by Radclyffe
And now?
Blaise had a past with her brother Grady could barely comprehend, but one thing was clear. Blaise didn’t want Gavin to know anything about Taylor, and Grady was a threat to the secret she’d kept all these years.
* * *
Blaise slowed on the porch just long enough to slide into her shoes, then hurried down the stairs and toward the corner. She needed to get away from Grady’s apartment, away from Grady. And how was she going to do that, when they not only worked in the same hospital but interacted almost daily in the ER? Not to mention the likelihood of running into her almost everywhere—on the street, at a friend’s, at local events. She couldn’t very well pretend she didn’t know her, not after today.
She couldn’t think about this morning now. She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to keep her life from careening off the careful course she’d plotted.
All right then. If she couldn’t physically distance herself from Grady, she would have to close all the other doors that might let her back into her life. The door that had opened into her heart. Into her body. Into her dreams. All the doors Grady had swung wide with effortless ease. Methodically, she began closing them, and with each resounding thud, her heart ached a little more.
When she reached the corner of her street, she turned in the opposite direction, not even realizing she had until she’d gone several blocks. But of course, there was only one place she could go to avoid the screaming silence of her empty house and the memories, old and new, crowding in on her.
She rapped on the screen door. “Abby?”
A moment later, Abby appeared in a T-shirt and sweatpants, barefoot, with a book in her hand and one finger holding the place. “Hey. I didn’t think I’d see you.”
“I probably should have texted—”
“Why? Blake’s at school and Flann’s in the OR. We’re the ones with the day off. Come on in.” She pulled the door open to let Blaise enter. “I was just thinking about—what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Blaise slipped by her, keeping her head down so Abby wouldn’t see her face. “I just need some company.”
“Well, that’s okay for starters.” Abby slid an arm around Blaise’s waist and walked her back toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten today?”
Blaise shook her head.
“Okay. That’s the first order of business, then. Sit.” She guided Blaise to a stool and put water on for tea. “You look nice, by the way. Those don’t look like out-for-a-walk clothes.”
“I wasn’t planning on going for a walk. I just ended up here—a horse returning to the barn out of habit.” Suspecting she sounded just a little bit crazy—she certainly felt that way—she waved a hand. “Never mind me.”
“Mm-hmm.” Abby opened the fridge and piled food on the counter. “We’re in between breakfast and lunch, so how about soup and salad?”
“I don’t think I can eat.”
“No, you probably don’t think so, but you need to.”
“Yes, all right.” Knowing better than to argue with Abby, and too exhausted in mind and spirit to protest anyhow, Blaise folded her hands on the island separating the prep area from the rest of the kitchen. For the first few years after Taylor’d been born, she’d worried what might happen if Gavin somehow took an interest in her, although she couldn’t imagine why he would. He barely knew Blaise, after all, and probably never gave her another thought after their last brief conversation. But Gavin’s family was powerful and wealthy, and she had no idea what they might say or do or want when they discovered—if they discovered—Gavin had a child.
But he didn’t. Taylor was no child of his, whether he’d sired her or not. Taylor was her child. And she’d vowed before she was even born she would raise her without the specter of a distant, powerful family that might want something from her they didn’t deserve. If and when Taylor had wanted to know about her birth circumstances, she would have told her. But that was a far cry from announcing Taylor’s existence to a family a world away in more ways than one.
Abby slid the tea in a blue ceramic mug with a bright yellow chicken adorning it over to her. “Here. Drink some of that.”
Blaise wrapped her hands around the mug, wondering why she was so cold. It wasn’t cold out, was it?
Abby came around and sat beside her. “Something’s happened. You need to tell me what it is.”
Blaise swallowed. Stared at her tea. “I can’t.”
“Did you see Grady after work this morning?”
Blaise nodded. “I just came from her apartment.”
“Did Grady do something?”
Blaise started to shake her head, then caught herself. She’d had enough of pushing the truth aside, even if the truth, contrary to all the songs, would never set her free. “Oh, she did. She brought out a side of myself I’d never seen before. Unleashed something in me,” she said with a bitter laugh, “that I’d thought was gone years ago.”
“And that was scary?” Abby murmured.
“No,” Blaise said, hearing the flatness in her own voice. “Not scary. Amazing. Liberating.”
“Then something else must’ve happened. Did she hurt you in some way?”
Blaise met Abby’s gaze. “No. I was the one who did the hurting.”
Abby squeezed her arm. “You’re going to have some soup, and then you’re going to tell me how.”
Today seemed to be a day for confessions, or maybe she just didn’t have the strength to rebuild her defenses fast enough. Leaving Grady after what they’d shared, after the awakening she experienced on every level with her—because of her—had shattered her.
She told Abby, and as she spoke, Abby shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her. When she finished, her head rested against Abby’s shoulder. Abby smelled like a comforting blend of chamomile and roses, and right now, her warmth was exactly what Blaise craved.
“I didn’t handle things very well when I found out,” Blaise murmured. “None of this is Grady’s fault.”
