unfinished Business #2
A serious accident may have left Tay’s body broken, but he’s determined to live an independent life at any cost. Except he’s barely coping. Alone and isolated in London, his only solace comes from the pain numbing drugs he’s become addicted to.

Ink’s on the run. He keeps his head low, but London streets don’t feel safe. The only way to stay under the radar is to keep moving and not let anyone or anything get close. But the stray mutt that’s latched onto Ink has other ideas.

A chance encounter and Ink’s bungled attempt to free himself from his four-legged companion leads to the offer of a job as a live-in helper. Tay’s moody and difficult, but he’s also scared and vulnerable, and Ink finds himself saying yes when he should be saying no.

Can Tay and Ink find a clear path on the road towards true love? Or will their broken lives prove to be one roadblock too many?

This is the second book in the Unfinished Business series but can be read as a standalone.

This story has dark elements and possible triggers for some—bullying, death of a minor, violence, terrorism and drug addiction.



Hurt Me Not by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE 
Easton Kooper 
“Dad, I know you’re like a million years old, but⁠—” 

“I’m thirty-six, Tru, thirty-six. Your estimation is way off. I worry about what they’re teaching you in school.” 

“Whatever, Dad. As I was saying. Can we listen to music that was created after the turn of the century?” 

I looked in the rearview mirror, where my ten-year-old son, Milo, was playing one of his games, his eyes fixed on his tablet. The smirk on his face and the little glances he made at me was all I needed to know he was listening. 

“I’m sorry, Tru, I can’t hear you…speak into my good ear.” I cupped my right ear, and she snorted…Milo giggled. 

“Lame.” Tru’s eye rolls were legendary, and I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

At thirteen years old she was the spitting image of her mother, except she had green eyes. Milo and Tru both got those from me. But other than that, she was all her mom. She was tough as nails, stubborn, and brilliant like her too. 

Milo was more like me. Same brown hair, identical smile, and loved more of a hands-on approach to life. Unless it was an update on one of his games. 

Laura Kooper, my wife and the world’s best mother, died three years ago, throwing all our lives into a tailspin. The four of us became the three of us, and in one fell swoop I was drowning. 

Fighting fires was what I knew. I was a good dad, but I hadn’t realized how many pies Laura had put her fingers in until she was gone and I was raising my children alone. 

The first year had been a mess of tears, anger, and chaos. Slowly but surely, we’d found our way—a new way, but not a day went by that I didn’t miss Laura so much it hurt just to breathe. 

“Oh thank God, school!” Tru unbuckled her belt, and I chuckled. 

“I never thought I’d hear you utter those words. So what you’re saying is, all I need to do to get you not to give me a hard time about going to school is to throw on some amazing music?” 

“It’s not amazing.” She opened the door, but I grabbed her arm. 

“You’re amazing, Tru-bug.” 

Another eye roll but I wrangled a grin too. “Love you, Dad.” 

“Love you too.”

Once she was racing off, I looked at Milo. “Almost win the level?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Well, you’re the next drop-off. You have ten minutes.” 

“The pressure!” he shouted, and I hit the gas. 


At thirty-six I was one of the youngest lieutenants this firehouse had ever had. I’d worked my ass off to get here and loved every part of it. I’d operated both engine and ladder, but I was currently in charge of Ladder Truck 121. 

Before Laura’s death, my shifts were twenty-four hours on followed by forty-eight hours off. It had meshed with Laura’s schedule. After she passed, I was able to change to ten-to-twelve-hour shifts for three or sometimes four days. I had my weekends, but holidays were tricky. 

Fool’s Pass Fire Department, where we lived, was the main hub but a little less than half of the house fell into Red Root territory, so we often found ourselves helping in both places. It got busy some days, but that was fine. I had a lot of time with my kids this way. 

A slap on my shoulder pulled me out of writing my report about a house fire on Gretchen Avenue where we’d rescued a fifty-three-year-old woman and her four cats.

“Why are Trish and I doing the book drive this weekend, East?” Jim Hastings was my closest friend on the job, but he also worked for me. 

“Well, Jim.” I spun in my chair and smiled at the burly man who was more jolly than scary. “I specifically remember you and Trish saying to me around Christmas, ‘Please, if you let me and Trish out of being Santa and Mrs. Claus this year, we will be at your mercy.’ ” 

“Well, shit.” Jim sighed and leaned against the wall in my office. 

“I’m sure the two of you will have fun.” I waggled my brows and returned my attention to my report. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Without looking up, I answered. “It means I’m tired of you flirting with her horribly and getting nowhere. This way, you and she will be at that book drive all Saturday afternoon. Maybe you get to know her a little.” 

“And here I thought dating within the same house was wrong.” 

I shrugged. “I have no issue with it as long as it doesn’t interfere with your job, and Captain feels the same way.” 

