When You Became Mine

by AS Teague

  I was dishing out the pad Thai. “You should answer it, tell him the good news.”

  She silenced the ringer and shook her head. “Nah. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to celebrate with you.” She grinned across the table. “Now, pass the noodles.”

  I handed them over, ignoring the triumphant swell in my chest. This was not the way I’d planned the night. And there was no way I was going to tell her I loved her now and make her doubt her decision to leave in two weeks. But the small part of me that still expected her to choose my brother over me finally withered away and died with her ignoring his call.

  And that was almost as good as hearing her tell me she loved me too.

  31

  Piper

  I loved the program.

  It was more than I ever imagined it would be. I was learning, trying my best to become a sponge and soak up every ounce of information that was given to me.

  But I missed Lawson.

  A lot.

  And every day that I woke up without him beside me, I lamented the fact that my dream residency was so far away from the person who’d become my dream man.

  The last month had been filled with more patients’ heartbreak than I could count and fewer hours of sleep than I had ever experienced.

  Lawson and I hadn’t been able to talk much and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss his voice and the way his deep timbre could calm me. Doing what I was, I needed his patient tone more than ever. But we’d spent our time apart texting, and it was better than nothing. Plus, it seemed like every time I opened my messages, there was one from Lawson, just waiting to brighten my day.

  He’d sent the very first message while I’d been on the plane, so when I turned my phone back on I’d been greeted with a picture of Seven.

  Lawson: Remember when you hated cats?

  Me: I still do.

  Lawson: Lies.

  There was a picture attached of me passed out on the couch, Seven curled up on my chest. I had no idea when he’d taken it, but there was no denying that my hatred for cats was over. I didn’t even try to argue.

  And so, that’s how the month had passed. Messages about nothing at all, yet they were everything I needed to get through the days.

  Even though it was sobering, my work was so rewarding. I couldn’t believe most days that I’d been accepted into the program of my dreams and was able to help make a difference in the lives of these children. It was absolutely a dream come true. But there were times, like today, that were hard, no matter how prepared I was for it. We’d lost a patient to cancer this morning. She’d been four days shy of her fifth birthday, and after we’d pronounced her, I’d excused myself long enough to text Lawson.

  Me: Lost a child today. This is hard.

  I hadn’t had time to wait for a response before my hospital issued phone was going off again. I’d shoved my cell back into my pocket and spent the rest of the day throwing myself into the care of other patients. I’d managed to keep it together, to keep my emotions in check, and had even gone so far as given myself a pat on the back for my composure. But the moment I set foot on the train, the dam had burst and I’d cried the whole way home.

  When I got off the train and began the short walk back to the studio apartment I was living in, I pulled my phone from my pocket. Like my own personal hero, which was what I’d started thinking of him as, Lawson’s message was waiting on me. My chest ached as I found myself wishing I were walking back to his house instead of the tiny space I hadn’t even had the chance to decorate.

  Lawson: Remember when we went camping? You were ten. You found that baby bunny that had been attacked by some animal and you tried so hard to save it.

  My heart squeezed at the memory. I’d held the poor little thing for an hour, petting its head and offering it promises that it would be okay, even though I’d known it wouldn’t be. When the bunny had taken its last breath, I’d cried for what seemed like hours.

  Me: We buried it by that big tree we all carved our initials in.

  Lawson: You made us have a memorial service for it, and we all talked about what a cute and sweet little rabbit it was.

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. I walked to the door of my apartment and skidded to a stop. Sitting in front of my door was the biggest display of wildflowers I’d ever seen. Instantly, tears filled my eyes and I looked around, desperate to see his warm brown eyes waiting for me.

  Me: Did you send these?

  I didn’t need to ask. I knew he did. I don’t know how he remembered all the random details about me, all the childhood memories that seemed so insignificant. After we’d buried the bunny, everyone had gone on about their day, fishing and swimming and roasting marshmallows. But I hadn’t been able to shake the sadness of having the little creature die in my hands.

  Everyone except for Lawson. He’d had to pry it out of me, but finally I confided that I couldn’t stop thinking about the poor thing.

  I smiled to myself again as I remembered the way his lips had twisted as he pondered my predicament. Hampton would have just given me a nudge on the shoulder and told me it was okay. But Lawson had taken my feelings seriously and had finally suggested putting flowers on the creature’s “grave.” He’d said it would make me feel better. I don’t know how or when he’d become so wise, but somehow, he’d been right. The simple act had given me the sense of peace that my ten-year-old mind had needed.

  And now, here he was again, offering support and comfort, even from hundreds of miles away.

  Lawson: I wish I were on the other side of your door, waiting for you.

  God, I wished that too.

  Me: How many more days until I’m back?

  His reply was almost instant.

  Lawson: 334.

  I sighed. It may as well have been a million.

  Me: Remember when I was obsessed with that Ouch! Bubble gum?

  Lawson: How could I forget? You never let me have any.

  Me: I was a real brat.