“Nor is it yours,” Abby said. “Do you really want to stop seeing her, Blaise?”
“I could hardly ask her to keep this a secret if we were together.”
She hadn’t answered Abby’s question, and Abby, friend that she was, didn’t ask again.
Chapter Twenty-four
Grady didn’t turn from her open locker when the hall door opened and closed and footsteps approached behind her. She shucked her scrub shirt and reached for her running shirt. The surgeons’ locker room was coed and adjoined the rest of the OR locker room through an open archway. She hadn’t really paid much attention to the little bit of solitude the separate changing areas afforded until she’d taken to avoiding Blaise. Now she appreciated it. The last thing she wanted was to make small talk with Blaise in front of an audience or pretend she didn’t notice—or care—when she was half undressed.
“How’d the case go?” Flann asked.
The tension in Grady’s shoulders eased. Flann. A friend. Really, the only one she had in her new life, and when she thought back over the last ten years, maybe the only one then too. She probably needed one right about now, but she wasn’t sure where to start—or what she could say that wouldn’t jeopardize Blaise’s privacy. And trust. The last two weeks had been some of the darkest she could recall. Fortunately, there was always work to be done, and work had always been her go-to solace. Since she didn’t care much for drinking her troubles away and didn’t use casual sex as a panacea for fatigue or loneliness, she’d started haunting the ER whenever she knew Blaise wasn’t there. The other surgeons were easy about sharing the workload, especially since there was always plenty to go around. Usually on the night shift, or late afternoons when the ORs were running full tilt, having another surgeon to pick up an emergency case was always welcome. When she was working, lost in the landscape of flesh and blood with the dictate to heal, she didn’t have to think about the hollow ache in her chest that never went away, a space Blaise had filled with hope and promise, or the sadness when she thought of
her brother—the one person she’d always admired and wanted to emulate. Now she faced the harsh truth that she didn’t know Gavin, and she never would have wanted to follow in his footsteps, family legacy be damned.
But she was here now—in a life she had chosen, against all the arguments from her father to the contrary. Because Flann Rivers had shown her a different picture of what her future could be. Just like Blaise.
“I haven’t seen a perforated ulcer in a long time,” Grady said as nonchalantly as she could. “Another one of those diseases the medical guys have found a way to fix that doesn’t require us anymore. Gastric surgery used to be a staple, and now, we’re lucky when we get one.”
“Well, he was lucky you were around,” Flann said, opening her locker, “and that you got him up to the OR so fast. Perfs can be nasty.”
“He should be fine. Not much contamination. I did a Roux-en-Y bypass. He’ll have to make a little adjustment with his diet, and he’s got to take his meds.” Grady exchanged her scrub pants for running tights. “Hopefully he will.”
“I suspect his wife will see to that,” Flann said.
“It always helps when family’s on your side.” Grady couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. Every time anything reminded her of her family, she thought of Gavin. And Blaise. Blaise had to make a go of it alone, as near as she could figure out, with a young child and probably not much in the way of means. What had Blaise said? She’d gone to school part-time to finish her nursing degree while Taylor was a toddler. Blaise had to scrape by while the father of her child had more money than he knew what to do with. Like Grady. Like the family that should have been looking after her, helping. She was embarrassed. More than embarrassed, ashamed. Of Gavin, of what her family represented.
“I get the feeling,” Flann said quietly, “you’re not exactly happy here. If this job’s not what you were thinking it would be—”
Grady stopped what she was doing and met Flann’s direct gaze. “No, you’re wrong about that.” She scanned the locker room and through into the adjoining staff area to be sure they were alone. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Nowhere in your contract does it say you need to work twenty-four hours a day, Grady.”
“Must be in yours, then,” Grady said lightly. No one, with the possible exception of Flann’s sister Harper, spent more time in the hospital. Abby Remy was a close second.
“I get restless,” Flann said, a soft smile that Grady rarely saw crossing her face. “When I do, Abby sends me off to make rounds or check the board in the ER for anything waiting in the wings for a surgical consult.”
“Smart woman.”
“More than I deserve,” Flann muttered. “I’m not going to tell you how to balance your work and the rest of your life, but if there’s a problem, you’ll let me know.”
Grady blew out a breath. “I appreciate your concern. I’m fine.”
“Right,” Flann said, clapping Grady on the shoulder. “All right then. See you at M and M later today.”
“Right, thanks, Chief.”
Flann laughed, grabbed her lab coat, and strode out.
Grady sat to lace up her running shoes. She had an hour free, so she’d run. Running was about the only other thing that kept her from thinking too much. The rhythm of her feet pounding the pavement, the breath coursing in and out of her chest, the air rushing over her sweat-slick skin, brought her the only peace she experienced since those few minutes when she’d awakened with Blaise in her arms, Blaise’s hand curled between her breasts, and Blaise’s head on her shoulder. So supremely right. The sweetness of the memory, the intensity of every second they’d shared, left her reeling with loss.
She hurried from the locker room, took the stairs down to the exit two at a time, and ran.
