“That’s right. We’ve got 2,000 employees and plan to hire more across California and Washington State,” he says. “We’re opening three new training bases for new agents, each with offices and live-in barracks. And like I said, we need a designer to team up with our in-house architect and deliver something that will wow our investors.”
“You could hire anyone?—”
“I could. But I wantyou,” Carter replies bluntly. “You need a job, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Then take it; it’s yours,” he says.
Damon chuckles softly. “Just consider it, Clara. You’ve got nothing to lose.”
“You will be generously compensated,” Jace says, adding his own incentive.
I don’t know how we got from “hello, stranger” to “come work for us” in such a short time but given the hurdles I’m having to jump over just to secure a future for my child, I don’t feel like I have a better choice. Wait, IknowI don’t have a better choice. Stephan’s trust fund will cover Matty’s surgery, but it’s not nearly enough to also cover post-op, recovery, physical therapy, and everything else that follows. My boy has a long journey ahead and I need to make sure he reaches his destination.
“Code Blue, Momma!” Matty gasps and starts wheezing.
His little face turns white, then blue, as he gives me a scared look. We’ve been through this so many times, yet it never stops terrifying me. I scramble through the medicine drawer again, grabbing his inhaler.
“What’s happening?” Carter frowns as he looks between Matty and me.
“He’s having an asthma attack; he needs his inhaler!”
My hands are shaking so badly, I drop the nebulizer.
They weren’t supposed to be here, they weren’t supposed to see this. Dammit, it’s out of control, and I’m panicking at the worst possible moment.
Carter jumps out of his seat. I retrieve the inhaler, but I can’t get the safety cap off. The panic hits at the worst possible time, but as soon as Carter covers my hands with his, I find a sense of calm.
“Breathe,” he says in a soft voice.
Jace catches Matty before he falls out of his chair and helps him lay down on the floor. I look up at Carter.
“I’ve got this,” he says, then snatches the inhaler away.
“Wait, what are you?—”
“I know what I’m doing; relax,” he cuts me off and goes over to Matty, gently helping him recover his breath.
I’m left standing there, stunned by the sight before me. With calm and precision, Carter assists my child,ourchild. It’s like he knew instinctively what to do. He’s in perfect control, talking to Matty, helping him calm down.
“Deep breath, kiddo; look at me,” he says.
Damon inches closer to my side. “Do these happen often?”
“Usually every other day, sometimes twice in a single day. It depends on his stressors,” I tell him, sifting through the drawer for the follow-up treatment. Soon enough, my boy is breathing easier, the color returning to his cheeks.
I scoop him up in my arms and hold him close to my chest, a tear rolling down my cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I whisper in Matty’s hair. “I think I panicked.”
“It’s okay, Momma. I love you,” Matty manages.
“I love you, too.”
“Thank you,” I whisper to Carter.
A muscle twitches furiously in his jaw as he looks at me, then at Matty. “Don’t mention it.”
“How did you know what to do?” Jace asks him.
