Freeing Reese (Tremont Lodge Series Book 3) by Marcy Blesy Read Free Book Online Page B

way, but, nonetheless, they all make it down, and the sea of colored winter gear makes the mountain look like a large, animated Christmas card. Merry Christmas, Reese. The dinging of the elevator snaps me back to reality. Ted is going to be so pissed to see me standing, uninvited, in his living room.
    “What are you doing here?”
    Lawson. “Are you following me?” I ask.
    “I’m not following you. How the hell was I supposed to know that you were in Ted’s living room?”
    “Well, then what are you doing here then?”
    “I’d like to ask you the same thing.”
    “I think we’ve had this conversation before,” I say, recalling our discussion outside Ted’s office the day he threw Georgia out. At least this time I don’t smell alcohol. “Anyway, I’m here to give Ted a Christmas present.”
    Lawson looks at my hands. “I don’t see any present.”
    “It’s…it’s not in a box. Geez…is this an interrogation?”
    A loud sound, like something heavy hitting the floor, comes from down the hall. “What the hell was that?” he asks.
    I just look at him like, Really? Do I look like a psychic?
    Another thud sends Lawson running down the hallway with me close behind.
    “Is that Ted’s bedroom?” I ask, stopping behind Lawson as he prepares to open a door at the end of the hall.
    Lawson shakes his head yes . He turns the knob. Ted is sprawled on the floor, a bedside lamp lying next to him, still glowing. “Ted!” I rush to his side.
    “Check his pulse!” yells Lawson.
    I grab Ted’s wrist and try to remember my Girl Scout training as I feel for his pulse on his wrist. “He has a pulse, but it’s weak. Call 911.”
    Lawson is already a step ahead of me. He’s describing the scene to the operator as I lean closer to Ted to make sure his chest is rising and falling. It startles me when Ted reaches out and grabs hold of my hand.
    “Someone did it.”
    It’s so faint I barely hear him. “What was that, Ted? It’s going to be alright. Help is on the way. Don’t try to speak.” I touch his arm in a show of comfort, but he tenses upon my touch and beckons me closer with his hand, his breathing now becoming labored.
    “Someone…gave me something.”
    “Who, Ted? Who gave you something?” I ask.
    Lawson drops to the floor, grabbing hold of Ted’s other arm, both of us dropping our petty arguments in order to help this man we both care about. It dawns on me that this may be the first time I’ve realized how much losing Ted would affect me. “What’s he saying?” he asks.
    “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense—something about someone giving him something, someone doing something for him. I don’t know. Is there a package on the bed or something?”
    Lawson stands up and looks at the bed, brushing the sheets. “I don’t see any package. I need to open the elevator for the paramedics. Are you okay in here?” I shake my head yes, and I wipe away the stray tear that slides down my face. “It’s going to be okay, Reese. Ted is going to make it.” He squeezes my shoulder and gives me a faint smile. I think it’s the nicest thing Lawson has ever done for me.
    A few minutes more, and the paramedics are entering the room. I stand up to get out of the way, but Ted grabs hold of my ankle, which startles me. He points to the nightstand, his arms flailing as if it takes every bit of effort for him to keep his arm in the air long enough for me to understand what he’s trying to tell me. I look toward where he points. On the nightstand are a couple of books, a self-help book about making amends—nice touch—a pair of reading glasses, and a nondescript brown coffee mug, like something a child might have made. I look inside to find that most of the contents are gone. The paramedics strap on an oxygen mask before Ted can say anything more. “You can join us at the hospital if you’d like to,” one of the paramedics says as they wheel Ted down the hall toward the elevator.
    “Do you think you