Finding Sadie (Los Rancheros #0.5) (8 page)
Read Finding Sadie (Los Rancheros #0.5) Online
Authors: Brandace Morrow
It’s been almost two months since I started going to the cancer ward. I’ve met the most remarkable human beings in the world. After I put my conviction behind it that day in the bathroom, I got to know the nurses and doctors. I got to know the parents and patients. I got to know me, too, along the way.
We’ve lost kids—beautiful, smart, tired little souls who never reached adulthood. We’ve seen the miracle that is remission, and held parties in the great room for the kids who have a chance to grow their hair back. And we’ve made them smile. Every single one.
Now it’s Christmas, and I make Batty dress as Santa —under duress— in the dead of night to bring in the presents that Jayden picked out.
“I don’t know why you had to wrap all of them by hand. We could have had someone at the toy store do all of this shit,” Batty Santa grumbles under his beard. Is it weird that I want to fuck him in that suit? Maybe it’s weird.
That hasn’t stopped. The night of our first fight —of which there have been many— and the sex against my car, I fully expected him to just go home, and I froze outside of those elevators. He obviously knew I had a car. He knew I didn’t need a ride. Was that our code now? Halfway to his car, he turned, his cape catching wind and flaring out behind him. “You coming?” And yes, yes I did. Every fucking Sunday. That’s what I called them now. Fucking Sundays. Best day of the week.
“They have to be hand wrapped. These presents were selected, not picked out by some worker bee. Jayden wanted them to have them, so I wrapped every fucking one, and don’t you look at me like that, Batty Santa.”
He scoffs and licks his lips. The ones I can barely see behind all of the white, but I know that tongue. “It’s those striped tights. Are they thigh highs or do I need to rip something later?”
Stupid Moorehead and their elf costumes. I was still against being on their logos, but the sparkle in Batty Santa’s eyes were promising me more than candy canes and popcorn at the end of the work day. And I was so down with that.
“Set this shit up,” I order him, knowing he’ll only do it if he wants to.
We make several trips back and forth to the van I had to rent to get everything here. When a kid peeks out of their room and spots us, I run to their side to hand them small packages. Most of the kids are on chemo, and I’ve learned that, like Rachel, they can’t eat anything solid for periods of time. Their mouths and stomachs hurt so bad they have to be on morphine.
No candy for this lot, but the presents look to be overtaking the room. The nurses and doctors come out to chat as we wait for the kids to wake up. Parents add their presents under the tree or take them straight to the rooms. I make sure the caterers bring in the food to the break room through the back entrance so the kids can’t see the things they can’t have.
“Stop it.”
I look to Batty Santa and quickly sit on his knee to keep from fidgeting. “When will these kids wake up? It’s already seven.”
“You’re cute when you’re excited,” he says with a smile.
I smirk. “You should know.”
“Mmm. It’s going to be a long day. Don’t start.” He squeezes my waist, then belies his words. “What do you want for Christmas, little girl?”
I bat my lashes and say in a breathy voice, “Well, Batty Santa . . .”
“Don’t call me that. It sounds like Daddy Santa.”
I lower my chin and snap his white beard. “Do you want to be Daddy Santa?”
He rolls his eyes under his hat. “I’m thirty-one. Not old enough to be your daddy, you kinky little shit.”
I gasp and cover my mouth. “You’re so old.” I pat his padded chest. “But don’t worry, your balls aren’t very wrinkly yet.”
“Stop talking.”
“But it’s Christmas, Batty Santa!”
“Shut your face before I put them in your mouth.”
“Promises, promises,” I say, movement catching my eye before I finish the sentence. It’s Chloe. I burst off of Batty Santa’s lap. “Merry Christmas!”
When all of the kids trickle in over the morning, we find their presents and are rewarded with smiles and rosy cheeks. There are several that aren’t marked for the kids that are yet to come in, but all say from Santa and Jayden. Sweet Jayden passed just days before the holiday, but had been back several times on the Sundays we visited before that. He never stopped talking about his takedown at the toy store, always with a smile on his face. He, more than anything kept me coming back, even after he was gone. Our night together in the toy store gave him one moment to relive when he was too weak to get out of bed.
There were more escapades, more shenanigans—that I pulled off by the skin of my teeth—more memories for these who wouldn’t get to make them without us.
I crawl around to make sure we got all of the kids who were present, when I find one addressed to me. I triple check it but it still says Sadie/Robin. Can’t mistake that. I look around to the few who are still in the room and find Batty Santa’s eyes on me with a little smile on his face.
I stand up and walk to him, holding up the present. “Did you do this?” He shrugs.
When was the last time I got a Christmas present? I remember it exactly. My Gran gave me a tea set.
I open the paper delicately. With the precise folds, I expect that if he did do this, he had someone else wrap it.
I place the paper on the floor and stare at the brown box. Batty Santa raises his eyebrows when I look up at him again. Pulling the tape, I see bubble wrap inside. It’s several somethings. I unwrap one in my hand and almost drop it. I gasp, tears flood my eyes. One perfect hand painted china cup rests in my hands. My hands shake, frozen, but my eyes move to the wrapping again. The sticker reads To: Sadie/Robin From: Batty and Rachel.
There was a wardrobe change into our regular Sunday costumes in the back of the van. I’m sure that van was rocking for some time, but luckily for us, we park on the third floor.
We meet outside of the bathrooms silently moving to where we’re expected to be. We exclaim and play with the new toys for hours when I feel vibrating from my phone in my back pocket. I excuse myself from a makeshift maternity ward we made for the new dolls, laughing as I pull my phone out. It quickly disappears.
Unknown Caller: Time’s up. Brennick Record, tomorrow 10 sharp.
Brandace Morrow is a full time mom of four, and currently stationed overseas with her sexy soldier. Her recent obsessions are Maroon 5, Luke Bryan, The Pretty Reckless, rum and coke, and reading, in no particular order. Despite being terribly awkward with social media, she's everywhere. Frequently subjecting the public to pictures of her minion's messes, and everything that is Momdom in the Morrow house.
Don’t miss out on Sadie’s Story!
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/authorbrandacemorrow
Twitter:
www.twitter.com/brandacemorrow
Instagram:
www.instagram.com/brandacemorrow
Pinterest:
www.pinterest.com/brandacemorrow/
Goodreads:
www.goodreads.com/author/show/7740187.Brandace_Morrow
Email:
mailto:[email protected]