He was silent for a beat too long, so I peered over my shoulder. He was glaring at me. 

“You think she’ll never go out with me, so you feel safe saying that.” 

I burst out laughing, tossed my pen onto the papers, and faced him again. “Prove me wrong, Hastings.”

He opened his mouth to say something when my cell phone went off. A quick peek showed the pediatrician’s office. 

“I gotta take this.” 

“Later.” 

“Hello?” I answered. 

“Mr. Kooper?” 

“Speaking.” 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kooper. This is Dr. Perry, Jennifer, calling from Fool’s Pass Pediatrics.” 

“Hi, Dr. Perry, is everything okay? I didn’t receive a call from the school saying either of my kids were hurt.” Dr. Jennifer Perry was a friend of Laura’s and while we didn’t talk a lot anymore, she was good to the kids. 

“Oh, heavens no, I’m sorry. I was calling about some blood test results that came back for Milo.” 

He’d had his yearly physical two days ago and because he’d turned ten, they’d wanted to do a complete blood workup on him. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” 

“Well, Easton, I was a little concerned by some of the counts for his platelets and white blood cells. Have you noticed or has Milo mentioned unexplained bruising, a rash that looks like small reddish pinpricks known as petechiae, or anything else abnormal?” 

“No, nothing.”

“I’m hoping this is a lab error but in case it’s not, it’s best you take Milo to the emergency room. If it’s an error he will be sent home; if it’s not, he’ll be where he needs to be.” 

“Jennifer.” I swallowed as my pulse thundered in my ears and sweat began to bead on my forehead. 

“Yes, Easton?” 

“What were the counts? How bad is it?” 

“I really don’t want to⁠—” 

“I’m asking you to tell me.” 

“Very well.” She sighed, but I didn’t believe it was out of frustration with me. I knew from being a first responder that you never wanted to say anything unless you were sure you were one hundred percent correct. 

“Milo’s a ten-year-old boy, and for a healthy child of his age we’d see a platelet count between three hundred thousand and four hundred and eighty thousand. His count came back at twelve hundred.” 

“Oh, my God.” 

“Normal white blood cell counts are between five thousand and ten thousand. Milo’s are at six hundred.” 

“Shit.” 

“Easton. I know your brain is spiraling, and you’re scared. But like I said, let’s not put the cart before the horse. Errors happen. Can you get him to the emergency room?”

“Yeah, I’ll get him there.” 

“I will be there, but I’ll call ahead and let them know that you’re on your way. Breathe, East. You’re worried; Milo will be confused and terrified.” 

She was right. I knew she was. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, Doctor.” 

All I could think as I drove to get Milo from the library where he went after school was that I couldn’t lose my son. If the universe took another piece of my soul, I didn’t think I’d survive it. 

“Please, don’t take my boy,” I whispered to whoever and whatever was out there, and hit the gas.





A Long Way Back by Barbara Elsborg
Prologue
HOW COULD EVERY PART OF your body hurt? Why was everything hurting? Tay tried to move and, crucified by pain, went under again.

When awareness returned, so did pain, a sharp-toothed animal living inside him. One thought filtered through the agony before he slid into blissful oblivion. Where the hell am I?

*****

Was he sleeping now, caught up in a pain-free dream? Maybe the greedy animal inside him was resting or perhaps bewilderment had temporarily become the stronger foe. What the fuck is happening to me? Something wasn’t right, but he didn’t know what. Then pain came back, chomping at his body, eating him from the inside out, sparking every nerve ending, and he sank back to the bottom of the sea.

*****

“Please,” Jonty pleaded.

“I think my dad still uses it.”

“But it’s rusty.”

Tay looked at the wheelbarrow, then at Jonty’s eager twelve-year-old face, and sighed. “Fine.”

They spent the rest of the first day of the summer holiday in the garage, taking apart his father’s wheelbarrow and Tay’s old bike. Or rather Tay did, while Jonty sat, making him laugh and drawing sketches of how he wanted the kite buggy to look. Tay had rolled his eyes when Jonty showed him a picture of a sparkly-blue buggy with giant wheels, a padded seat and dragon wings. Not something that would emerge from the pieces of metal Tay had in front of him.

In the end, Tay’s dad helped, welding the parts together, finding a seat from work and attaching it. Jonty had sprayed it—and the garage wall and his mother’s freezer and his dad’s golf shoes—with silver and blue paint, then they’d had to wait until the buggy was dry before they tried it out.

They hauled it to the beach first thing the next morning.

“You want to go first?” Tay asked as he got the kite airborne.

“No. You show me how to do it.”

Moments later, Tay was racing the buggy along the stretch of sand, steering with his feet, working the kite back and forth to give him more power and speed. He could hear Jonty whooping behind him. Tay whooped himself when he managed to turn without tipping over or letting the kite drop out of the sky, and he headed back towards Jonty. Once the kite was overhead, the buggy slowed and Tay came to a stop at Jonty’s side.

