My Calling

By Lyssa Layne

Fresh out of paramedic school, Saylor Warner can't wait to start saving lives. At sixteen, she watched the man who raised her be gunned down while she stood by, unable to do anything except shed tears and watch her uncle die. It's taken her six years to be able to fulfill her calling of helping others but the day has finally arrived and she's anxious to get started. 

Jonathan "Beck" Beckerdyte isn't exactly what you'd call a people person. He's spent the last six years trying to stay out of the public eye but now, his calling has led him into the field of civil service. Less than excited about his new job riding in a rig all day and attending to medical emergencies, Beck deals with it because he's made it his mission to watch over Saylor Warner… except Saylor doesn't know that.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lyssa Layne
• Release date: Feb 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386089117

Book preview

Chapter 1

Saylor

Big, pouty duck lips face me in the mirror as I smear on my bright red lipstick. Some people might think it’s too loud as my ex-boss would say but I think it’s just perfect. It shows the world that I’m not afraid to stand out and that a little pop of color can go a long way. I roll my lips together, making sure the lipstick is perfectly spread. Satisfied with my effort, I make a loud pop with my lips when I think the color is evenly distributed. Smiling at my reflection, I give myself a wink.

Perfect, Say, I mutter and pick up my mascara.

If my uncle succeeded in one thing while raising me, it was that he made darn sure that I was confident. It doesn’t matter the situation, I could be asking for chocolate sauce on my French fries, my guilty pleasure, or an extension to pay my rent, and I’ll hold my head up, be bold, and ask whatever it may be. Most of the time it’s a trait that is a blessing but it’s also caused me to be a bit fearless which may have found me in a few slightly precarious situations. However, nothing has ever resulted from those almost-dangerous situations and I’d like to think it’s because my Uncle Eddie taught me how to handle anything that’s thrown at me.

A couple swipes of the mascara brush, a thick stroke of eyeliner, and then I’m just left to work with my eyebrow pencil. I know, it’s a contradiction of being confident and hiding beneath layers of makeup, right? Well, I grew up covered in grease and oil from my uncle’s auto shop and I’ve spent the last couple years making up for it by actually being girly from everything from makeup to lace thongs to high heels for grocery shopping. And maybe makeup is also a way for me to cover up my past but that’s way too deep of a thought for today.

I lean forward toward the mirror, my mouth hanging open as I use the pencil to fill in my eyebrows. My stomach flutters in anticipation of what today is going to bring. I’ve been waiting for this new beginning for almost six years and in about an hour, the wait will be over. I throw the pencil back in the makeup bag, take one more look in the mirror, and give a sideways smile at my handiwork.

Now, it’s on to my hair. Picking up my flatiron, I run it through my blonde hair a few times but this task is much less mundane than drawing on my face. Nerves are starting to creep up on me, distracting me from what I’m doing until pain sears through my fingertip.

Fudgesicle!

I stick my finger in my mouth, sucking on the burn and then stop. I’m starting as a paramedic at South Bay Ambulance District today. What kind of paramedic burns herself then sticks her finger in her mouth to treat it? Come on, Saylor, get in the mindset! Running cold water, I move my finger under the stream, letting the coolness take the burning sensation away.

Don’t say a word, I warn him, laughing as I do. I’m just nervous. Ever since tenth grade and well, you know... I’ve wanted this. I want to help people. I want to save lives. I want to do everything you raised me to do.

I pause, waiting for him to answer, but I get no response. I turn the water off and pat my finger dry. Glancing into the mirror again, I sigh. Half my hair is straightened while the other half is a frizzy mess. Looking at my phone, I note that I have about ten minutes before I need to leave so I’m not late. I grab a few bobby pins, pulling back half my hair and clasp it in place. Fluffing the bottom half, I shrug, it’ll have to do.

I run my fingers over the freshly pressed, light blue uniform until they touch the SBAD badge on the arm. I break out in a grin, suddenly giddy, because today is the day I start living my dream. Grabbing my backpack, I run out the front door, kissing my finger and placing it over the picture that sits on the table by the front door.

Wish me luck, Uncle Eddie! Today’s for you!

