Love on the Night Shift

by Radclyffe

  Blaise rolled her eyes. “You mean the binge-watching Stranger Things gathering at your place? Yes. Are you okay with it?”

  “Sure.” Abby smiled. “But we really need a bigger house.”

  “That should be happening soon, right?”

  “That’s what Gina says. Her crew is just finishing up with the floors, and we ought to be moving in in another week or so. Then Blake will have his own room, and we’ll have two guest rooms. I’m thinking bunk beds at the rate we’re going.”

  “I am so sorry that I don’t have a bigger place,” Blaise said. “I’d be happy to have them.”

  Abby waved a hand. “I’m fine with it. Believe me, I’m just happy that Blake has found his crew.”

  “Well, don’t plan on feeding them breakfast,” Blaise said. “I’ll take care of that.”

  “You know they’re not going to get up until noon.”

  “I’m off tomorrow. I can handle staying up. Just march them out onto the porch when they surface.”

  “I’ll call you when they start moving around.” Laughing, Abby turned to Grady. “Are you set with Wilbur Hopkins?”

  “Yes,” Grady said. “We’ll go right to the OR after imaging.”

  Blaise added, “Pedro Alvarez is on his way in.”

  “Are you planning to scrub with him?” Abby asked Grady.

  “Absolutely.”

  “That may leave us short for surgery coverage if you’re in the OR.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Grady said.

  Abby nodded. “All right then. I’m going home.”

  “Good night,” Blaise called after her. “I owe you one.”

  “No, you don’t,” Abby called back.

  Grady raised a brow. “Was that all in code?”

  “It’s motherspeak,” Blaise said.

  Grady stiffened. “Oh. Okay. I get the picture…sort of. How old is your kid?”

  Blaise pulled one of the electronic charts out of the chart rack. She didn’t know why, but Taylor was not a topic she wanted to discuss with Grady. Almost everyone in the ER—at least those who were part of the old Rivers—knew Taylor, since she’d spent a good part of her childhood in the day care center provided for staff. But Grady wasn’t part of the hospital family, and Taylor was as personal as it got. Everything about Taylor was off-limits to people Blaise didn’t know well enough to trust.

  “Taylor is sixteen,” she said. “Sorry, I need to check on this patient.”

  “I’ll let you know how Wilbur does,” Grady called as Blaise turned away.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  Blaise made a circuit of all the occupied rooms, checked on the ER residents and PAs to make sure everyone had what they needed, and ensured that all of the patients who were waiting were stable. When she returned to the station, Wilbur’s room was empty and Grady was gone. She took a deep breath.

  Grady unsettled her in a way she couldn’t define. Plenty of attractive—all right, damn it, sexy—women had entered her orbit in the ER, and most of them had been too consumed with their own success, or too inflated by it, to interest her. Grady fit the mold and should have been easy to ignore, but she kept contradicting the picture Blaise assumed for her. That was new, and disturbing. With any luck, she wouldn’t run into her very often, and she wouldn’t be forced to ask herself questions she didn’t want to answer.

  * * *

  Abby pulled up in front of the renovated schoolhouse that had been her pick as a place to live when she and Blake had moved into the community. Centrally located and a quick walk—and even quicker drive—to the hospital in an emergency, the place had seemed perfect when she made the decision to leave Manhattan for a smaller community and a chance for Blake to start anew in a school where everyone would meet him as the young man he knew himself to be. She let herself in through the gate in the white picket fence and strolled down the flagstone walk, enjoying the crisp September night and smiling at the memory of how bucolic it had seemed from her vantage point of a Manhattanite—the perfect picture-postcard one-room schoolhouse that had served generations of families who still inhabited much of the village and surrounding countryside. The symbolism hadn’t been lost on her at the time, of how she hoped that her family would soon become part of the fabric of their new community.