“Oh my God. That looks so much fun.”

“Swap places.”

Tay fastened Jonty to the kite and explained what to do. But before he’d told him how to stop, Jonty was off, zooming down the beach. Had he even registered how to turn? As Jonty continued past the point that Tay had changed direction, Tay decided he hadn’t, and ran after him.

Shit, how fast is he going? Tay’s heart leapt into his mouth as the buggy flew into the air and Jonty fell out. He was dragged for a little way over the sand before the kite fell, and when Tay realised Jonty wasn’t moving, he ran faster.

By the time he reached him, he was frantic. No helmet. Tay’s mother would be furious. Jonty didn’t have a mother to care and his dad probably wouldn’t give a shit but… Please let him be all right.

Tay threw himself onto the sand, his chest heaving. But as he leaned over, Jonty opened his eyes and grinned. “That was awesome.”

“You dick. I thought you were dead.”

“Did you see me fly? Better get a harness and a helmet. I don’t want anything happening to you. No one else will be my friend.”

Tay rolled onto his back, and laughed.

*****

Tay became aware of things being done to him. Intrusive, painful and embarrassing things. He wanted to tell people to stop touching him, turning him, messing around with him, but no words came from his mouth. He dreamed he’d been abducted by aliens, taken aboard their spacecraft, and was being experimented on. He tried to lift a hand, to reach out for help, to open his mouth and yell that he was there, that he was trapped. All he could do was cry and howl and moan. Pain and fear had many voices.

Moments of consciousness became longer and his dread of the dark, shapeless animal inside him grew, because now he could sense its approach, hear its slithering steps, and knew its bite was coming.

Yet the intensity of the pain was diminishing. He was winning that battle, and still losing the other. He kept falling into endless black and there was nothing he could do to stop it happening. All he could do was reach for memories of Jonty.

*****

Tay wondered how he’d let Jonty talk him into making a birthday cake for his mum. Well, he knew why. Because Jonty didn’t have a mum, not at home anyway, and Tay would do almost anything to make Jonty smile. Jonty smiled a lot, though it wasn’t always genuine. But he was happy now, even in the mess of Tay’s mother’s kitchen. Tay had tried not to react as Jonty had used almost every implement in the drawer.

“It’s going to be great,” Jonty said.

The cake was in the oven and Jonty was scraping out the mixing bowl and licking the spatula. He offered Tay a mouthful. It tasted…slightly unusual. Jonty didn’t seem to be bothered.

“Actually, I don’t know why we didn’t just put a bowl of cake mixture on the table and give everyone spoons,” Jonty said.

“Where would you have put the candles?”

“That’s true.”

Tay wasn’t sure how his mother would react to the blazing inferno she’d soon be faced with, but Jonty had used his precious money to buy forty candles and there was no way they weren’t going on the cake.

They cleaned the kitchen together while the cake was cooking. Tay took a peek in the oven and winced.

“What?” Jonty asked.

“You did follow the recipe exactly?”

Jonty couldn’t afford to buy Tay’s mum a present. He’d wanted to make the cake on his own so Tay’s only involvement had been to tell Jonty where stuff was in the kitchen.

“Yep. Well…”

Tay didn’t ask, but whatever Jonty had done probably explained what was happening in the oven.

“It has another fifteen minutes to go,” Jonty said.

“I’d check it. It’s escaping from the tin.”

Jonty took it out of the oven and groaned. “It looks like a chocolate brain’s exploded. Maybe it tastes nice.”

“I’m sure it will.” Hopefully.

After his mother had managed to blow out all the candles, she and his dad, Tay and Jonty had a slice. Jonty had disguised the brain-look of it with a lot of pink icing, but the cake tasted wrong.

They all ate it, because Jonty had made it. Tay’s mum said it was delicious. It wasn’t.

*****

One day, Tay remembered that he’d fallen, but nothing more. So here had to be a hospital, not an alien spacecraft. He was almost disappointed. But that explained why people were doing…things to him. Nurses, doctors… Gradually words began to make sense, voices became familiar, but touch remained scary. He was still spending longer under the surface than above it.

His family came to see him. And Jonty. My best friend. Tay tried so hard to open his eyes and speak. He wanted to tell Jonty not to cry, wanted to tell him more than that, things he should have said and never had because he’d been scared. There was a lesson to be learnt in this, but would he ever get the chance to show he’d learned it? When he got better—if he got better, he’d tell Jonty how much he loved him.

In the fog of his life, Tay understood the fall had done something to his brains as well as his body. For the time being, he was having trouble communicating, but that had to be temporary—right? He wasn’t paralysed. He could move a little, though not, it seemed, when he told himself to. He lay in his nest. A broken-winged bird waiting to see if he’d ever fly again.