Beck

Dammit, Saylor, don’t make us late. Usually her perpetual tardiness is kind of cute, except when it involves me and today it does. She’s the one that wanted to be a paramedic so therefore I had to do the same because my life is dictated by Saylor Warner. I’m not a fan of this profession for many reasons but to list my top three, in no particular order, they would be one, I hate working with the public.

Two, I don’t do uniforms, yet here I am sitting in my old beat-up Ford F-150 in a baby blue button up shirt, a pair of BDU pants, and combat boots. To be fair, I don’t mind the combat boots but the fact that I’m wearing a long sleeve Under Armour shirt to cover up my tattoo sleeve is putting me in a pissier mood by the minute.

And lastly, my biggest peeve with Saylor working in this profession is it puts her face to face with any number of situations that I can’t always be prepared for and that, my friends, makes me want to punch my fist through a wall. 

I swear I’m not a violent person. Well, let me rephrase that. I’m not as violent of a person as I used to be. Back when I was a kid in my early twenties, I was kind of keen on the idea of making bad decisions. The worse they were, the better, but it eventually caught up to me which is why I’m sitting in the parking lot of South Bay Ambulance District headquarters, waiting to be reprimanded for being late to a job that I haven’t even started but already hate.

Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I look at my dashboard for the time once more. Three minutes before we’re late. Well, technically, we’re already late because an old mentor always taught me that if you’re early, you’re on time, if you’re on time, you’re late, and if you’re late then you’re in trouble. Granted, back in the day, I wouldn’t have minded trouble, but these days, my goal is to lay low and stay out of the limelight.

Whipping around the corner, Saylor’s neon green Mustang flies into the parking lot. She jerks the car into a tight parking space, not leaving much room for her to get out. I sigh, shaking my head and wishing she’d get a less flashy car but knowing there’s no way in hell Saylor will do that. Big and bright is what she loves, just take a look at her lipstick.

I open my door, stepping out into the sunlight and wincing at the brightness. I’m not a fan of early mornings but it looks like I’d better get used to it with my new job.

Across the lot, Saylor turns sideways to squeeze between her car and the Honda Civic less than a foot away from the Mustang. Saylor hoists her backpack on her shoulder. God only knows what all she crammed in that bag for a twelve-hour shift. If I had to guess, it would be anything loaded with sugar, a liter of Mountain Dew, and her Kindle filled with Rachelle Ayala novels. I can always tell which book of Ms. Ayala’s she’s finished based off what type of guy she’s on the prowl for. How the hell she stays so fit is beyond me because the woman survives on a diet of Mountain Dew and sugar. I wait for Saylor to get closer before I turn to walk toward the building myself.

Now, side by side with her, she looks at me, a smile on her lips as she nods toward the building. Come on! Don’t be late for the first day! she says and darts ahead of me, making sure she’s not the last one to clock in.

Clenching my jaw, I close my eyes and say a silent prayer. I may not be a religious man but I’m going to need something to get me through this.

Chapter 2

Beck

Smoke hangs thick in the air of the tiny bar directly across from the headquarters of South Bay Ambulance District and caddy corner from the South Bay Hospital. The irony isn’t lost on me that the place is filled with doctors, nurses, and paramedics who chastise their patients on the risks of smoking. Even more odd is the fact that smoking is banned almost everywhere in South Bay. Still, somehow the bar owner has an exception that I’d guessed was supported by some big bucks thanks to a few doctors that favor this establishment.

I really thought I’d be able to handle blood better. The redheaded paramedic chick looks like she might ralph just at the mention of the bodily fluid. I have a feeling she won’t be coming back for day two of her shift.

Saylor pats her hand. I’m sure it’ll get better, Annie, she says in her sympathetic tone that I hate.

Seriously, Saylor is always trying to be the positive cheerleader, helping everyone achieve their goals. Yeah, yeah, it’s endearing and all that shit, but I’ve seen it almost bite her in the ass a few too many times. Like the time a guy told her he’d lost his dog and asked Saylor to help her look for him. It seemed innocent enough except that I’d seen the guy arrive at the park, no dog in tow. The second Saylor was out of his sight, I stepped in and told the guy to get lost before I called the cops. It’s her nature to nurture but Saylor couldn’t tell a bad guy if he was wearing a hook for a hand.