  Lawson: You said it, not me…

  Me: Go check your front porch.

  I held the phone in anticipation, giddy with excitement. I’d been exploring the area on a rare day off and had gone into an old-fashioned drug store and found the gum of my youth. They’d had a case of it, and I’d bought every last tin of the Hubba Bubba.

  A few minutes later the bubbles that indicated Lawson was typing popped up and I suppressed an excited squeal.

  Lawson: Turns out that this gum is terrible. Now I’m not so sad you never shared.

  I giggled. He was right. I’d shoved three pieces in my mouth before I even left the store and had been so disgusted, I’d spat it out in the trash can by the door.

  Me: Is that any way to thank me for my thoughtful generosity?

  Lawson: I’ll thank you properly when you get home.

  Me: Is that a promise?

  Lawson: 302 more days.

  I groaned and then pulled up the web browser on my phone. I’d recently started pricing out flights home, hoping that one day I’d find the magical combination of affordability and perfect timing. I didn’t have more than two days in a row off from the hospital, so I’d had about as much luck as I would have if I’d been searching for Bigfoot.

  I had a break coming up in a couple months. I’d just have to find a way to survive until then.

  Lawson: Remember when you lied to me before leaving?

  I was lying in bed, trying to get the memories of Lawson’s hands on my body out of my head. But no matter what I did, every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the way his eyes burned with a passion that had caused my heart to stutter when he entered me for the first time.

  Me: Lied to you? About what?

  Lawson: You said a year would fly by. This has been the longest year of my life.

  Me: It’s been three months.

  Lawson: Exactly!

  Me: I miss you too.

  Lawson: What is it that you miss the most? My geekish charm? Perhaps
my impeccable taste in movies? My expert mouth?

  Yes. All those things. I missed every last bit of Lawson. Even his nagging to close the cabinet doors. But if I told him that, it would just make us both feel worse. And while this separation sucked, it was what I had to do.

  Me: I miss you feeding me. I’ve lived on ramen noodles for the last week.

  Lawson: 269 more days.

  I dropped the phone back on the counter and squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to go to sleep. I had a shift in a few hours that I needed to get sleep for. But Lawson’s blazing eyes refused to let me go.

  Logically, I knew I would survive the rest of my residency. But my chest ached every time I looked at the calendar and saw how far away the end really was. I sighed and turned to my side, pulling up my web browser to check flights for what was probably the hundredth time since I’d gotten here.

  32

  Lawson

  “Earth to Reed.” Pieters snapped his fingers in front of my face, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  Thoughts of Piper.

  I’d spent eight years pining over her while I was in Vegas and it seemed like just the blink of an eye compared to the last four months she’d been in Philadelphia.

  I thought it would be easier to let her go this time. When I was in Vegas, we didn’t talk or see each other. But this time would be different because I talked to her or messaged with her every day.

  But I’d been wrong.

  It had been easier when I wasn’t talking to her. Out of sight, out of mind and all. But the text messages that were sweet and funny and 100 percent the Piper I was in love with just made me want her more. To be able to touch her. To wake up and find she’d crawled into my bed in the middle of the night.

  Now that I’d had her, I needed her here.

  I shook my head. “Sorry, man.”

  Pieters smirked. “Thinking about your girl again?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped.

  “Man, you’ve been staring at her picture on your phone for the last five minutes.”

  I groaned and hit the home button, causing my screen to go black. I had been staring at her face, willing her plump lips to move and tell me she was coming home.

  I pushed a hand through my hair. “Let’s go over it again. You say we can’t link the names on the accounts that the organization’s opened to an actual person?”

  Pieters nodded. “Nope. It’s like this guy is a ghost in the wind. Even his aliases are coming up empty. The last known address for him was somewhere in Florida. But the organization is still running. Still taking donations. Still has a face to go with the sob stories they spout. But that face isn’t the brains behind this operation. And we haven’t been able to find a single shred of him for the last six months.”

  I reclined back in my office chair. “Yeah, that son of a bitch has been taunting us. But he’s not smarter than I am. I’m close, I can feel it. He’s gotta turn up somewhere.”

  Pieters grunted in agreement. “Let’s take a break. I need to get out of this office.”

  I nodded and pushed out of my chair. “Yeah, all right.”

  As we trudged down the hall of my house, both of us stiff and weary from sitting behind my desk, Pieters asked, “So, when was the last time you saw her?”

  I didn’t want to talk about Piper. He was probably the best friend I had, but there were still some things I didn’t want to discuss with him. And my pathetic pining for my long-distance girlfriend was one of them.

  I rounded the corner and stopped in my tracks, causing him to run into my back. “Reed, what the fuck?”

  “Piper?” I breathed.

  Her head whipped toward the sound of my voice and my heart stopped beating in my chest when I saw the look of despair on her face. “Lawson,” she cried before launching herself from the couch and into my arms.

  The sobs that wracked her body shook me and all I could do was hold her close while her tears soaked my shirt. I don’t know how long we stood there, arm in arm, her crying while I wracked my brain for what could possibly be the reason for her tears.

