A Christmas Call of Duty (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Shay

" O of!" The blunt force of Brandon's body weight lands square on my stomach as he catapults from the back of the couch to the floor, using my body as a springboard. Suddenly, I’m wide awake. I sit up and quickly scan the room for any sign of life, but the silence is deafening. No sign of Colt. Or Jack.

Of course, they're gone. What did I expect?

I let out a bitter laugh and run a hand through my tangled hair. “I knew this was going to happen,” I tell myself. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised he left. That’s what guys like him do at the first sign of smoke, and this only proves my point.”

But if there was one thing Colt was right about, it’s that I have to start making better choices. And that change starts today.

I stretch out my legs and feel the warm rush of blood flow all the way down into my toes, wiggling them until I hear a loud clunk. I look down at the floor by the couch and see my cell phone. Aha! There you are. I reach down to scoop it up, then immediately unlock the screen and open Cupid’s hub. Let’s see…

SwimmerSam is kind of cute. Looking for Mrs. Right. Likes: Hiking and almost anything outdoors, concerts, karaoke, walking the dog, and going to the gym daily. Sounds promising. Work: Construction manager. Nice. Location: Harrisville, NY. Yikes. That’s almost an hour away, but a small price to pay to find my match, right? Swipe right.

I scan through the next few suggested matches and take a chance by swiping right on three others who I’m certain have no ties to Uncle Sam. Feeling satisfied, I force myself to stand, stretching out the kinks from sleeping on the couch. It's time to clean up and get back to reality. Back to a world where I don't let myself get swept away by handsome soldiers with pretty eyes and stupid smiles.

I let out a huff, continuing to survey the mess from last night. Only, there is no mess. Except for the oil lamp sitting beside a perfectly folded stack of blankets on the reception desk, everything else looks just like it did before the storm. Before Colt.

I carry the blankets back to the supply closet, and a plaintive meow catches my attention. When I go back for the lamp, I see Brandon sitting by his empty food bowl, looking at me expectantly.

"Alright, alright," I mutter. After a bit of rummaging, I find a can of cat food tucked away on a back shelf in the break room. "You're lucky, buddy. This is our last one."

I pop open the lid and dump the contents into his bowl, then fill his water dish as he purrs contentedly. At least one of us is happy this morning.

The sound of Brandon's enthusiastic eating makes my stomach growl, and I realize I haven't eaten since... well. Since the pie last night with Colt. My cheeks grow warm thinking about how nice he was even when I was berating him, and I quickly shake my head to dispel the dangerous memory. "Focus, Shay," I tell myself sternly. "You’re just hungry. That’s all. You need food. Real food. Not leftover buttermilk pie or..." I glance at Brandon's bowl, wrinkling my nose, "...cat food."

I'm jolted from my thoughts by the sound of the front door opening, and my stomach somersaults. What if it's Colt? What if he came back? I hurry to the reception area, prepared to give him another piece of my mind if it is, but as I round the corner, my heart shrinks.

It's not Colt.

Dr. Weber shuffles in, shaking snow from his coat, and right behind him is Gladys, her arms full of plastic food containers among other things. "Merry Christmas!" she sings. "I told Dr. Weber how my boy Jimmy saw your car when he was out plowing this morning. Thought we'd stop by with a little pick-me-up to see how you’re doing. Blueberry muffins and—"

My eyes zero in on the travel mug in her hand. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose, and suddenly, I'm moving toward her like a heat seeking missile.

"—some coffee," she finishes as I nearly bowl Dr. Weber over in my rush to reach her.

"Bless you," I breathe, snatching the mug from her hands. I take a slow sip, savoring the warmth as it goes down. And the hit of caffeine. It's exactly what I need after the kind of night I've had.

Dr. Weber settles into one of the waiting room chairs while Gladys takes the plate of muffins to the break room. "Shay, I'm going to put these muffins in the fridge but help yourself if you get hungry,” she calls behind her. “You must be starving after last night."

"Thanks, Gladys. I'll grab one on my way out." I take another long sip of coffee and revisit my spot on the couch.

"I'm sorry you got stuck here all night,” Dr. Weber says with a guilty look. “I should've never let you stay and close by yourself. Not on Christmas Eve. Not when you could’ve been spending time with your grandparents. How are they holding up, anyway? How are you holding up?" Dr. Weber's bushy eyebrows dance over his concerned gaze.

"They're fine. And I am too. Really. There’s no need to apologize. Besides, I was here to help when someone needed it… And Grandma's manicotti is always better on the second day, anyway,” I say with a tight smile.

"Ah, yes. I ran into James Ralston at the festival, and he mentioned there was an emergency with Jack. Said his youngest boy would be stopping in after I told him you had stayed behind. What did he say his name was, again? Oh, that's right. Colt! Good thing he did, too, or you'd have been stuck here all alone on Christmas Eve."

Hearing Dr. Weber say his name feels like sucker punch number three in the last twenty-four hours, and I wonder what gives. Ugh. With the way these Ralston brothers keep popping up in my life, maybe I should consider leaving the country. I could always go to the North Pole. I bet I'd fit in great with the rest of Santa's elves. And, as an added bonus, the only soldiers within a 200-mile radius would be the kind I wouldn't have to feel guilty about running over with my car.

"And the storm. Were there any issues after the power went out?"

