Free Finding Sadie (Los Rancheros #0.5) by Brandace Morrow Page B

sound of my car ticking as it cools down.  Was the hood hot?  I don’t even remember.
    I lick my dry lips, pulling my jeans up from around my knees.  He hands me my mask before putting his back on.  I bend on shaky legs to grab my purse from the floor and look for my keys.
    “Where the fuck are you going?” he asks me.  I look up, meeting his eyes.
    “I just came to chew you out.  Now I’m out.”
    He chuckles darkly, grabbing my neck and pulling me toward the elevators.  “Oh, no.  You’re going to go in there and make those kids smile.”
    I stop in my heels that feel too high at the moment.  “No, I’m not.”
    His hand fists in the back of my hair, his face getting close to mine as he says softly, “Yes you are.  Whether you like it or not, you’re a part of the routine now.  They’ll be looking forward to seeing you.  So you’re going.”
    He propels me into the open doors and I glare at him.  “You need to stop putting your hands on me,” I warn him.
    He advances so fast I crash into the wall as I retreat.  “You really want me to stop?  Is that what you want, Sadie?  Cause I’ll fucking stop putting my hands on you when you stop looking at me like that.”
    Stupid eyes, what are you telling him?   I think stupidly.
    “I’m trying really hard not to slap you right now,” I growl. 
    He smirks and looks at the doors.  “One day you will.  But it won’t be today.”
    I know he’s not said anything more truthful to me than those four words.  One day you will.
    I both dread and look forward to that day, when I can see his cheek flare with red.
    When the doors open, he leads me to the restrooms.  “Go get freshened up, we’re late.”
    When I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I can only stare.  My pretty sleek hair, sans grease, is wild and wet around my neck.  My hands are dusty from the cement, so I wash them first, then double over, almost going all the way to the floor as my leg muscles protest.  I wrap my hair into a huge knot on my head, then take a scratchy paper towel to my face. 
    I don’t realize there’s someone else in the room with me until I hear the flush.  An old woman walks out, her face breaking into a huge smile when she sees me.
    “Well my lands, child!”  She walks to the sinks and soaps up.  “I’ve heard so much about Batman and Robin from my Marcus.”  She shakes her head.  “He so looks forward to Sundays.”
    I swallow and shift my feet.  “Is he in the Oncology unit?”
    Her eyes go sad as she dries her hands.  “Oh, yes.”  She sighs and gives me another smile.  “But you make them smile.  And it’s not the where that it happens.  It’s the fact that it does.”
    When we exit that bathroom, Batty’s eyes go back and forth between the old lady and me.  “You ready?”
    I nod.  He keeps watching me, all the way up to the pediatrics ward.  Finally I can’t stand it.  “What?”
    “Something happened,” he says as we hand over our IDs and sign in, his still illegible.
    I slap the pen down and look up.  “Let’s go make them smile.”

 
     
     
     
    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