  When she finally managed to catch a breath, she looked up at me, her face red and puffy. Even though she was here when she shouldn’t be and visibly upset, she was still a sight for sore eyes. “What’s wrong?” I asked, not willing to let her go.

  Her nostrils flared as she pulled in what I assumed was an attempt at a cleansing breath. It didn’t work, because as soon as her lips parted to speak, her eyes filled with tears again. “They kicked me out.”

  She could have said that she decided to quit medicine and join the circus and I would have been less shocked. “I’m sorry, they what?”

  I released her with one arm and guided us to the couch. Piper was holding a piece of paper that was crumpled in her hand and she thrust it in my direction.

  A deep voice rumbled from the hallway, reminding me we were not alone. “I, uh, I’ll catch up with you later, man.”

  I jerked my chin up in his general direction but never pulled my eyes from the paper in front of me. It was a letter from the State Board of Medical Examiners.

  I scanned it twice before looking back at where Piper sat, tears streaming down her face. I didn’t know all the terminology that was used but understood enough to know this was bad.

  Very bad.

  “You’ve been writing prescriptions for painkillers?”

  Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “No!”

  “This is ludicrous.” I could feel the flush of anger creeping up my neck. “Why would they even think this?”

  “I have no idea,” she wailed. “I haven’t ever written a prescription for OxyContin.”

  The longer she sobbed, the more furious I became. There was no way Piper would have ever done anything like this. I read over the letter once more.

  The board was accusing her of improperly writing prescriptions for hundreds of pills to people here in Georgia. There was going to be a hearing scheduled, but until then, she was effectively stripped of her medical privileges.

  I pushed to my feet and stormed down the hall to get my phone. When I returned, Piper was still in the same spot on the couch, no longer wailing, but weeping quietly. I handed her a box of tissues I grabbed from the bathroom and sat back down beside her.

  “I’m going to fix this,” I declared, pulling up my list of contacts.

  She scoffed. “You are?”

  I nodded.

  “Lawson, how the hell are you going to fix this?” She dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes. “You gonna hack into their system and just delete this letter?”

  I pushed my hand through my hair. That wasn’t what I had in mind, but it wasn’t a bad idea. And it was something I could easily do. I shook my head. “What do you think it is that I actually do?”

  “I don’t know. You build firewalls and stare at computer screens all day.” She shrugged and then blew her noise noisily into a tissue before dropping it on the floor.

  “Yes, I build firewalls and stare at computer screens all day. But I do it for the Federal Government.” Her eyes widened, but I continued without giving her a chance to speak. “So, if I can’t fix it, I guarantee I know someone who can.”

  I racked my brain, thinking of all the guys I knew, and who would have any sort of influence over this sort of thing.

  “I don’t know where to even start,” she lamented. “I tried calling the Board, but no one would answer any of my questions. They said I needed to hire an attorney.” Her voice wobbled as she finished her sentence and I knew she was dangerously close to dissolving into tears again.

  I cupped her face in my hands and brought it to my own. Our noses were nearly touching when I promised her, “I will fix this for you.”

  Her bottom lip quivered as she said on a sigh, “Okay, Lawson. If you say you can take care of it, then I trust you.”

  As the last word left her lips I crushed mine to them. It had been four months since I’d felt them and I couldn’
t wait another second. The moment they touched, she pushed into my lap, wrapping her limbs around my body and holding on tight.

  I didn’t kiss her hard, but soft and slow, relishing the slide of her tongue against mine and the weight of her in my lap. It had been too long since I’d held her, too long since I’d tasted her, too long since I’d lost myself in her. And despite how desperately I wanted to feel her soft skin pressed against mine, I knew that was the last thing she needed right now.

  When she pulled away, my lips burned at the loss of hers. She sighed and settled her head into the crook of my neck.

  “I wanted to come home every day I was there.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess I should be careful what I wish for, huh?”

  I rubbed lazy circles on her back, burying my nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender that was uniquely her. “I missed the way you smell,” I murmured, my hand stilling on her back.

  “I missed the feel of your hands on me,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

  I resumed my slow rub and asked, “When did you get the letter?”

  She hiccupped. “Yesterday.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  She lifted her head to look at me. Her face was still puffy, but she offered a feeble smile. “I read the letter. Then I read it again. After the third time, all I could think was that I couldn’t be alone. I needed you. My brain just shut down from everything else, except for you. I was like a robot: pack a bag, book a flight, call a cab, get to you. In all honesty, the thought of calling you never even crossed my mind. I just needed to be with you.”

  The utter sadness in her eyes punched me so hard in the stomach it nearly knocked the wind out of me. I promised her again, “I am going to take care of this. I swear to God, you’ll be back in Philadelphia before you know it.”

  Piper climbed off my lap. “I need a shower.”

  “Why don’t you go clean up and I’ll order something for dinner?”

  She nodded. “Then you can tell me what exactly it is you do for the government. And why you never told me.”