by MJ Duncan
That was when she realized that she had all but hung up on Anna the night before. She had tried to call her as she stumbled back to her hotel, but it had gone straight to voicemail and she figured that Anna was busy with patients. Though, now that closer to six hours had passed since she left her a message, she was becoming concerned that something else was going on. Anna always returned her calls, even when she was busy, and this extended silence was wreaking havoc on her already frayed nerves.
She failed to stifle a yawn as she stopped at a crosswalk, and shook her head as she combed her fingers through her still-damp hair. The hot shower she had taken after waking up had done more to reenergize her than the precious hours of sleep she had stolen, and combined with the clean clothes she now wore, she almost felt human. She had known that this whole thing would be draining, but she was still surprised by how exhausted the last thirty-six hours had left her. She was worried about her father, worried about her mother, and worried about why Anna had not returned her call yet.
She felt like she was being pulled in too many directions at once.
It was easier to remain focused on who she needed to be in Boston when she had meetings and meals and phone calls to keep her occupied. But now she had nothing but time. Nothing but time to think. To worry. To wish for things she had no right to wish for when her father was fighting for his life.
She needed to be strong, because her father was ill and her mother was virtually incapacitated with the fear of losing her husband. She needed to be informed and decisive, because her mother had retreated into herself, leaving Bryn to make the decisions about her father’s care. She needed to be tough, but there was a part of her that wanted to be weak. That wanted to feel the warmth of Anna’s arms around her and the gentle press of Anna’s lips against her forehead as she promised her that everything would be okay.
She shook her head as the signal changed, and hurried across the street.
She would allow herself to be weak when she got home, would allow herself to break when she was wrapped in Anna’s arms, but for now she could afford no such luxury. Strength required discipline and distance, and thankfully for her, she had a lifetime of experience in both.
She stopped at the front desk for her visitor’s badge before taking the elevator up to the CSICU, and she offered the nurse at the desk a tight smile as she made her way to her father’s room. He was still asleep, knocked out by the drugs being delivered intravenously into his body, and the steady bleep, bleep, bleep of the heart monitor was the most reassuring sound Bryn could have hoped to have heard. Her mother was right where Bryn had left her, curled up in the chair beside the bed, looking nearly as frail as her husband.
Bryn was relieved to see that her mother had fallen asleep, and she turned her phone to silent as she sat in the chair the charge nurse had brought in for her earlier. It was small, barely padded and incredibly uncomfortable, but she gave it little thought as she pulled off her boots and tucked her feet up under herself, distracting herself with counting the beeps of the heart monitor, grateful that the task was enough to occupy her thoughts.
One…two…three…four…
Eventually she stopped counting, but her thoughts remained quiet as her eyes slipped shut.
She jolted awake a few hours later to the sound of the door to her father’s room sliding quietly open, and she ran her hands through her hair as she sat up just as his doctor slip into the room.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He smiled apologetically.
Bryn shook her head as she glanced at the clock and saw that it was now a few minutes before six. “No. It’s fine. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.” She got to her feet and stood off to the side as the doctor approached the bed, and watched as he inspected the incision that ran down the center of her father’s chest.
The incision was red and swollen and difficult for Bryn to look at, but the doctor seemed pleased with what he saw. He replaced the gown, and Bryn averted her eyes as he lifted the blanket to check the incision along her father’s inner thigh. He had ended up using the saphenous vein to replace the ones in her father’s heart that had been clogged, and the surgeon concluded his examination by checking the fluid that had drained through her father’s chest tube.
“Considering everything that has happened, he is doing incredibly well right now,” he said with a kind smile.
Bryn nodded. “Good.”
“Very much so,” the doctor agreed. “We’ll keep him here for a couple more days for monitoring, and if everything remains stable, we’ll move him to the Step Down Unit for a few more before we discharge him.”
Bryn nodded again. She had been so exhausted earlier that she had not thought to ask about what the process would be following such major surgery, but now that things had reached some kind of equilibrium, she asked, “And his recovery time?”
“Four to six weeks at a minimum.”
“Six weeks?” Bryn’s mother asked as she sat up straighter in her chair. Her hair was matted and disheveled and her makeup all but worn off, but there was an alertness in her gaze that had been lacking the night before.
“Good evening, Mrs. Nakamura,” the doctor said, tipping his head in Victoria’s direction. “And, yes, as I was telling your daughter, your husband is doing well. His numbers are good, and though it is early, his incisions show no sign of infection.”
Victoria Nakamura nodded. “And six weeks?”
“He will need to do nothing but focus on his recovery for about that long,” the doctor explained. “He won’t be cleared to drive until after his four week check-up to make sure that the chest incision is fully healed, and it usually takes a couple more weeks for patients to regain the majority of the normal energy levels back. We will do exercise stress testing twice a week for the first four to six weeks to make sure everything is where it needs to be, but the full course of therapy will run twelve weeks.”