"Not really, aside from the cold. But thanks to an endless supply of animal blankets, we were able to manage."

His eyes flood with a look of relief before he nods.

"Any word about the shelter?" I say, desperate to change the subject.

"That's one of the reasons I'm here, actually. The mayor called an emergency planning meeting at the shelter today at 3 o'clock. She wants all available volunteers there to discuss fundraising ideas." He pauses, looking at me expectantly. "I was hoping you might be able to attend on the clinic's behalf. You always have the best ideas."

"Today?" I blink, surprised. "I mean, yes. Of course, I can be there." Sure, it may be Christmas. But it's not like I have any plans unless you count my date later with a pint of Rebel ice cream and Roku.

Dr. Weber smiles as he pushes up from his chair. "Margo's a been a good friend to me. I'll be happy to let her know you'll be there."

After saying goodbye to Gladys and Dr. Weber, my mind’s already racing with ideas for ways to help the shelter. As I push open the clinic door, the crisp winter air hits my face, and I'm pleasantly surprised at how clear the sky is. Now, all I need is a hot shower and a good workout to clear my head. I trudge through the snow to my car with Brandon in one hand, and the other struggling to fish my keys from my purse. That's when I spot it. A folded piece of paper tucked under my windshield wiper. My heart races as I pluck it free and read the words scribbled inside:

Shay, Thanks for the pie.

Smile! It will get better, I promise.

-Colt

I stare at the note, a confusing mix of emotions swirling in my chest. Part of me wants to crumple it up and toss it away. Another part wants to trace my fingers over his handwriting, committing it to memory. Instead, I carefully fold it back up and slip it into my coat pocket as I go about the rest of my day like none of this ever happened.

I’m fine. Everything is fine.

***

I slam the barbell back onto the rack, my quads burning from the set of squats I just finished. The gym is eerily quiet, save for my heavy breathing and the clanking of weights. I guess that's one of the perks of having a keycard with round-the-clock access. No staff scheduled on holidays means I have all the space in the world to work through my frustrations without an audience.

As I move on to the leg press machine, the words in Colt's note drive me to push harder through the pain, and I find myself reaching for it between sets. " Smile! It gets better, I promise ."

Seriously, who does this guy think he is? Some kind of life coach? I scoff, crumpling the note and shoving it back into the pocket of my sweatpants. And yes, I may have slipped it in there when I was home changing, but that's beside the point. The nerve of that man thinking he can waltz into my life and leave cryptic messages like we're old friends is infuriating. He knows absolutely nothing about me or what I’ve been through. Aside from what I told him of course.

I load more weight onto the machine, channeling my growing irritation into every rep and wishing I could forget about it and move on already. With a grunt, I push through my final set, trying to focus solely on the movement. But Colt's face keeps flashing in my mind, his green eyes haunting me even here in my sanctuary.

After wiping down the machine, I glance at the clock on the gym wall and curse under my breath. It's already after 2:00 PM. I use the back of my arm to wipe sweat from my forehead as I make my way to the women's locker room. Good call on packing a shower bag.

The tiny space is a far cry from luxury, but given the morning I've had, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. I peel off my sweaty workout clothes and step into the shower stall, willing the hot water to wash away memories of last night along with the grime.

As I dry off and give my hair a thorough blow-dry, my mind wanders to the shelter. How in the world are we going to come up with that kind of money in one month? I shake my head, trying to dislodge any more negative thoughts. All that matters right now is getting to that meeting and being on time.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm pulling into the parking lot of the Snowberry Creek Animal Shelter, and a familiar voice calls out. "Shay-Shay! Over here!"

I turn to see Tyler jogging towards me with spiky new platinum-colored hair that’s almost blinding. I can't help but smile. He might be the only person outside of work I’ll admit to liking, but only because he’s the only one who ever stuck up for me when it mattered the most. And seeing his hairstyle change more times in a month than most peoples’ change in a lifetime never gets old, either.

"Hey, Ty! I'm digging this whole blonde mohawk thing you've got going. It's giving serious punk rock vibes," I say, leaning in for a side hug.

"Yeah, you like it? I thought the 'rents were gonna flip when they saw it this morning. Guess not everyone appreciates my artistic expressions like you do." He slings an arm around my shoulder and fills me in on the shelter’s most recent struggles as we walk toward the entrance. "It's been rough, Shay. We're barely keeping our heads above water."

I nod, feeling the heaviness of the situation as it settles between us. "We're going to figure this out, Tyler. We have to."

Inside, we're greeted by a sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Margo, the shelter manager, hands us name tags. "Everyone, please fill these out and gather in the main area. I'll be splitting you all into groups here shortly."

I scribble my name on the tag and stick it to my sweatshirt as Margo divides us into four separate groups. Tyler is in mine, naturally, and I run a quick scan of the others, mentally cataloging any potential allies for our fundraising efforts.

“Um… Shay,” Tyler says in a hushed tone. “Someone you know?”

“What? Who are you talking about?” I turn to the right and my heart drops into my stomach when I see him standing in the corner with hands shoved deep into the pockets of his blue jeans. Colt freaking Ralston, in the flesh. And still wearing that stupid handsome smile. Our eyes lock, and a wave of dread washes over me.

Looks like Christmas is turning out to be full of surprises.