*****

When Tay found out at school that Jonty had been taken to hospital, he pleaded with his dad to drive him there. Don’t want to remember this. Tay had been horrified when he’d seen him. His sweet face all battered and bruised. A split lip. Broken arm. Black eyes. Jonty’s dad had been sitting next to him and Tay’s dad had persuaded him to go for a coffee while Tay stayed with Jonty. The moment the men left, Jonty opened his eyes. They filled with tears.

Tay caught hold of his hand and squeezed gently. “Well, your looks were going to go eventually.”

Jonty laughed, then gasped in pain.

“Who did it?”

“You can’t tell anyone. Swear.”

Tay nodded.

“I told my dad I liked boys.”

Rage consumed Tay.

“No,” Jonty said. “You promised. Obviously, I’m not gay anymore.”

Tay released a strangled laugh. He wanted to tell Jonty how he felt about him, but the words wouldn’t come out. He might put Jonty in more danger.

Tay didn’t tell his parents that it was Jonty’s dad who’d put him in the hospital, because even if he begged them not to, they’d tell the police.

That night, he’d dreamt he and Jonty were in each other’s arms. First kiss. First touch. Am I gay too?

*****

Tay sensed he’d woken in a different place. The air smelled different. The sounds were different. Home. Far from being pleased, he wanted to rail at his parents. He wasn’t better yet. Why weren’t the doctors making him well?

Because there’s nothing they can do.

This is all you get.

What do you wish for? This life or death?

The black snake of depression overpowered everything. Was there really nothing more that could be done? This was his life? Unable to move independently, unable to communicate? A living death? He swung between acceptance and rejection, flailing his arms or legs to show he could, though never with the power he’d hoped for. His attempts to speak came out as groans and grunts.

I want to die.

I want to live.

But not like this.

His family hadn’t given up. His mother’s voice was constantly encouraging him to talk, move, squeeze her hand. More importantly, Jonty hadn’t given up. He still believed Tay would get better, so Tay kept breathing. As if I have a choice. He longed for Jonty’s visits. Jonty chattered as if Tay was responding to him. He talked and talked and said things that made Tay want to laugh and he hoped he had. I’m here.

*****

Jonty never gave up. That thought repeated in Tay’s head. Jonty had put up with such a lot and he stayed upbeat. Even when his father broke Jonty’s arm, a couple of ribs, and a bone in his back, Jonty had struggled into school and was taken to hospital for the second time. On that occasion, Tay didn’t stay quiet. He went to see the headmaster. Social services were involved and Jonty never went home again.

Tay wasn’t sorry he’d spoken out. He felt guilty for not having done it before. But Jonty didn’t know Tay was the reason he ended up being taken away from his father. Tay wanted to care for Jonty forever, but now Jonty was the one having to care for him and Tay hated that he was so helpless. Their relationship had changed, and not in the way Tay wanted.

*****

It wasn’t hard to detest his life. All the times he’d ever thought he was unhappy paled into insignificance compared to this. Every complaint, every whine, none of it mattered. When he was better, he’d make the most of every second of his life.

But what if he didn’t come out of this? What if this was all he’d ever have? He wouldn’t even be able to communicate that he wanted to die. He wished he hadn’t survived the fall. He was ruining the lives of his parents, stifling Jonty’s. Not his girlfriend’s. She’d not come to see him, he didn’t think, and he was glad. The relationship had been a lie anyway. He’d tried to feel something, but Jonty had his heart, had always had his heart and now he’d never have the chance to tell him.

*****

Tay and Jonty sat on their boards off Bamburgh beach, enjoying the view and the sunshine, chatting while they waited for the perfect wave. Sometimes it was as much about chatting as it was about surfing. Tay talked about university, Jonty about his job at McAllister’s.

That day, a rare day, they were without wetsuits. Ten days of continuous sunshine hadn’t made much difference to the sea temperature, but since they spent most of the time sitting on their boards, it was too hot to be covered up. Tay snuck looks at Jonty’s slender body whenever he could.

“Have you stopped with the piercings now?” Tay asked as Jonty twisted the one in his eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried you’ll spring a leak?”

“I was thinking about getting my cock done.”

Tay almost fell off his board.

“A line of piercings all the way down. What do you think?”

“That I’d break my teeth.”

Jonty laughed. “Okay. Won’t do it then.”

Tay wished Jonty had taken him seriously.

*****

Tay’s periods of awareness gradually increased in number and length, though they rarely coincided with him being able to open his eyes. That required too much effort. But he listened more carefully to what his mother was saying, explaining what was the matter with him. He’d been in a coma, and then in a minimally conscious state, following a traumatic head injury. She was sure he’d get better, kept telling him he would.