There was no mistaking the look her mother shot her, and Bryn sighed. She could not afford to stay in Boston for that long. She would go insane. “When will he be able to return to work?”
The doctor checked the chart again. “He’s in finance?” When Bryn nodded, he said, “Probably right around that six-week mark. Honestly, since the job isn’t physically strenuous, he could be back as soon as he’s cleared to drive—though the length of the therapy program will remain the same regardless. It all depends on how he’s feeling.”
“Okay. Thank you,” Bryn said.
“Of course. Assuming he remains stable through the night, I will be back to check on him first thing tomorrow morning.”
Bryn nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Yes, thank you,” Victoria echoed as he nodded and made his way for the door. Once it slid shut behind him, she turned to Bryn.
Hoping to cut off her mother’s argument before it could begin, Bryn held up her hand and shook her head. “Langston can handle the company for four weeks, Mother. You know as well as I do that Father will be chomping at the bit to go back well before then, anyway.”
“Perhaps,” her mother allowed grudgingly, “but he is getting too old to handle the stress of running the company by himself. It’s time you come home.”
“I can’t. I have Spectrum, and there are plenty of people within the firm who would be more than willing to step up in his absence. Langston would have no problem taking over, and he’s been grooming Thomas Viera to take his position as CFO for years. It would be an incredibly painless transition should Father choose to retire.”
“Brynsley,” her mother warned.
Bryn shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I have my own business to run—I don’t have time to oversee the firm as well.”
“Your own business,” her mother scoffed. “It’s a farm, Brynsley. It’s beneath you. We did not send you to Wellesley and Oxford for you to play in the dirt.”
No, you sent me to those universities so that you would have something to lord over your so-called friends at the club. Bryn bit the ins
ide of her cheek and silently counted to ten to try and stem her rising frustration. Neither tactic worked, though she was proud that she managed to keep her voice level when she said, “I do not play in the dirt, Mother. I own and operate one of the fastest-growing vineyards in the Pacific Northwest.”
The rush she felt at pointing out her success died under her mother’s condescending, disinterested gaze. She took a deep breath. It would do her no good to continue and argue her case, nothing she did or said would ever change her mother’s opinion.
Really, she should have known better than to even try.
She shook her head. She just needed to get through these next few days without picking a fight, and then she could go home. “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee,” she said as she picked up her purse. “Can I bring you back anything?”
Her mother’s eyes flashed with assumed victory because Bryn had backed down, and she shook her head. “Their tea is positively ghastly. I will come down there myself in a little bit and see if there is something perhaps a little less revolting.”
“Of course, Mother,” Bryn murmured as she slipped her bag over her shoulder. She recognized the dismissal in her mother’s tone, and she was grateful for it because it gave her permission to leave without another word.
As was always been the case with her mother, it was not about winning the battle, it was simply about surviving the war. And she had learned long ago that retreat was the surest way to guarantee survival. She kept her eyes down as she made her way from intensive care unit to the elevators, and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind her.
She was surprised by how busy the cafeteria was until she checked the time on her phone and saw that it was already six-thirty. It was strange to think that the entire day had all but passed her by—though it made perfect sense considering the fact that she had slept through most of it—but her phone vibrating with an incoming call gave her something better to focus on.
“Hey, you. I’m sorry about last night,” she said as she stepped out of line and found an empty table to sit at.
“It’s okay. How are you?” Anna asked in a gentle, concerned tone.
“Better, now,” Bryn admitted with a small smile. She closed her eyes and rubbed a hand over her forehead. “It’s so good to hear your voice. It’s been a really long day.”
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s doing better. He ended up going in for emergency bypass surgery last night. He’s sleeping, but the doctor seemed optimistic about his recovery. I actually just ducked out to grab a coffee from the cafeteria, so your timing is great.”
“I try…”
Bryn sighed. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Bryn.”
“Anna.” Bryn pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “I’m fine. I just need to get through this so I can come home.”
“You don’t look fine,” Anna murmured.
Bryn froze. No. She must have misheard what Anna said.
“You look exhausted.”
“How do you know?” Bryn asked, her voice low and rough because her heart had leapt into her throat.
“Open your eyes, beautiful.”
Forty-Eight
Bryn’s phone slipped from her hand and clattered loudly against the table as she shot to her feet. She blinked hard as she stared at Anna, who was standing beside her table in a pair of jeans and her favorite threadbare UW hoodie. Her hair was pulled back in its usual braid, and she had her backpack slung over her right shoulder. A small, sheepish smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and Bryn shook her head as she tried to make sense of what was happening.
Anna should not be standing in front of her.
And yet, she was.
Oh God, no, Bryn thought as her gaze automatically darted around the crowded cafeteria. Her mother had said she would come down on her own, and if she saw her with Anna… Bryn grit her teeth. It would be bad. So terribly, terribly bad. She had already pushed her mother as far as she could for one day by standing her ground in regards to Spectrum and the family firm. This would be too much. She could only manage one catastrophe at a time, and this was not one she was at all prepared to deal with.
