Sinful Mates (Savage Series Collection)

Chapter 3

“The merger document?” I ask, peering at his computer screen. He nods, and I hit print before walking back to the printer. His document prints out. I staple it together and then hand it to him.

Theo watches my every move. His intense gaze makes me feel uncomfortable, but I can’t look away. After a few tense seconds, he turns and walks out without a word. I inhale a greedy breath of air, not realizing I was holding it. I make my way back to my desk. Theo has been acting weird since last week. I’ve caught him staring at me more times than I could count.

Tobias has even been on edge lately. I heard them arguing over something the other day. I tried to tune it out as best I could, their relationship is none of my business. But it makes it a little awkward and tense around the office, and Theo’s bizarre stare-offs aren’t helping.

Tobias remains in his office most of the day in one of his moods. The only time I hear from him is when I have transferred calls to his phone line. Before I know it, it is 5:30 PM. Where has my day gone? Mr. Kane and Mr. Madden leave at 5:00. I finish shutting everything down before switching the lights off and heading to the parking lot. Once there, I grab my phone charger and some warm clothes to change into and pile everything into my handbag.

I have to be back to my car before Tom locks up. Tom works a few hours in the morning and then returns at night to empty the trash and scrub the floors before locking up the garage and rolling down the doors at 9:00 PM. It gives me plenty of time to visit my mother before heading back.

Walking through the empty parking garage, I come out on the ground floor level, on the park side. Cutting through the park, I head towards the big blue neon sign that sits atop the hospital across from Kane and Madden Industries. Mater Hospital. Every day, I walk over to check on her. Making my way to the second floor, I head to the wards: room eighteen, bed five. I’m lucky the hospital is so close to my job; I can't imagine trying to fight traffic, taking away the precious time I have with her.

My mother has been here for just over four months. I take a seat in the sterile room. I hate hospitals. They always smell of hand sanitizer, and this particular ward reeks of death. No, my mother doesn't have some debilitating chronic illness. I actually wish that were the case. No, my mother, Lila Riley, is in a coma.

She'd been driving home from a local bar she worked at, and a drunk driver ran a red light, smashing into her. Her car was a total loss; they had to use the jaws of life to get her from the vehicle. She has been in a coma ever since. The doctors told me she is brain-dead and that the only thing keeping her alive are the machines she is hooked up to.

The hospital said they couldn’t keep her in this state forever and tried to have her life support shut off last month. After appealing their decision to turn off her life support, I’d pushed it to nearly five months. I’m still waiting to hear from the Medical Ethics Association. I know it is a battle I will lose. But for now, it has granted me extra days with her.

It’s only a matter of time before they pull the plug on her and tell me I have to say goodbye—also the reason why I live in my car. Mom’s medical bills are expensive, and even when the time comes to switch her off, I will have to live in my car for at least another two years to finish paying the debt off. My medical insurance covers a dependent child or spouse, so it is no use. My mother doesn’t even have medical insurance. She worked cash in hand and struggled to keep a job for long.

I know most people think it's wishful thinking that she will wake up, but I can't give up on her. She taught me to walk, talk, use a spoon, and how to ride a bike. From the beginning, she has been by my side. She was my first friend. In fact, she is my only friend. She raised me as a single mom from the time I was born. My father walked out when he found out she was expecting. I never met the man; frankly, I don’t care to meet him.

I lost our house after three weeks of not being able to pay the mortgage. It turned out we were already months behind when the accident happened, and my mother had kept it from me. I had to choose to keep mom alive or keep the house. So, I chose her.

I know she would have done the same for me. I know I’m delaying the inevitable, but how do you kill your mom? Kill the one person who spent your entire life loving and supporting you? When the time comes, I need to know I have tried everything, or I know I won't be able to live with the guilt.

I look down at my mother; she appears to be sleeping, besides the tube hanging out of her mouth that forces her to breathe and is keeping her alive. She has numerous tubes hanging out of her skinny arms.

My mother used to be strong, lively, and happy. She looked younger than her age. With her blonde hair that was just below her shoulder blades, she had excellent skin, no wrinkles, full pink lips, and a tan complexion. She looked great for a 45-year-old.

But now, her skin has turned gray from the lack of sunlight, and her hair has become oily and flat as she has lost the ability to care for it daily. She has lost all her weight and muscle mass and is now skin and bone. She is wasting away in this hospital bed, a living corpse. Sitting in the blue chair, I scoot closer to the bed and grab her hand.

“Hey Momma, I miss you.” I brush her hair off her forehead, which is stuck to her skin. I listen to the beep of her heart monitor, hearing it beep regularly and the sound of the ventilator forcing her to breathe. It is the same set of sounds every day. I used to come and sit with her for hours and tell her about my day or read to her. But after a couple of months, I just tell her I love her. I have run out of things to say.

I miss her soft voice telling me everything is going to be okay. I miss the way she made everything look effortless. Lila Riley may not have been a perfect mother, but she'd been perfect to me. Yeah, she had a drinking problem, but other than that, I know she did the best she could with the hand life had dealt her.

There was never a lack of love, and no matter how badly I f****d up, she was always there to help me pick up the pieces and rebuild.

When I watch her, I think of all the things she will miss and all the memories she won’t get to be a part of.

After sitting with her for a while, I quickly duck into the small bathroom. The nurse Sally is on night shift tonight and always lets me shower here. It’s the only time I get to shower with warm water. Not hot, but like lukewarm bath water as the showers are temperature regulated. Still, I don't complain. Warm water is far better than cold. The other people in this room need assistance and are bedridden like my mother, so I don't have to worry about anyone opening the door, but I always lock it just in case a cleaner or nurse decides to stop in.

Showering quickly, I wash my hair and my body, scrubbing extra good while I have the power of warm water. When I’m done, I hop out, dry myself off and slip into my track pants so I don't have to change in the cramped car. I also slide my feet into some socks before putting on a pair of flats. I then jam everything back into my oversized handbag while making my way back to my mother’s side to say goodbye.

Sitting on the table next to my charging phone are some club sandwiches. Sally must have come in while I was in the shower. She knows my situation and that I have little left over after I pay the hospital, so every shift she is on, I always find sandwiches or any leftover food from the cafeteria on the table waiting for me.