Jonty’s visits were precious glimpses of both his best friend and a life beyond the room he was in. Jonty told him about guests at the hotel, then one day he told him about Mr Difficult, who’d tried to check into McAllister’s at nine in the morning. As Jonty explained how they’d had to be rescued, Tay had heard something in his friend’s voice. This guy was different. Jonty liked him. Jealousy was another type of pain. An additional creature inside him, this one clawing at his heart. Sadly, with insufficient violence to kill him.

When Jonty kissed him on the lips and asked, “Going to thump me for that?” Tay’s heart cracked. He moaned and opened his eyes long enough to see Jonty, long enough to secure his image in his head before he slid under again.

Then Jonty came back with Mr Difficult, whose name was Devan. Tay opened his eyes again and looked at Jonty, then turned his head a little to look at Devan before he closed them—wanting to, this time, his heart broken. Devan was tall, dark, handsome, and about ten years older than Jonty. The strong, stable figure that Jonty needed. Even if Tay ever emerged from this, Jonty was lost. He hovered between being glad Jonty had someone better than Brad Greene, who’d never been good for him, and sorrow that Jonty would never know how much Tay loved him.

*****

When Tay finally remembered everything, from somewhere came the absolute certainty that he would get better. Though he suspected the journey back would be a long one and he might never make it all the way. Now that he’d remembered Brad Greene’s role in his fall, something changed in his head. He’d told Jonty that Brad Greene was dangerous. He’d warned him, and look what had happened! This was Jonty’s fault as much as Brad Greene’s. Anger joined pain and frustration, and anger was gaining control.

Gradually Tay emerged from the darkness. He could nod or shake his head in response to questions. They removed the feeding tube. He tried to reach for things. He could keep his eyes focused on people when they crossed the room. The day he was taken outside was a milestone. In a special wheelchair with him fastened in place like a crash test dummy, but to be out of that room was enough to bring tears to his eyes. The sun on his face warmed more than his skin. The sight of the sea inspired him.

I will get better. I will.

He could watch TV and at least indicate whether he wanted a different channel. He could pretend to sleep when Jonty came.

Tay mouthed words, then whispered them, and gradually regained his voice. His first clear word was “Jonty.”

“Shall I call him?” his mother asked.

“Never…wan…see…him…gain.”

*****

Tay continued on an intensive therapy programme. Two hours of occupational therapy, three hours of physiotherapy, and two hours of speech therapy a week, supplemented by his mother and father. He resisted all their efforts to persuade him to see Jonty. Even when Jonty came to the house, Tay said no. Why torture himself?

He could walk with crutches, but not safely. He looked like a newly born giraffe, legs all over the place. He needed the wheelchair if he wanted to go any distance.

He’d regained his speech, though his voice was slow and deliberate. His determination to get back the life he’d lost never wavered. He refused to accept it wouldn’t happen. If he just tried harder, worked at it longer, he’d succeed. Headaches plagued him, but he didn’t give in to them. Pills helped. His parents expected him to stay at home, but that wasn’t going to happen.

He was just at the beginning of his journey.



Davidson King
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.

She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.

If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she’d tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you’re afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.





Barbara Elsborg
Barbara Elsborg lives in Kent in the south of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Volcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide.

After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop.

Her earlier books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, now she concentrates on the bad boys, and hopes her books are as much fun to read as they are to write.



Davidson King
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Barbara Elsborg
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Hurt Me Not by Davidson King

A Long Way Back by Barbara Elsborg


Monday, November 18, 2024

πŸ’œMonday Morning's MenuπŸ’œ: Rough Terrain by Annabeth Albert



Summary:
Out of Uniform #7
The camping trip from hell may be the first stop on the road to happily-ever-after.

Navy SEAL Renzo Bianchi has a soft spot for Canaan Finley, and not only because the man makes a mean smoothie. He’s the first guy to get Renzo’s motor revving in a long time. But when he agrees to Canaan’s insane charade—one all-access fake boyfriend, coming right up—he never expects more than a fling.

Creating a hot Italian SEAL boyfriend to save face seemed like a good idea…until his friends called Canaan’s bluff. Now he’s setting off into the woods with the very man who inspired his deception, and Canaan is not the outdoorsy type. The sparks are already flying when a flash flood separates them from their group, leaving Renzo and Canaan very much trapped…very much alone in the wilderness.

Working together to come up with a plan for survival is sexier than either of them expects. But back in the real world, being a couple is bringing its own set of hazards…




Chapter One
Canaan slipped on a puddle behind the register, narrowly avoiding hitting the tile floor, before he even got a chance to ogle the latest group of SEALs walking through the Smoothie Palace doors.

"Look out! I'll mop in a minute." His coworker Sage reached around him to add strawberries to the blender.