Bryn licked her lips as she looked back at Anna. She could not do this right now. “What are you doing here?”
Anna reached out to tuck a strand of Bryn’s hair behind her ear, and frowned at the way Bryn stiffened and leaned away from her touch. “Nakamura?”
The doubt in Anna’s voice, the hurt that flashed in her eyes was too much, and Bryn swallowed thickly as she looked away. “Why are you here, Anna?”
“I was worried about you.” Anna leaned forward, her gaze imploring as she caught Bryn’s eye. “You never came back on the line last night, and then you wouldn’t answer your phone. I was afraid something really bad had happened and I just… I wanted to be here for you if it had.”
“Anna…” Bryn shook her head. It would be so easy to give in to her instincts that were screaming at her to take Anna in her arms and kiss the worry from her expression. That was what she would do back home. But this was not home. In Washington, she could allow herself to feel, to show emotion, to give and receive affection—but not here. In Boston she needed to keep her guard up. Needed to keep the world at a distance because, here, it was not a friendly place. It was vicious and it had teeth, and if she showed even an ounce of weakness it would devour her whole.
She just needed to survive long enough to get back home so that she could be the woman she wanted to be instead of the one she was. She took a deep breath as she straightened her posture, rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin in a show of haughty defiance, and her heart broke a little at the way Anna flinched in response. “I tried to call you back while my father was in surgery, but my phone died and my charger was in my bag at the hotel.”
“Okay…” Anna murmured, nodding slowly. “But you said he’s doing well now?”
“He is.” Bryn looked around the cafeteria again, painfully aware of the fact that her mother could arrive at any moment. “Everything’s fine,” she reiterated in the cold, flat tone of voice that she had not used with Anna since the day they had first met. “I should be home in less than a week.”
“I don’t…” Anna took a deep breath and reached for Bryn, her fingers hovering over the curve of Bryn’s jaw for a split-second before Bryn pulled her head back and her hand fell back to her side. “Bryn?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Bryn said, shaking her head as she took a small step backward. The extra distance that step put between them was not much, but it was enough to drive her point home.
Anna recoiled as if she had been slapped, and Bryn bit her lip to keep from taking that truth back.
“Please,” Bryn whispered, the iciness in her voice thawing just enough to give a hint of how much pushing Anna away was hurting her. She crossed her arms over her stomach to keep from reaching for Anna, and swallowed hard. “I can’t be…” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you don’t belong here.”
“I didn’t come to out you to your family,” Anna said, staring at Bryn beseechingly. Her eyes were wide and pleading, begging for Bryn to let her in. “I just thought you might need a friend.”
Bryn nodded, not at all surprised that Anna figured out why she was being the way she was. But it did not matter. It did not matter that she wanted to let her walls down and throw herself into Anna’s arms. All that mattered was protecting the life she had in Washington. Protecting her happiness. Protecting Anna, who was standing in front of her looking like her heart was breaking. And to do that, to protect everything she truly cherished, she had to get Anna away from Boston. “I appreciate that. But you need to go.”
“Right,” Anna muttered, a hard edge creeping into her tone. “I’m getting that.”
“Anna…”
“No. It’s okay. I get it.” Anna smiled sadly at Bryn. “You’re not
ready. I should have known better than to do something like this. I just…” She sighed. “I thought…” She blew out a loud breath as she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Never mind.”
Bryn sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She knew she should just leave it, but there was something in Anna’s expression that made her ask, “What did you think?”
Anna shrugged as her eyes dropped back to Bryn’s. Instead of the warmth and affection Bryn was used to seeing in Anna’s gaze, there was only an aching hollowness that nearly brought Bryn to her knees. “That we had something special. That you could maybe…”
“What?” Bryn whispered.
“Nothing.” Anna shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She took a deep breath and fisted the strap of her backpack as she stood up straighter, clearly steeling herself for what she was about to say next. “I’m sorry I surprised you like this.”
Anna looked like she was preparing to leave, and while it was exactly what Bryn wanted her to do, her eyes still stung with tears. She did not want her to go, but she needed her to. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have come.”
There was a resignation in Anna’s voice that made Bryn’s stomach clench painfully, and she reached for the table for support as she asked, “Can I call you when I get back?”
“If you want,” Anna said with a small nod.
“I do.” Bryn blinked back the tears she could not allow to fall. “Anna, I…”
“It’s okay.” Anna smiled a sad, watery smile and shook her head as she took a definitive step back with her right foot. “Call me if you need me,” she said as she turned to go.
Bryn’s grip on the edge of the table tightened as she watched Anna walk away. Her knees felt like they might give out beneath her at any moment, but she was determined to appear strong should Anna turn around. She did not want this, but she knew that it was for the best.