  A front porch had been added on and was wide enough for several rocking chairs, which had been one of her first purchases. Because what was a farmhouse, or any house in the country, without rocking chairs on the porch? The front door led into what had been the school’s only room, now divided into a kitchen in the rear with a large counter wide enough for seating, so visitors could keep the cook company. Another room had been added at the rear to create a bedroom which, as soon as she’d seen it, she’d known was meant for her. Someone had been thoughtful enough to add bay windows, and the window seat looked out over a large rolling pasture that ended in a grove of towering pines that climbed the wooded hill where the hospital reigned over the village. A back door led to a rear deck, where she’d promptly put more chairs and a small table. A staircase opposite the kitchen ended in a loft that was perfect for Blake, at least at the time. She hadn’t quite envisioned the way life would change.

  Faint light emanated from the windows on either side of the front door, and she let herself in to her still charming and way too small house. The sofa separating the living area from the kitchen nook—thank goodness she’d had the good sense to purchase a large one—was presently occupied by five teens who somehow managed to arrange themselves with most of their body parts actually on the sofa. Various extremities dangled here and there in configurations she imagined would be painful, but having seen this tangle of youths in the same position dozens of times before, she had to assume they were at least somewhat comfortable.

  Her son slouched in the center of the sofa with his feet propped on the facing barnwood coffee table. Margie, her wife’s younger sister, which made Margie her sister-in-law, but she could hardly think of Margie that way, more like a daughter, which wasn’t quite right either, considering how close Margie and Blake had become—but she wasn’t going to think about that right now—leaned against Blake’s shoulder with her legs stretched over Taylor Richelieu’s lap. Dave Kincaid occupied the space on Blake’s right with his arm draped around Blake’s shoulders and his fingers resting on Taylor’s arm. Somehow, Tim Brunel managed to squeeze himself into the left corner and nestled against Taylor with Margie’s sock-clad feet in his lap. They looked like a litter of puppies.

  These five were familiar denizens of her living room, having come together over the summer at the 4-H club. She doubted that any of them planned on being farmers, but the club was one of the social centers for the area youths, since lots of the local teens did live on farms. Even if farming wasn’t in their future, they were all instilled with a certain love for the land and, most certainly, for the animals. It had taken Blake a hot New York minute to fall in love with everything country. He’d decided within days of arrival he was going to be a vet, and once he met Val Valentine and began to volunteer at her animal clinic, his future was set.

  Blake had met other teens over the course of the summer, but these five had bonded in a special way. Margie was the spirit of the group, Blake the heart, and Taylor the brains. Dave Kincaid, the local high school quarterback, was a hero to everyone and a much sought after date possibility for quite a few of the girls and boys in the junior and senior classes. He seemed rather oblivious to his charm and fame. Tim was quiet, with a sunny indomitable disposition, which was exactly what Abby liked to see in a kid who wanted to be a peace officer. She’d given up trying to figure out if there were any romantic combinations emerging, as she wasn’t completely sure she understood the new rules of teen relationships. She did appreciate their social dynamics were very different from what she’d grown up with and from what she had anticipated when she had looked down at Blake as a baby and imagined what Blake’s future would be.

  Blake had been assigned femal
e at birth, so the pictures Abby’d made were nothing like what she’d come to realize in the last three years was the real truth. Blake had known for far longer, and when he’d told her that he was certain, all the images of her future had shifted. In addition to wanting to protect him, something she knew no parent really ever could, she wanted to remain open and supportive while she tried to learn as much as she could as quickly as possible. She was still learning, but thankfully, Blake was strong enough to follow his instincts. He led the way for all of them.

  He glanced over now and gave her a little bit of a wave. She checked the television and after a few seconds recognized Stranger Things.

  She walked behind the sofa to ruffle his hair on the way to the kitchen, smiling when he pretended to duck his head to escape. Flann probably wouldn’t be home for another hour or so, and since the next day was Saturday and she was second call, she wasn’t worried about being a little tired in the morning. She grabbed the bottle of red they’d opened the night before, poured herself a glass, and strolled back into the living area. She took the only open seat, an overstuffed chair next to the sofa, and half watched the television while she sipped her wine.

  “Hi, Dr. Remy,” Taylor whispered from her place at the corner of the sofa.

  “Hi, Taylor.”