Fitness Friday was his favorite day of the week. Two-for-Tuesdays tended to bring in the civilian base employees in cheerful clumps, and on Wacky Wednesdays young ensigns and newly minted lieutenants enjoyed one-upping each other's bizarre combos. But something about Smoothie Palace's protein drink specials on Fridays brought out the SEALs.

Sure, Coronado was overrun with SEALs as it was, but Canaan looked forward to seeing the guys come in, many still in PT shorts and T-shirts, all sweaty and glowing from the obstacle course or running. They laughed and joked and tended to tip better than the civilians or the brass. And the eye candy ... Good lord. Biceps and abs and thighs for days. It was no wonder that he worked with a little extra something something in his step Fridays.

"Your eyes get bigger and bigger every week," Sage teased as she worked.

"Shut up." He went back to the register to help the next person in line.

He'd own his SEAL fetish. Just like he owned this job. The wages sucked, even with tips, but the hours fit with his class schedule, and the boss was a nice man who always asked Canaan how school was coming and didn't give him crap. So Canaan did his best, delivered superior customer service, and enjoyed the perks of the job, SEALs included.

He was helping a ripped African American SEAL with a gleaming shaved head, badass biceps tattoo, and shiny wedding ring when some of his favorite customers came in, all wearing camo work uniforms. They almost always came in together — a taller auburn-haired guy with a scorpion tat on his forearm, a shorter burly man, an earnest younger guy, and the muscled Italian stud of Canaan's dreams. They all had fun SEAL nicknames too. Bacon. Curly. Shiny. Rooster. The Italian guy was Rooster, which suited his styled dark hair, muscles that outdid even his built friends, Mediterranean coloring, and endless swagger.

They took their time deciding on their order, so Canaan waited patiently and tried not to look like he was listening in.

"Shiny, you need to put a ring on that girl of yours." Curly was newly married and apparently eager to get others hitched up. "Get out of the barracks."

"Aww, we're not that serious. She just came to your wedding as a favor. I think." Shiny didn't look any too sure, and Canaan felt for the guy. Not knowing how serious a hookup wanted to be was one of Canaan's talents.

"She seemed nice." Rooster had the best voice, deep with more than a hint of East Coast to it. "Just tell her how you feel. Women tend to dig when you're straightforward."

Shiny groaned, and apparently none of them were in any hurry to order, which was fine. More Rooster watching for him.

"Easy for you to give advice. You're the one who brought a dude to Curly's wedding."

Wait. Hold up. Rooster did what now? Canaan had been flirting rather shamelessly with the whole group for months now, and his favorite one was known to bat for his team? Hello. Red-letter day. They could take till next year to order, and Canaan would just bask in this amazing revelation.

"Are we going to order?" Shiny stepped forward, got his usual Power Lifter Pineapple, and seemed awfully eager to move down the counter away from his friends. Curly got the Strong Arm Strawberry, and Bacon got that week's special — a cherry base blended with vanilla protein powder. He was a good tipper, so Canaan made sure he got a wide smile and thanks in return before he moved farther down the counter. Which left Canaan all alone with Rooster, who was taking forever studying the menu.

"Tell me. Is the cherry stuff that good?" he asked Canaan in that voice of his — all confident and commanding but silky smooth like cheesecake.

"Dunno. Do you like cherries?" Canaan reached below him to the fridge where they had a few sample cups made up with the special. "Wanna try a sip?"

Rooster swallowed with the sort of seriousness Canaan imagined wine tasters used, then grimaced. "Too sweet."

"Now that's a complaint I don't hear very often." Canaan winked at him. "You like something a bit more ... complex?"

Rooster's mouth quirked. "Not complicated. I don't like nine million ingredients."

"I can handle uncomplicated." Canaan gave him his real smile, not the one he kept on stock for good tippers, but the one that said he really wouldn't mind another twenty minutes of this banter as long as the line stayed slow. "How about the High Octane — it's coffee, chocolate, protein powder, and energy blend. Not too many ingredients, but really good. It's what I get on breaks."

"Your favorite?" Rooster smiled back, a lazy grin that made Canaan's stomach all warm and wobbly. "Guess I can give it a whirl."

Canaan rang him up, and since Sage was still busy with the other three and there wasn't a line, he started the drink for Rooster, fetching the cold brew coffee from the fridge.

"Big plans this weekend?" he asked while he made the drink.

"Working out with a friend tomorrow. Gonna film some new moves."

"Please tell me you put those clips online." Thinking fast, Canaan grabbed a blank stamp card and a pen and thrust it at him. "I'll fill a stamp card for you if you give me your handle."

"Well ..." Rooster's eyes shifted to his friends, who were deep in conversation. "Navy doesn't exactly approve of me being on social media ..."

"Not gonna tell a soul," Canaan promised. "I just like workout videos and fitness pics." And how.

"Yeah?" Rooster gave him an appraising stare, one that had Canaan damn near preening. "That so?"

