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Other books in the Series
Cops and Docs
Blurred Lines
Crossing Lines
Table of Contents
Other books in the Series Cops and Docs
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
About KD Williamson
Other Books from Ylva Publishing
Blurred Lines
In a Heartbeat
Flinging It
Four Steps
Coming from Ylva Publishing
Falling Hard
Under Parr
Dedication
To my Michelle, I may not be a romantic in real life, but loving you has opened my mind creatively. To MB, who always gives me the truth whether I like it or not; you are way too perky to exist. To my mother, I know you tried to teach me well, and it worked for the most part. My potty mouth isn’t your fault. I put the blame on Trump. Thanks to Ylva and Jove Belle who helped to make this happen.
Chapter 1
“You heard this story how many times now? Ain’t you tired of it?”
Instead of responding, Dr. Tonya Preston smiled softly. The leather chair groaned as she leaned back and continued to observe her client.
She and Oleta always started out this way. There would be a few more questions, a few more attempts at hedging the issue before they got to the meat of the situation. Oleta refused to look at her. Her gaze was frozen on some invisible point on the floor. Her hands trembled, and she tried to hide it by wringing them.
“You not fixin’ me. What kind of doctor are you? That medicine don’t work. Yah heard me?”
“Oleta, look at me.” It was Tonya’s turn to lead the dance.
Reluctantly, Oleta raised her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed and accusatory. “I know what you gone say.”
“Tell me.” Tonya’s tone was firm but coaxing.
Oleta pursed her lips, making the lines around her mouth more prominent. She looked all of her sixty-seven years plus a few extra. “It’s gone work when I’m ready fo it to.”
Tonya nodded.
“But I’m fine e’ry other day…e’ry other month. Don’t need ’em then.” Oleta looked away, as if trying to outrun the lie. “It’s been three years since I been back…seven since it happened. I ain’t weak.”
“No, nowhere near it,” Tonya agreed. But, as July rolled in, Oleta stopped sleeping. Then she stopped eating. It was a potent combination and marked the beginning of a depressive episode.
Oleta yanked the left leg of her pajamas up and pulled the tube sock up as far as it would go. Her fingers were gnarled, dry, and a little swollen, hinting at arthritis. She repeated the process, as if fortifying her armor before battle. Tonya watched patiently and hoped that one day Oleta would realize that they weren’t on opposite sides and that the war she envisioned was within herself.
“Yes, indeed. Look atcha. Some pretty mixed girl all rich and shit. You could pass fo white if you wanted. Whatchu know ’bout it? Whatchu know ’bout sufferin’ at all?”
Tonya didn’t take offense at the anger or the terseness in Oleta’s voice. “I only know what you’ve told me, but no, our experiences were not the same. I didn’t lose my home, and I had the ability to leave,” Tonya repeated for the third time in as many years.
Oleta started wringing her hands again, and the tremor increased. “I ain’t neva known my street to be quiet like it was that day. I was used to that stupid music and all kinds of racket.”
She glanced away, hands fisted, and when she looked back, there were tears in her eyes. Tonya took a deep breath and listened. She wondered how far they would get this time. This year.
“That water…roared like some kinda monster. It ate my baby and came for me. The devil is a liar and so is God.” Oleta’s chest started to heave, and her breathing hitched. “I was done livin’. She just started. Don’t make no sense.” She shook her head, and her tears fell in earnest. “Don’t make no damn sense.”
Oleta whispered the words over and over. She rediscovered that spot on the floor.
Tonya looked on for a little while longer, knowing that they’d hit a wall. Previously, Oleta had refused to give her granddaughter a name and avoided terms of endearment. That wasn’t the case anymore, so they’d made some progress. Tonya reached forward to touch Oleta’s knee. In turn, Oleta covered her hand and squeezed tightly.
It was only the second week of July, and there had already been several intakes. By the time the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina came around, there would be more.
She took her hand away and stood. “I’ll get Stephanie.”
Oleta didn’t acknowledge Tonya as she looked toward the door. The mental health tech stationed outside finally turned and peered through the glass. Tonya nodded. A few seconds later, he entered, and a woman in scrubs stepped in behind him. The nurse, Stephanie Chambers, smiled at Tonya. She gave a slight tilt of her head in return.
Stephanie glared, rolled her eyes, and gave her attention to their patient instead. “We ready to go, Mrs. Oleta?”
Tonya almost smiled. It was strange that after almost a year, Stephanie still got irritated by what she termed Tonya’s shield of professionalism. Yes, they were friends, but within these walls they functioned more as supervisor/supervisee, with well-defined boundaries. With three psychiatric nurses, four mental health techs, a social worker, twelve adult beds, and Tonya herself, they were in very close quarters during their shift, even though they had their own wing at Universal Hospital.
Oleta didn’t say anything, but she stood.
The mental health tech didn’t look at Tonya at all. He didn’t speak either. His demeanor was a direct result of the behavior she exhibited daily. Tonya’d heard the rumors about herself, thanks to Stephanie. Most thought she was uppity and unable to mix with the common, less educated folk. They were all dead wrong, of course. Still, everyone worked together to do their jobs and treated each patient with respect. That was the most important thing.