Annie nods, showing her appreciation to Saylor for understanding her predicament. I stifle the urge to burst out laughing at the fact that Annie’s parents actually named her that. It’s not really that difficult to keep from laughing, I don’t do it frequently. Unlike Saylor who is now giggling hysterically at Calvin, a preppy boy with his hair slicked back... and his arm around her chair. I polish off my beer, setting it on the table and leaning forward so I can pay closer attention to the two of them.

Saylor elbows Calvin gently and shakes her head with a smile. Mr. Brown was not that bad, he was just a little confused on how many of the blue pills to take.

Calvin got paired up with Saylor and their first call of the day was Mr. Brown, an elderly gentleman who took one too many Viagras. I can’t say I’m sorry I missed that. Meanwhile, I was stuck with Annie who gagged every time she saw blood, which as one can imagine is quite often in this line of work. The entire day I spent cursing Saylor for getting me into this while wondering what she was doing. It’s an ugly game of hate-love with her, it always has been.

Too bad we didn’t get the chainsaw accident. I heard you kept your cool pretty well? Saylor looks directly at me with her piercing blue eyes as she asks me about my cool, making it clear that she’s not making a statement, but requesting affirmation. It’s her thing to end a statement with a question, she’s done it for as long as I’ve known her.

Shrugging, I stand up for a quick exit so I don’t get roped into the conversation and have to replay the entire situation. Poor Annie couldn’t handle it live so who knows what she’ll do if we have to relive it. While I see Saylor every day, I also make it a point to not talk to her.

Anyone need another drink? I nod toward the bar as I turn to make my getaway.

If you’re buying, I’ll take another Bud and how about another daiquiri for my partner? Calvin keeps his eyes on Saylor as he gives me his order. His finger runs down her cheek and Saylor giggles like a schoolgirl. I’m suddenly feeling like Annie and wanting to barf at his sickening display of flirting but Saylor is eating his shit up. When will she ever realize that she’s too good for guys like him?

Saylor

The grizzly, bearded medic who I ran into on my way to work disappears in the crowd to get more drinks. He guards his dark eyes, barely making eye contact, and refusing to say too much. There’s something mysterious about him and the fact that my big blue eyes and bright red pouty lips don’t draw him in kind of annoys me. Then there’s Calvin, he talks a lot, thinks he knows everything, and if he doesn’t watch his hand on my leg, he might have a few broken fingers before the night is over. All the men aside, I’m still flying high from my first day at work. The job was everything I expected and so much more.

Calvin’s breath is warm on my ear as he leans in close and whispers, What do you say we go back to my place after these drinks for a little first day celebration?

I almost gag at his beer breath but I force a smile. We’ll see.

His hand starts to travel north on my thigh and I jump up quickly. I sneak through the crowd until I find myself behind the broody paramedic. Tapping his shoulder, I wait for him to turn around. When he does, I smile at the look of shock on his face.

Virgin! I yell over the noise around us.

Bearded Man narrows his eyes. What? he shouts back.

Virgin! I repeat, pointing to the bar.

He shakes his head, still not comprehending what I’m saying. I take a step closer to him so he can hear me better. Lightly, I touch my hands to his shoulders so I can push up on my tippy toes to be closer to his ear. The second my hands touch him, his body tenses up and I narrow my eyes, confused at his response. Does this man, twice my size, seriously think I’m a threat to him?

I shake my head and repeat for a third time, Virgin.

The music stops and Bearded Man’s voice booms above the crowd as he finally understands what I’m saying. Virgin?

The people around us stop and stare while his face turns as red as a lobster beneath his beard. I begin to giggle, dropping my head against his chest but he quickly shrugs me off. The music starts up and he turns back to the bar. This time, I’m able to squeeze myself between him and the person beside him.

Make my drink a virgin, I explain, trying to control my laughter.

Yeah, I know, he mutters, waving his hand at the bartender.

Now it’s my turn to furrow my eyebrows. How did you know I don’t drink?

He hesitates then halfway glances at me before looking back to the bartender and placing our orders. His head still forward, he answers, I heard you order the first time. Virgin strawberry daiquiri.

My bright red lips are pursed together, pondering his observation skills when someone behind us shoves me into him. He moves his arm around my waist quickly but still doesn’t look in my direction. I reach up and take his chin in my fingers, turning his head toward me.

What’s your name?

His dark eyes finally take note of my