"Yup." Canaan set the blender going and returned to the counter. He filled a stamp card and waved it at Rooster. "So how about it?"

"Okay, okay." Rooster scribbled something on the other card and pushed it at Canaan. Their fingers brushed as they traded cards, thick callused fingers rubbing against his, and Canaan swore his toes curled from the contact.

"So how about you?" Rooster asked as Canaan poured his drink into a purple plastic Smoothie Palace cup.

"How about me what?" Canaan was still busy celebrating getting his username and felt a little punch-drunk on the contact to boot.

"Big plans?"

Here was the opening Canaan had been waiting months for, and no way was he missing it. "Dunno. I get off at nine. Wanna help me find trouble?"

"You make that offer to all your customers?" Rooster studied him intently, and Canaan straightened his spine, trying to pass whatever test he was giving him.

"Just my favorite ones." The more honest answer would be just you, but Canaan didn't want to seem too desperate, so he kept his voice light and easy. "How 'bout it?"

"Rooster!" Bacon called out before Rooster could answer. "Come on. We've got that meeting in ten."

"Sorry. Gotta head out. Thanks for the card." Rooster gave him a smile but no answer before hurrying over to join his friends.

Crap. That was most likely a firm no, which was what Canaan deserved for crossing the line between flirty and inviting with a customer. But it sure as hell didn't stop him from looking up the guy's social media when he took his break a couple of hours later. He'd worked hard for that intel — including using one of his allotted free drink cards that he usually reserved for when he screwed up an order — and he wasn't going to turn down some prime viewing material.

And Rooster was good. His parkour-style workouts where he went through homemade obstacle courses were mesmerizing. There was no mention of SEALs or even San Diego on his social media, and his Philly-Fit handle further obscured his deets. That and he was always in civilian clothing. Usually shirtless, thank you sweet Jesus, showing off pecs that could double as Hummer hubcaps. Tons of selfies too — him posing in various mirrors, commenting on his physique with adorable little quips like "Only angle I really like my abs" or "Think I'm finally getting the triceps definition I wanted." Humble brags from a guy who clearly believed in treating his body like a temple, and Canaan was all about worshiping at that altar.

He was deep into Rooster's videos when his phone rang. Damian. Who could never just text like a normal person, but had to call.

"Yeah?" He paced away from the back door.

"You on break?"

"Yep. Only have a few minutes." That Damian knew his schedule would be more disconcerting if they hadn't known each other for well over a decade. And it went both ways. Canaan knew that Damian and the rest of the band were in Spain this week, finishing up their latest European tour. He hadn't done the time zone math, but Damian's languid, slightly hoarse voice said that they'd just wrapped a show and he was kicking back with a drink in a hotel somewhere. Once upon a time, that voice had done things to Canaan's insides, revved him up, but now all it did was make his back muscles tighten.

"That's fine. Just wanted to call to confirm we're still on for the trip. Kelly is making the final arrangements with the wilderness tour company, and they want firm numbers. So you are bringing someone, right?"

"I ... Not sure. Do I have to?" He wished Kelly could have been the one to call him — this whole camping expedition with Canaan's old band was Kelly's idea, and he was infinitely easier to deal with than Damian, who had all sorts of rules and requests for what should be a chill weekend.

"Canaan. Baby. Everyone will be coupled up. I'm bringing Eric, and everyone else has someone. I don't want things to be awkward between us."

God forbid they were awkward. Like breaking up in Prague hadn't been bad enough, or Damian taking up with Eric, the replacement drummer, mere minutes later, now apparently they had to socialize like adults because the rest of their friend circle demanded it. And quite honestly, Canaan had lost enough the past few years. He wasn't losing his oldest friends too. "Things will be fine."

"Of course," Damian said, a little too quickly and brightly. "But last time we talked, you said you were seeing someone ... Just bring them. It'll be easier. On everyone."

More like easier on Eric's jealous ass. And had Canaan said that? He supposed it was possible in some vague make-Damian-happy way that he'd alluded to such a thing.

"I ... uh ..." The absolute best thing would be to say the truth, which was that he was exactly as single as he'd been boarding that plane in Prague. As single as he'd been in the three years since, flitting from hookup to hookup, nothing sticking. But what came out was "He's a SEAL. You know, unpredictable hours. Could be deployed anytime. Can't say for sure if he'll have leave ..."

"Well, can he try?" Damian did not sound in the least impressed by the SEAL factoid. "And really, I'm happy for you. About time you moved on."

"Yeah." About that ...

"Listen. Since your guy's military and all, I'll just tell Kelly you're bringing him. I'll cover the fee, and you guys just show up."

"I've got money." Not much, but he did have some, and didn't feel the best about letting Damian float him. Not to mention his imaginary boyfriend.

"My present to you. I insist. Just get your ass to Flagstaff."

