by Ellie Danes
“And then home?” he said with a smirk.
“God, yes!” Home sounded so good, even with the tension I knew would fill the air. It was a thousand times better than this hospital.
I’d been lounging about, taking a quiet morning at home for granted, when I’d gotten the call. Now, all I could do was hope to get back to the house that I’d been bitching about ever since school ended. That dungeon, I’d sometimes called the apartment.
“You seem ready for it,” he said, laughter in his voice.
“Words cannot express how much I want to be home,” I said with a wistful sigh. “I can only pray that tomorrow will be a little less eventful than today has been.”
I watched his head fall down to look at his feet. I wondered if he was feeling as nervous as I was all of a sudden. But then, he smiled and glanced up at me.
Inside, I swooned. Part of me would have sworn that the look he’d just given me had to have been some sort of tactic he’d done it so perfectly. Some move he’d developed over what I could only assume had been his many, many female conquests. It was a look I was certain could have broken down the Great Wall of China. A woman’s defenses didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hell.
He nodded his head down the hallway with a devilish smile, clearly gesturing for me to take a walk with him. He pivoted on his foot, never breaking eye contact and walked away with a cocky spring in his step. He knew I’d be on his heels. I almost didn’t follow him because of it. But I couldn’t resist.
I also couldn’t help but stare at him as he walked. His head was up, his chiseled jaw parallel to the floor. He walked smoothly, with confidence, and probably more tenacity than I felt any one man should possess.
After a few steps, I was walking next to him. He slipped his hand around mine and we continued on in silence until we were back beside the chairs we’d sat in earlier that day.
I released his hand and crossed my arms in front of my chest. He moved so that he was standing in front of me, but he still didn’t speak. Instead, he slung his arms into his overcoat and pulled it close to him.
“You know, you’re not what I expected,” I found myself saying, breaking the silence between us.
He studied me for a minute. “You’re not quite what I expected either.” His voice was throaty. “I didn’t expect to like you so quickly, for one thing.”
I smiled at the sentiment, realizing that I really wasn’t alone in it. Not that I should have ever questioned it. He was standing there. He was in the hospital, waiting with me for hours, skipping out on work just because he wanted to offer me comfort.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“For what?” He raised an eyebrow curiously.
“Everything,” I said. “For leaving work, coming here, being with me. You didn’t have to do any of that.”
“Of course I did,” he scoffed. “When you care about someone, you do have to be there for them.”
I was sure he was the type that had all sorts of barriers up. I bet he rarely showed who he really was. There wasn’t any need for that in the business world, I’d learned. My dad was the best example, because he hardly even acted like he even knew he really was.
Yeah. I was sure Ian was the type to protect himself from the outside world. Careful to never show too much. Never to become too human. Too personal.
“I really am sorry that I have to go,” he offered.
“It’s all right, really. We’re almost done.”
“Still, I’d so much rather stay here.” His voice was deep and husky and it sent a shudder straight through me.
His mouth was crooked up to one side resulting in a smirk on his face. A devilish, devilish smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing.
I closed my eyes and pressed my hands on my cheeks, trying to cool the blush I felt growing there. “Stop looking at me,” I said with a laugh.
“I don’t think that’s possible. I like you too much.”
With my stomach in knots, I responded, “I like you, too.”
It wasn’t the boldest, most beautiful declaration I’d ever made, but dammit, it was the truth.
Chapter 3
Ian
I couldn’t stop grinning. She’d just made me the happiest I could ever remember being — and all she’d done was tell me she liked me. There was just something about the way her words wrapped around my heart . . . a heart I wasn’t so sure even worked like it should most of the time. It wasn’t just the words, though—it was the way she looked at me when she said them.
“Okay. This has been probably the world’s longest goodbye,” she joked. “You need to get back to work.”
I knew by her tone that she wasn’t telling me to leave. In fact, I thought she was implying just the opposite. “Well, can I see you later?” I asked.
She smiled and nodded. “Of course.”
When she bit her lip, I almost groaned out loud, wishing that those lips were on mine again.
“Well, until then,” I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
A smile spread over her lips and she nodded. “Until then.”
And with that, it was time to go. I’d always been good at that — when to leave, when to stay. Although Kate sometimes made me question everything I thought I knew and thought I was good at.
Just as I turned, a heavy-bodied nurse approached from the hall, her stare fixed directly behind me. Directly on Kate. As soon as I saw her, I worried that something with Claire might have taken a turn and something was wrong. But as she got closer, I realized she was smiling. She didn’t look worried at all.
I quietly let out the breath I’d drawn in and kept walking.
“Ms. Murphy,” the rounded woman called out as she passed me.
“Yes?” Kate responded.
I immediately stopped dead in my tracks and cringed. Murphy?