Tonya went back to her desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. She pulled out her handbag and headed into her private bathroom. With a critical eye, she gave herself the once-over. Soft pink lipstick complemented her lighter skin tone and accentuated the full curve of her lips. Oleta was right. She could pass for a tanned white person at first glance, not that she would ever try. That just wasn’t her thing. Tonya pushed the thought away. She’d always thought her nose was way too small for her face, especially with her glasses, which she rarely wore.
Unfortunately, today the glasses had been necessary as she was waiting on new contacts. Tonya wrinkled her nose in irritation, exposing a hint of dimples. She pulled the square black frames from her face and set them on the sink. She blinked and leaned closer to the mirror as she fiddled with her mass of professionally styled curls, natural just like her mother’s. Tonya’s appearance was immaculate,
cool and unruffled. Her clothing was an important part of the façade.
Tonya’s purse vibrated, which was unusual.
Call me when u get this.
She stared at the message for a couple seconds. Tracy didn’t usually text her while she was working, so there had to be something going on. “Here we go. Should be interesting.”
Her sister’s phone rang twice.
“Okay. Three things. Men suck. I’m bored because some of my classes are dry as hell no matter how the professors try to spin them, and I have some good news!” Tracy’s voice went up a couple of octaves.
Tonya blinked. “I’m going to ignore the first statement because you say that all the time.”
“Well, maybe I keep hoping that your comeback will be that women are the same. Give me some hope that the struggle is real, even for you.”
For a few seconds, Tonya was quiet, simply because she didn’t know what to say. Her sexuality wasn’t a secret from her family, but by unspoken agreement, it was something they didn’t discuss. Her father had never said the word lesbian. It didn’t feel right to even broach the topic with Tracy. Instead, Tonya side-stepped the subject. “What do you mean…even for me?”
Tracy scoffed, and Tonya could practically hear her eyes roll.
“Please, you’re hot, even in those yesteryear glasses, and just because you don’t talk about it, somebody has to be taking care of home base. It can’t stay dusty.”
Tonya’s mouth fell open. “What did you just say?”
Tracy groaned. “Jesus, thirty-six isn’t that damn old. Forget it. I know you know what I mean, so I’m letting it go.”
“I’m fine with that. Getting back on topic…” Tonya hesitated. “As far as I know, no one ever said getting a Master’s in Education was sexy, and should I be sitting down for the third thing?”
“Very cute and a little sloppy. I did say I was letting it go. Anyway, it’s way sexier than psychiatry. Easier to spell and not as messy.”
Tonya smiled slightly, thankful to escape further awkwardness. “I like my mess.” Besides, everyone else’s lives were a lot easier to deal with and a lot more interesting than her own.
“Yes, I know, and no, you don’t need to sit down. I pretty much got offered a job. If I want to teach, LSU will keep me on.”
That would be great if Tracy actually knew what she wanted to do. She’d gone from interest in the business world to school administration and now teaching. She was graduating in December, and she was still going back and forth. Tracy’s indecisiveness was frustrating, especially since Tonya was footing the bill for her tuition.
While Tonya had achieved career and financial success, Tracy had the type of wealth she truly coveted: personal freedom. Tonya couldn’t even fathom what that must feel like, and there were times when she really wanted to. A surge of jealousy uncoiled in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She didn’t want to antagonize her younger sister or seem unsupportive. Tonya chose her words carefully. “That was nice of them. You’ve obviously made an impression. Did you tell Daddy yet?”
“I tried, but he didn’t answer the phone. And you know he doesn’t text, so I’ll catch him later. But…what I just told you? It’s a good thing, right?” Tracy didn’t sound so sure.
“It is if you want it to be.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
Tonya choked back a sigh. “Just think about it. Visualize yourself in that profession and weigh your pros and cons.”
Tracy sighed loud enough for both of them. “That’s a Dr. Preston answer. I want to hear from Tonya.”
“I’m me. I don’t know what you mean.” Tonya did knew exactly what she meant, but sometimes faux obliviousness was easier.
“Fine,” Tracy said in an exasperated huff. “I’m going to celebrate my ass off no matter what.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Tonya’s voice sounded wooden to her own ears. “As long as somebody’s having fun,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What did you just say?” Tracy asked.
“I said it sounds like a plan.”
“Noooo, the second thing.”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”
Tracy grumbled. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later.”
Tonya didn’t get the chance to say good-bye. She tossed her cell back into her purse, glanced at herself in the mirror, and sighed. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t have said that.”
As she walked out of the bathroom, trying to push the conversation to the back of her mind, there was a knock at her office door. She slid into her chair and put her purse where it belonged, finally able to focus. The shield of professionalism slid firmly into place as the tech brought her next patient in.
Chapter 2
Haley filled her mouth with Captain Crunch. She stared at the TV as she watched the final few cut scenes in Mass Effect 3. She stopped mid-chew and leaned forward. Her eyes, dry from staring at the screen for so long, widened nonetheless. Haley’s heart did a little flip in her chest.