* * *
“Hey,” Flann said, checking the hall to see if they were alone before kissing Abby on the cheek. “How’s your morning?”
Abby cupped Flann’s cheek and brushed her thumb over the corner of Flann’s mouth. “Steady, but nothing for you, Tiger.”
“Well, there’s always hope.”
Abby laughed. “Join me for coffee?”
“Sure.”
Flann followed her down the hall to the break room, leaning against the counter as Abby poured them what looked to be fresh coffee, for which she gave fervent thanks.
“Something bothering you?” Abby asked over her shoulder.
“Not really,” she said.
“Not really but maybe?” Abby said.
“I talked to Grady.” Flann sighed. “She’s not talking.”
Abby turned slowly, held out a cup of coffee. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t interfere.”
“I didn’t reveal any confidences, especially since I don’t know any. You suggested I keep an eye on her, and I am.” Flann sipped the coffee. Something involving Grady had Abby stressed out, but she’d refused to discuss specifics, saying only Grady might be having a tough time. Whatever the hell that meant. Although she could guess. Grady was too solid to be having problems with work, and she’d just said she was happy at the Rivers. So—personal. And if Abby knew about it, then the choices were limited. She’d seen Abby’s best friend Blaise Richelieu with Grady at the bakery, and talking at the game, and at the party at the Homestead. And casually chatting in the ER quite a few times after that. But not recently. Rocket science this wasn’t.
Abby rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I can’t really tell you anything, and—”
“And Blaise is your best friend, and best friends trump spouses sometimes.”
“That’s pretty smart of you. I’m not going to ask how you came to the conclusion Blaise is involved, but I appreciate you understanding.”
“As long as nothing’s going on that will impair Grady’s ability to do her job, I’m happy to stay on the sidelines.”
“Does a broken heart count?” Abby asked quietly.
“Sometimes it can.” Flann set her cup on the counter, cupped Abby’s chin, and kissed her, slowly and tenderly. “I’m not sure I could manage without you.”
Abby threaded her arms around Flann’s waist. “Well then, there’s one thing you do not need to worry about. Because you will never have to.”
Flann held her close for second, as tightly as she could, and stepped back before they had an audience. “Grady is okay. Okay meaning she’s working too much, probably eating like crap, and running her ass off trying to pretend she’s not hurting. So if you’ve got a solution to it, I think you should get moving on it.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Flann said.
“I love you,” Abby said. “Now I have to get back to work, and so do you.”
“Just one more kiss,” Flann murmured.
Laughing, Abby complied.
* * *
Blaise finally forced her legs to move and backed away down the hall. She’d almost walked in on Flann and Abby, and they wouldn’t have minded, but when she’d heard Grady’s name, an invisible wall had crashed down in front of her, halting her in her tracks. The rest of Flann’s words burned through her as if written in fire.
She’s working too much, probably eating like crap, and running her ass off trying to pretend she’s not hurting.
Flann could have been talking about her. Add to it, tired beyond exhaustion but unable to sleep, weary in heart and soul, and ineffably sad. She’d tried running, which only freed her mind of all the mundane responsibilities that usually occupied her and left her thinking of Grady. Grady moved her in the way she’d always dreamed of being moved, touched her in the ways she’d always fantasized about being touched, and listened and laughed and made her laugh. And then she’d not only lost her, she’d hurt her. Hurt her with a truth that wasn’t Grady’s to own, an obligation that wasn’t hers to shoulder, but Grady would want to all the same. Because that’s the kind of woman she was.
Gavin—and Grady—McClure came from an
old, super-rich line of doctors, politicians, and philanthropists who’d endowed universities, established international charities, and held high political office. An illegitimate child born to the heir apparent would be enough of a scandal to make a splash. She would not subject her daughter to that, and she refused to pull Grady any deeper into a drama not of her making. They were both far, far too important to her.
Grady would heal and move on, and she would go on as she had before Grady seduced her—in the best possible way—into a glimpse of what love looked like.
Chapter Twenty-five
Another week of slow torture passed for Grady, another seven nights of broken sleep, long runs, and losing efforts at not thinking about Blaise. She thought a lot about Gavin, though, about what he deserved to know, what he ought to be held accountable for. Twice she’d started to text him, and twice she’d stopped. He was her brother, no matter they had different mothers, but in this story—Blaise’s story—he was just a man. One who had turned his back on what was right and honorable. She wasn’t walking in Gavin’s footsteps now, and never would again. Now she traveled her own path, one Blaise had helped her find.
When she popped into the cafeteria a little after ten on a Thursday night to grab a bite after a case, she caught sight of Blaise at a corner table, eating alone. She didn’t think about what was smart, or right, or foolish. All she saw was Blaise.
She crossed to her like a ship navigating a stormy sea by the light of a distant bright beacon. “Can I sit down?”
Blaise looked up, her eyes shadowed with fatigue or something far more bruising. Her smile was wistful. “Of course.”
Grady dropped into a chair. Tired as she was, her heart lifted. “How are you?”
“Honestly?” Blaise said.
Grady chuckled. “I don’t think you know how to be anything but.”