  “Did my mom say she was coming to get us in the morning?”

  Abby smiled into her glass. “Mm-hmm.”

  Taylor let out a long-suffering sigh. “I knew she would.”

  Abby had a feeling that being a predictable parent wasn’t necessarily such a bad thing, but of course she would never say so. Instead, she asked a predictable question so as not to disappoint. “Who drove you over here?”

  “Dave,” Taylor said. “He texted me just after my mom left for the hospital and said he and Tim were on the way over here and did I want to come.”

  “Sounds plausible,” Abby murmured, figuring they probably all planned it, but considering that Dave was old enough to drive after dark with a senior license, and she’d ridden with him and knew he was a good driver, and they were all sitting around in her living room, she was altogether pleased.

  Taylor laughed, apparently knowing their plan to meet up for the night was obvious. “Is Dr. Rivers at the hospital, still?”

  “Yes, she has a case,” Abby said. “She probably will be there for a while.”

  “I don’t think I’d like that very much, having to get up in the middle of the night and work,” Taylor said.

  Margie poked Taylor in the stomach. “That’s because you’re a princess.”

  Taylor looked affronted. “Am not.” She looked at Tim. “Are you going to say anything in my defense?”

  Tim smiled his good-natured smile. “Maybe you’re a little bit of a princess, but you deserve it.”

  Blake chuckled.

  Taylor rolled her eyes and pretended to huff, but Abby sensed she didn’t mind the appellation. She was a math geek on her way to being valedictorian and also had the good fortune of being one of the prettiest girls in the school. She looked like Blaise—blond hair the color of corn silk, eyes as blue as a summer sky, and a lithe athletic body. She played on the field hockey team that Blaise coached, and managed to be a star there as well. Taylor was one of the lucky ones, not because she was bright and pretty and talented, but because she’d somehow grown up with a good dose of humility and a generous spirit. And for that, everyone liked her, whereas she might have been the person everyone resented. Blaise deserved a lot of credit for that, and for the millionth time, Abby wondered just how much was nature and how much nurture really went into forming their children. She tried not to think too much about that and just appreciated how remarkable Blake had turned out to be.

  “You’re all staying here tonight, right?” Abby said for form, since they all knew by now they weren’t going anywhere in the middle of the night.

  A dutiful chorus of yeses followed.

  “Good.” Abby rose and drained the last of her wine. “You all know where the sleeping bags are—you can sort it out for yourselves. But if you’re sleeping down here, I can’t promise we won’t wake you up in the morning.”

  “That’s okay,” Blake said. “Margie and I have a shift at the hospital, so we’ll be up early anyhow.”

  The other three groaned.

  Dave gave Blake a squeeze. “It might be nice if you could arrange not to work on Saturday mornings once in a while, you know.”

  “Well, I guess we can to talk to the ER chief about that.” Blake grinned at his mother.

  Abby shook her head. “I don’t have anything to say about it. You have to take it up with Glenn. She handles all the PAs and interns.”

  “No, forget it,” Margie said. “Glenn’s a harda—um, particular about the rotations.”

  “Good point.” Laughing, Abby waved and made her way to the bedroom. They’d all be up half the night with the television on, probably falling asleep in front of it, and she’d awaken to a tangle of snoring teens in the morning. She could think of worse ways to wake up. She also was happy the television would be playing, because she planned on staying awake until Flann got home. After all, it was Friday night, she had nowhere to be in the morning, and late night surgeries always left Flann with a lot of excess energy.

  Chapter Four

  The instant the bedroom door opened, Abby woke from her light sleep. She moved the e-reader that had been resting on her chest as she dozed onto the nightstand and pushed back the covers for Flann.

  “Hi,” Abby murmured.

  Flann came around to Abby’s side of the bed, shucking her clothes as she walked, and leaned down to kiss her. “Hi, baby. I wondered if you’d be awake or not.”

  “I intended to be.” Abby pushed up on the pillows and scraped her hair out of her face with one hand. At least she hadn’t been drooling. “And I am, mostly.”

  “How awake?”