The nurse sounded content — like everything was fine. But it didn’t seem very fine to me. Something twisted in my gut, that little knot that says things are about to go to hell in a hand basket. But I began walking toward the exit again, pushing it to the back of my mind. Reminding myself that I always had that gut reaction at the mention of the name Murphy. Why wouldn’t I? Until now, the name had been nothing but synonymous with causing me stress. I rolled my shoulders, trying my best to loosen the tension in my neck and back. There were probably thousands of people with the last name Murphy in this city. It was New York City, after all.
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as I exited through the hospital’s large glass front door and the crisp, clean — yet incredibly cold — winter air hit me. I pulled in a cleansing breath and settled myself on the idea that it wasn’t Kate’s last name that bothered me, but the hospital itself. I had negative emotions about hospitals—it had to do with what being at a hospital meant, rather than the building itself. Death. Illness. Hospitals were places you went when things were wrong. And those wrong things didn’t always have a positive turnout.
I could only hope Claire would have a positive outcome. I wished I could meet Claire, but it wasn’t exactly the appropriate time to meet her. Not only had Kate and I barely even had one date, but the poor girl was in the hospital. The last thing she needed was to feel like she was on display to strangers, like she was straight on the cover of Depression Magazine.
I just wanted to meet her because she seemed to be the only person that Kate really got along with in her life. That was why I’d felt like I had to go to the hospital in the first place. I had no idea what it was like to have my favorite person in the entire world try to kill herself. I knew what it was like to lose them, but at least it hadn’t been my old man’s choice to bail out on me. It was just life. And after what Kate had said about her mother leaving, I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for her knowing her sister might too.
I watched the swarms of people pass by me on the sidewalk in the evening rush and I couldn’t help but wonder about their stories. Who had left them, who had stayed, who they were rushing home to? I ha
ted when the streets were so crowded. I was shoulder to shoulder. Packed in like a sardine with people shopping, laughing, talking, getting off work. I didn’t like being around that many people at once. But what did I expect? I It was evening rush. The sun was making its way lower in the sky, so of course the street was bustling with people.
What I wouldn’t have given to just go home and take a nap. With my job, that was rarely possible. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten home at five o’clock, not unless it was five o’clock in the morning after pulling an all-nighter. Those had occurred more often than I cared to recall.
But I was certain if anyone was wondering about me, they would assume I was on my way home after a day at work, not on my way back to the office to likely work until the city that never sleeps was dozing off. People continued to shuffle quickly past me on the sidewalk. Everyone seemed normal and fine, but I didn’t feel fine. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I still didn’t know how to react to caring about someone I hardly knew, or if I was still worried for Kate and Claire. The one thing I was sure of . . . I was confused as hell. Everything in my world was in some form of turmoil. The lawsuit had my company in a state of commotion and now, Kate had everything inside me doing and feeling things I didn’t even know how to describe. It was unsettling and confusing.
The only comfort, the only constant, was New York City. Even the smells were the same. Food was a big part of it. There were dog vendors just down the street — on every damn street, it seemed—food trucks, restaurants, weird meat on stick stands. Then there was the smell of car exhaust, and even that smell was comforting.
It all intertwined to create a feeling of being home for me.
I breathed in heavily, the cold air stinging my lungs as I continued to pound toward the parking garage where I’d left my Bentley. Street parking in this district was even more of a nightmare than everywhere else in the city. For good reason, too. People were trying to get to the medical centers. Of course they’d want to park as close as possible.
Once I got to my car, I flung the door open. The puff of air that wafted out smelled just like my old man. That scent reminder was the kick in the ass that I needed to get my head back in the game. Time to get back to work.
* * * * *
Finally, back in my office, I sank into my favorite swivel chair and turned around to glance out the large windowed walls behind me. It was snowing again. Dad always liked when it snowed. Said it was the perfect weather to stay in and get things accomplished. It was as if he were reminding me I had things to get done.
I wasn’t good at feeling emotions. I wasn’t good at being myself, especially not when I didn’t know a person well. Paperwork was a relief compared to all of that.
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Cross,” Janice called faintly from the door of my office.
I looked up and met her gaze. “Hmm?”
“Mr. Pfeiffer left these for you to sign,” she said, as she pushed the door open further and walked in, holding a small tan folder.
“Of course,” I said, taking it from her. “Oh, and Janice, I’m sorry if I was short earlier with you. It wasn’t you.”
“No, I didn’t think you were mad at me, Mr. Cross,” she said a little more formally than I would have liked. “This job is a high-pressure one.”
“That it is,” I said with a sigh. “But I think I’m starting to handle it better.” I tried to smile reassuringly as I swiveled my pen over the bottom of all the pages. I wasn’t signing it. I was just making a few little doodles. I wasn’t going to sign anything that Pfeiffer wanted me to sign. At least, not without fully reading over them first.
Call it juvenile. I didn’t care.
I didn’t trust the man. And he wouldn’t have pissed on me if I was on fire, and I felt the same way about him. If it was something I really had to sign, I would. In time.
“You’re doing a great job,” she said with a smile. “It’ll all come together.”
She sounded pretty convinced, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that she actually had faith in me. It was nice to have people believe in you. And although I knew most people did believe in me — with the grand exception of my Vice President — it was still nice to see and hear once in a while.