Commander Jordan Shepard was dead. This was FemShep. Her FemShep. Renegade all the way, and the ultimate goddamned badass. She’d built her over the span of three games, forging unforgettable friendships with her crew. Then there was Liara, Shep’s partner and lover throughout. She’d stayed faithful despite other romance possibilities, and this was her reward?
“What? Noo!” Haley’s voice was shrill and loud enough to wake the neighbors even though the central wall separating the double shotgun house was several inches thick.
She tossed the controller onto the coffee table kind of violently, not giving a damn if the thing shattered into a million pieces—the controller, not the table. All these months of waiting and hiding from spoilers got her here? If she’d known it was going to end this way, Haley could have saved thirty-nine bucks. She stared in disbelief and disgust as the way-too-upbeat music continued to play and the credits rolled. What the actual hell? Without thinking about the time, Haley reached for her cell phone. It was almost dead, but it had just enough juice in it to get by.
Nate Danvers’s name was right at the top of her most recent call list. He picked up at the beginning of the fifth ring.
“You…okay? Ever…everythin’ okay?” he slurred.
“Hell, no. I just finished it.”
“Wha? Finished…wha?”
“The game!” Haley was getting a little impatient. She didn’t mean to snap at him, but given the circumstances… “Wake up.” Haley heard the rustle of covers and a murmured voice.
“Jesus Christ! I just looked at the time. What is wrong with you?”
At least he sounded more alert. “I just finished Mass Effect 3. She dies! I can’t fuckin’ believe it!”
“Did you…did you just drop an f-bomb over this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Let me get this straight. It is 3:27 a.m. You’re not bleedin’, and no one is dead?” Nate was starting to sound a little teed off.
“Shep is.” Haley cleared her throat. Yeah, so maybe calling him hadn’t been such a good idea.
“A real person, Haley! This is what you did your whole day off?”
Well, when he said it like that, it sounded dysfunctional. “Yeah, so?”
Nate grumbled something, but it was muffled, as though he had turned away from the phone. “Jen wants to talk to you.”
Haley rolled her eyes. “No, tell her to go back to sleep.”
“Well, that’s kinda hard since you’re the one responsible for wakin’ us up.”
“I was upset.”
“Yeah, I gathered.” Jen’s tone was sarcastic. “You need to stop givin’ me the brush-off. Let me fix you up. There’s this one girl that would be right up—”
“No, you know I don’t do that relationship crap anymore.”
“But you do the video game crap?”
“Yes, no drama.”
“You don’t think callin’ us at 3:00 a.m. is drama? You need someone to help you join the real world,
and who said anythin’ about a relationship? Just add her to your list of fuckbuddies. Maybe she’ll end up first in line.”
Haley groaned. “I can take care of that myself, thank you. Whenever I want it.”
“Whenever I want it,” Jen repeated teasingly. “So the toned biceps and baby blues make you the cure for vaginal dryness.”
Haley chuckled. “I didn’t say it. You did.”
“You’re so sweet, but this gamin’ thing? We need to find you another hobby.”
“Your husband was into them too, back at Ole Miss, remember? Before you changed him,” Haley emphasized gleefully. She smiled, waiting.
“You mean…when he became an adult?”
Haley could almost see the smirk on Jen’s face.
“Is that what it’s called?”
“Uh-huh, yes, adulting.” Jen yawned. “Anyway. You warmin’ up to your partner yet?”
Haley switched gears. “Meh, he’s an offensive asshole who talks to me like I’m five.”
“It’s three thirty. Are you really havin’ a whole conversation? This can’t wait until the sun actually comes up?”
Jen sighed. “Did you hear him?”
“Yasss.”
“You okay now? Or are you goin’ to sit there in your underwear and cry into your cereal?”
“How did you—” It was a stupid question, but it came out anyway. “Yes, to both those things.” The world was just better without pants.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Why are you still talkin’?” Nate asked.
Haley laughed.
“Lunch later?” Jen asked.
“Hell no, I’ll probably be asleep. Did you forget I’ve been up since yesterday? I’m startin’ the night shift tonight for the next month.”
“Mmm, fun.”
“Yeah, really.”
“Nate will call you later.”
“Okay, goodnight.”
“Uh-huh. If I can’t get back to sleep, I’m callin’ you.”
“I’ll probably be up for a while findin’ solace in fix-it fic. I’m sure there’s plenty.”
“Well, you do that then. Bye.” Jen hung up.
Haley’s phone beeped at her and she threw it on the couch. For the first time in hours, she noticed the stifling heat. The wifebeater she wore was damp, and her boi shorts were sticking in some uncomfortable places. She reached out with her foot and kicked at the box fan to angle it closer to her, but it was just recirculating hot air. The wall unit in the living room was barely spitting out anything at all. She really needed to call the landlord about that. The ceiling fans twirled fast and hard with the occasional squeak. Still, in here was a lot better than the bedroom, where the heat and humidity made her feel like somebody was breathing all over her.
Between the Lines Page 1
