Mrs. Wozniak had been terrified of going to the hospital, convinced no one came out alive. But her appendix had to come out before it burst, and George had stayed to hold her hand until she was taken into surgery—because that’s who George was.
Selfless, kind, loved by everyone at Mom and Dad’s Place Senior Living Center, even if she didn’t know how loved she truly was.
And when she’d gotten the text from that dick Darren, asking if she’d remembered the cake she’d promised to bake, and Dexter had watched her go to the all-night market and pick up the ingredients with his fists clenched, ready to wallop dick-ish Darren when he wasn’t looking, he’d still stayed out of it.
Instead, he’d placed roadblocks in her way, and the opportunity to realize she was being taken advantage of, giving her the opportunity to right herself all on her own. But George was also, among many of the other attributes she possessed, stubborn as a mule.
She’d made a promise to Darren and she’d been determined to keep it, even at the cost of a good night’s sleep and her pride.
George never gave up, no matter how hard Dex tried to persuade her otherwise. And he’d done all the persuading. He’d made mental suggestions; he’d even made real-life suggestions directly to her face. All to almost no avail.
Dexter had been her friend and co-worker for ten months out of the year since he’d been charged with her “care and handling,” as the guys upstairs in the HR Department labeled it. They often had meals together. Sat in the atrium and had morning coffee on a break from Dex’s shift at the café located in the middle of the senior living compound, doing the job he’d taken as cover.
They’d become instant friends from the day he’d started working at the café. They had more in common than he’d ever had with another human or angel.
George thought he was gay, which almost made Dex’s job easier, and he didn’t tell her differently while trying his damnedest to stay emotionally uninvolved.
Rules or no rules, she was hard as hell not to get involved with.
Now, as Dex looked down at her limp body, lying against the curb in the harsh glow of the streetlight, her long dark hair shrouding her heart-shaped face, unharmed but unconscious, his instinct to scoop her up and cradle her close was almost agony to fend off.
But if Titus knew how Dex felt about her, he’d have a conniption fit to rival even the Great Heavenly Meltdown of 2016. Dex would lose his chance at ever getting his permanent wings back, because he’d be shipped back upstairs faster than he could say Touched By an Angel.
Rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek, Dex took another shot at a weak defense. “I didn’t mean to interfere. It was instinct, Titus. Pure instinct.”
Titus made a face before he crossed his arms across his massive chest and said, “You swooped in like Airforce One, Dex. Jumped right off that roof and snatched her up like you were snatching your dinner from the lake with feet of talons.”
That was true. He had swooped in and saved her. But again, in his defense, George had been so sad the entire week after she’d left Mrs. Wozniak in the hospital that he hadn’t been thinking about much beyond her emotional well-being.
She’d spent Christmas working to keep busy, but so sad it hurt to even look at her. Sad that Darren had dumped her and didn’t offer so much as a thank you for the beautiful cake she’d made.
Sad that she was alone on New Year’s Eve, let alone Christmas, one of the hardest days for the lonely to endure. A day when guardian angels have to find a way to help their assignments weather the stark loneliness, which is almost as hard.
George was simply sad to the marrow of her bones, and she’d had one more champagne cocktail than her alcohol tolerance level allowed at that stupid party.
As the New Year rang in, and everyone was kissing their partners in celebration, George had turned away from the happy crowd, tears filling her eyes, and she’d tripped over a bottle of Schlitz Malt Liquor, stumbled, then toppled right over the edge of the roof—and no one had paid any attention. Not even a little.
Except for him. Dex always paid attention. He’d watched her like a hawk from an adjacent rooftop, through the standing heat lamps and throng of festively dressed partygoers.
He’d watched in horror as George tumbled toward the sidewalk below, a look of pure terror on her face. Her bell-shaped jacket billowing behind her, her legs flailing, her mouth open in a silent scream. And he’d reacted, as a guardian angel does.
His feelings for her aside, Dex had summoned and unfurled his wings and soared downward after her without thinking twice. But after he’d scooped George up, only seconds before crashing against the unforgiving pavement, he’d clipped her shoulder with his wings.
Dexter looked to a disapproving Titus in semi-guilt. He knew what he’d done went against their rules for angels, but he was having trouble feeling particularly bad about it. George had a lot to give the world, if she’d only let herself. He wanted her to have the chance to do that.
“Like I said, it was instinctual, Titus,” he repeated woodenly.
Titus clucked his tongue in disappointed admonishment, snapping his fingers to make another lit cigarette appear. He took a deep drag and eyed Dexter.
“Well, instinct’s gonna get you stuck in receiving forevs, bud. You want a desk job, or do you want to be out here in the field?”
Duh. He wanted to be out in the field. He needed to be out in the field for reasons he couldn’t reveal, for fear he’d break more guardian angel rules.
He’d been trying to prove that for