“Thanks, Janice,” I said as I closed the folder and handed it back to her with a smirk. “Make sure Mr. Pfeiffer gets these back. And would you mind making me a copy of those, I’d like to read over them.” She turned to leave my office.
She took the papers and gave me a knowing look. She was fully aware of the bad blood between me and him. She cracked open the folder, flipped a couple of pages and grinned. “You’re just trying to piss him off, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Not at all,” I replied in my most innocent tone of voice. She just shook her head at me and started for the door.
As I watched her silhouette disappear into the shadow of the hallway and shut the door behind her, that same uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach came back — full force. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t for the life of me place what the hell it meant.
I shook my head and decided to ignore it. A notification symbol was lighting up in the top corner of my screen saying I had an email marked as important. I took a deep breath. I only received that notification for a few reasons. That sign usually meant there was another office announcement and those were hardly ever good things in my opinion. Even when they were generally positive in nature, they still seemed like the bane of my existence. “Let’s have a Christmas Party,” or some other bullshit. Everyone was always trying to do some sort of potluck at the office.
I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t have to rain on everyone’s parade. But we’d just had two Christmas parties and a Thanksgiving potluck not long before that. Too many parties were just as bad as no parties at all. It was bad for productivity. Dad always said: Give them too little; and they don’t have incentive to work hard. No reward means unhappy workers. Give them too much and they think the workplace is a fun-only zone.
It was one area I tended to agree with him on.
I clicked on the notification, expecting it to be an interoffice memo. Instead, I was surprised to see a message from Ben. Not a memo at all.
Ben. Murphy. It was the last name I even wanted to think about at the moment. But there it was.
Murphy.
Ben Murphy.
Michael Murphy.
Kate Murphy.
That’s when it hit me like some sort of high-voltage, crazy electric shock had struck within my brain and fried it. I couldn’t quite understand what was going on. Couldn’t fathom it. It gave me a headache.
Why hadn’t I put two and two together earlier?
Her last name was Murphy. I’d seen Michael Murphy…and I’d see him smack dab in that same exact hospital, on the same hall Kate and Claire had been on.
The light bulb had been there flickering the entire time. On and off. But I didn’t see it. Maybe subconsciously I didn’t want to see it as my mind continued to rationalize it. Suddenly, it was like it had illuminated so brightly that it exploded in my brain. Now, the idea crashed into me so hard it was like the shards of the bulb were real, and they were cutting me deep.
I came to the conclusion my mind had been wanting me to reach but my heart had been pretending wasn’t likely. The room started to spin.
Kate’s last name. That was exactly what had been bothering me, twisting my gut into knots.
Could they really be related? Michael Murphy had been at the hospital. But, couldn’t it have been a coincidence?
I hoped — but something told me I wasn’t that lucky.
Chapter 4
Kate
It was slow going, getting Claire dressed to leave. She was finally being discharged, and you’d think she’d be hopping up and down for joy, but she was sluggishly bitching about anything and everything I did.
“Will you please be careful!” she snarled, her teeth clenching as I pulled her pants up.
&n
bsp; I’d already known the drill enough to grab a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt from her pajama drawer before I left for the hospital. I knew she’d want to go home in her own clean clothes.
“My leg hurts, Kate!” she hissed.
“Well, probably because you — how did you put it — ‘took a chunk out’ of your skin?” I snapped.
“Stop it.”
“Nope. Not this time, Claire.” I pulled the sweatpants over her butt and snapped the waistband.
“Jesus, I thought I was leaving the torture chamber!” she cried.
“Stop being dramatic,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to give her tough love or if I was really pissed off. Maybe it was a mix of both.
“Can I come in or not?” our dad’s deep, gruff voice called through the curtain.
“Not unless you want to see her boobs!” I shouted, frustrated as I jerked the white and blue hospital gown off from the front of her body. I could feel her cringe as soon as I mentioned her breasts out loud and I knew Dad was doing the same. But I didn’t care. I yanked hard at the cotton gown and it slid off her arms.
“Ouch!” Claire seethed, gesturing to the small cotton balls where her IV had been in.
“Sorry,” I said, finally getting her top on her. “Come on in, Dad!”
Dad walked in wearing an odd expression. His eyes looked more tired than usual and he had a half-smile on his face. I twisted my brows, confused. What the hell was he on? He looked high.
He walked toward us, an emotional grin on his face as tears edged their way at the brims of his eyes. His arms extended out to us and, immediately, I tensed as I felt one of his hands graze my shoulder. I held my breath as he pulled me and Claire close to him.
“Uh?” I grunted, as I felt my breath being squeezed out of my body.
What had gotten into him?
“I love you both so much,” he whispered, almost too faintly to hear. By the tension I felt come from Claire, I knew that she’d heard it too.
He pulled away from us and his hands dropped to his side for a second. He took a deep breath and then looked at me. “I have to head back to work. Will you be able to take her to the therapist?”