  “Plenty for what you’re thinking.” Abby surveyed Flann’s form in the faint glow cast by the vanity lights in the adjacent bathroom. Despite her unpredictable schedule, Flann managed to get a run in three or four times a week, and she looked it. Lean by nature, she was nicely muscled in all the right places and gently curved in others. Abby held out her hand and waggled her fingers. “You can’t stand there naked and just tease me. Come to bed.”

  “Let me jump in the shower first.”

  Abby let out a sigh. “Hurry.”

  Flann was an expert at getting ready at a moment’s notice and was back in literally minutes. Her skin was slightly cool from the shower as she slid under the sheets next to Abby. Leaning on one elbow, she danced her fingertips down the center of Abby’s chest and circled her navel. Abby shivered.

  “So,” Flann said, “Blake is asleep on the sofa in the living room with Dave Kincaid.”

  “I’m surprised they’re not still watching Stranger Things,” Abby said, slipping an arm around Flann’s waist and tugging her closer. Flann’s leg automatically slid between hers, a movement so practiced and automatic that still managed to be so incredibly arousing every single time. Abby sighed, her attention narrowing to the point between her thighs that throbbed against Flann’s smooth soft skin.

  “Yes, but Blake and Dave are sleeping together on the sofa,” Flann repeated.

  “Are they naked?” Abby muttered, rocking her hips to turn the teasing pleasure into something a lot more acute.

  “No,” Flann exclaimed.

  “Well then, it’s not the first time.”

  “All right then.” Flann sighed. “Is my sister here?”

  Talk first, then. Abby stopped moving but wrapped a leg around the back of Flann’s to keep her right against that perfect spot. “She’d better be. That was the deal. None of them were to leave. Usually they’re very good about it, so I’m sure the other three are upstairs.”

  “The other three?” Flann said slowly. “Who, and where are they sleeping? The loft is the size of a chicken coop. In fact, the one we built at Harp’s is bigger.”


  Abby smiled to herself. Flann was adorable when she was being all protective and parental. “Honey, things are different now. Margie and Taylor and Tim are up there.”

  “In what combination?”

  “That’s the point. It’s not a combination at all. They’re all friends, and they’re incredibly easy with one another, and it’s not about sex.”

  “Bull,” Flann said. “They’re teenagers. It’s always about sex.”

  Abby tapped Flann’s chin. “That’s because you always have sex on the brain, Dr. Rivers.”

  Flann caught Abby’s wrist and nipped at her fingertip. “Look who’s talking.”

  “True. And it will undoubtedly happen for them any day. But right now, they’re all happy being part of their group. The next time you come home, it might be Margie and Taylor on the sofa or Tim and Blake, or some other combination. They’re sorting it out.”

  “It’s weird,” Flann decided.

  Abby pulled Flann all the way on top of her and stroked her back. “No, it’s just different, and I think it’s pretty healthy. If they’re not sure about sex yet, they don’t feel any pressure to make decisions, or even to pair off, which probably puts off a lot of drama and angst for a few years. I’m not complaining about that.”

  “Okay, I concede that.” Flann kissed Abby, but before Abby could take it deeper still, she raised her head. “I still think I should have a talk with my sister.”

  “For what, the hundredth time?”

  Flann grinned in the faint light. “It makes me feel better.”

  “Well, I have an idea how to make you feel better.” Abby lifted her hips and turned, maneuvering Flann onto her back. She settled above her and kissed her. This time she didn’t stop until she needed to breathe. “Just lie there and I’ll show you.”

  Flann chuckled. “Anything you say.”

  * * *

  Despite Abby’s determination to sleep in, she woke at her usual time of five thirty. Flann slept soundly beside her, one arm thrown around her middle. She lay there, waiting for the sun to come up and listening to a rooster who was too impatient to bother. As far as he was concerned, everyone should be awake. After a few minutes, she eased out from beneath Flann’s arm, pulled on a tee and sweatpants, and kicked into her favorite shearling-lined slippers. She slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her, and instantly, miraculously, smelled coffee. Surely, she was hallucinating.