"I'll try. Probably by myself though because —"

"Bring. Him. Don't be a loser."

Too late. He already was a loser. Giant L and all. Twenty-six and concocting relationships out of thin air like some sixteen-year-old might. And he'd be showing up alone with some bullshit story, and things would be awkward with Damian and Eric, because of course they would be.

But he'd be with the rest of his guys again, get to catch up on their lives, hear all the tour stories he'd missed. The togetherness would be worth any issues with Damian or feeling like a fifth wheel. Damian might be a class-A jerk at times, but Canaan could still remember when he'd been a brash, confident teenager who'd turned his knees to jelly. And even though Damian had changed, Kelly and Jules and the others had been there for Canaan through some of his hardest times. He missed their old closeness even more than he missed performing with the band. Sure, he had friends locally, but there was something special about hanging with people he'd known since he was fourteen.

As he ended the call, Rooster's workout video resumed playing. He flexed and moved with grace, and simply watching him calmed Canaan's racing pulse.

Man, if he really were able to conjure up a SEAL boyfriend, he'd look an awful lot like Rooster, have that same silky voice and slow smile. And in an ideal world, Rooster would take him up on his offer to meet, and that would be the start of something special ...

Nope. Canaan lived in the real world, one where he lacked superpowers and where he had gotten himself into this mess, and he would have to get himself out.

Renzo wiped the sweat from his forehead. So much for spring — it was hot outside already and hotter still in the dive locker.

"Rooster, man, tell me why we always wind up with these crap jobs?" Even poor Shiny's usual optimism was dipping as they finished up their inventory of dive equipment.

"Because we're not chiefs yet." Renzo went for honesty as he checked oxygen canisters. Maybe if he were a chief, he could shed the stupid Rooster nickname. "Man, I cannot wait. Inventory is the worst."

"At least we had enough time to grab a snack." Shiny gave him a goofy grin. "God bless Fitness Fridays."

You're telling me. "Yup."

He'd let Shiny think he had the idea to get smoothies, when really Renzo had been looking forward to it all week. The guys would razz him hard if they knew that, and he did not need them giving him grief just because he enjoyed bantering with one particular Smoothie Palace employee. Big full lips. Pale green eyes. Lush blond hair. The sort of compact build that always worked for him, combined with infectious confidence. The flirty guy whose name tag said Canaan was just fun, and after a long, boring week, a little pick-me-up was exactly what he'd needed.

While he hadn't intended to give out his social media handle, he wasn't going to waste time beating himself up over it. It wasn't exactly a state secret — plenty of the guys knew about his videos — and Canaan didn't really seem like the sort of guy to go reporting him to the higher-ups, who might have something to say about Renzo's little hobby. And if Canaan dug fit guys? So much the better for the little bit of flirt they had going on.

Not that anything was going to come of it — Renzo wasn't looking to start anything, and he had a feeling that Canaan hit on a lot of customers without being particularly serious about the follow-through. Besides, Renzo didn't hook up with base people. He liked to keep that part of his life as separate as possible, just like his videos. No need to have to give up smoothies just because things went sideways.

"So I took your advice." Shiny wasn't one to work in silence, and Renzo made an encouraging noise to let him know he was listening. "Texted my girl. Told her I wanted to go out tonight."

"Good for you." Renzo straightened another canister. He liked everything facing the same way, straight rows of evenly spaced equipment.

"Think I'll tell her I want to be exclusive." Shiny's cheeks turned more than a little green at the prospect. And this was why Renzo didn't do relationships — too much time being nauseous waiting to see how the other person wanted to drop-kick your heart. "You wanna come?"

Not a chance. No way was Renzo getting in the middle of a state-of-the-relationship talk. "Think I've got plans."

"You sure? I can probably get Mary to bring a friend. Her friend Katie thinks you're ripped."

"I don't need a setup."

Shiny frowned. "Is it because she's a girl? I can ask Mary —"

"Dude." Renzo rolled his eyes at Shiny. "I go all ways, but I don't need help getting laid."

Setups like what Shiny was proposing were particularly challenging. Tons of people were SEAL chasers — only interested in him for his trident and potential as arm candy. And while appreciation of his physique could be fun, it got old after a while.

"Fine. Suit yourself." Shiny sighed. "So what are your plans for tonight?"

Unbidden, an image of Canaan popped into Renzo's head. We could get into trouble. Wasn't that what he'd said? And trouble sounded damn good. An antidote for the restlessness that kept sneaking up on him. He did not deal with downtime well, and the lull their team was in wasn't helping and neither was his sorta-self-imposed dry spell. Maybe he did need something, but not an evening watching Shiny dance around talking serious to his girl.



Saturday's Series Spotlight



Annabeth Albert
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open--no flashlights required! When she's not adding to her keeper shelf, she's a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.

Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.


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Rough Terrain #7
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