Urgent Care

by C. J. Lyons

“But when do I get a say? All I’m asking is for Moses to—”

  “That place, it’s sucking the life out of you,” LaRose continued without pause, steamrolling over Gina’s words as if they were empty air. Which, of course, to LaRose, they were. “Look at you. Where has my beautiful, vibrant little girl disappeared to? Everything will be better when you start working with me at the foundation.”

  “What if I don’t join you at the foundation?” Gina could barely believe she’d spoken the words aloud—she’d thought them so often, she wasn’t even sure they’d made it past her lips until she saw LaRose’s expression harden.

  “Are you trying to blackmail your father into taking this ridiculous case? Do you seriously think those kind of bully tactics will work? Really, Regina.”

  Right. Leave the bullying to Moses. Not that LaRose wasn’t as practiced—she was just more subtle about it. Gina crossed her arms and settled into a slouch that earned her another disapproving glare. “Maybe I like working in the ER. Maybe I don’t want to leave.”

  “Ridiculous. Surely after two years of that place you’ve realized your mistake. A girl of your sensibilities isn’t suited to a life dealing with the dregs of humanity. I was watching you today, Regina. That place has ground the life out of you.” LaRose paused. “I’m worried about you.”

  Gina tried to think of a smart comeback, but couldn’t. Mainly because sometimes she thought the same thing. Life in the ER was grueling, and she wasn’t sure she was cut out for it. Worse, these past few days, after Ken’s talk, damn him, she realized that she wasn’t gambling with only her own life and happiness. She was gambling with the lives of her patients. And with Jerry’s happiness.

  “Once you leave that place and begin working with the foundation, you’ll see how much good people like Dr. Frantz really do. It’s important to reciprocate when possible.”

  “Like Moses refusing to sue Frantz in return for a juicy contribution to the foundation?”

  “It’s all about saving lives, helping people. Isn’t that why you went into medicine to start with?”

  “Tell me, Mother. What’s the going price on a girl’s life?”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Friday, 7:26 P.M.

  THIS WAS A HUGE MISTAKE, NORA DECIDED AS they finished an awkward dinner in silence. Even DeBakey seemed upset, pacing back and forth between his two humans, resting his chin on their knees, each in turn.

  She’d begun to clear the table when Seth jumped up to help and they collided, spilling the tray of leftover meat loaf.

  “Damn it!” She threw up her hands and stalked out to the living room. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Don’t leave,” Seth said, following her, abandoning the mess for DeBakey to slurp up. He tried to circle his arms around her in an embrace. She batted him away.

  “This was all a mistake. We were a mistake. I should have never told you. Should have never expected anyone could love me, not after—I mean, it haunts you, doesn’t it? Every time you touched me, you saw him, thought of his hands being there before you, his mouth . . .”

  “Nora, shut up!” Seth yelled.

  Nora stopped, her entire body shaking with anger, fear, loathing, emotions she couldn’t even begin to identify. But his tone quelled them all. Seth never yelled. Never. He might cuss a blue streak, whine, or moan and groan, but he never raised his voice—not to her, not during a trauma, not even when someone screwed up and things started to go wrong in surgery.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He stepped back and dropped into the sofa. “I’m so sorry. I kept trying to tell you . . .”

  “Tell me what, Seth? You going to confess to more lies? Why don’t you tell me the truth: that you didn’t want to stay with me after I told you about the rape? It would have saved us both—”

  “Because that’s not the truth. Whatever you believe or think about me, please believe me when I say that had nothing to do with it.”

  “Then what, Seth?”

  “It wasn’t you. It was me.”

  She groaned at the old chestnut but he ignored her, getting to his feet and pacing the room. DeBakey swung his head to and fro as he watched, clearly uncomfortable with the vibe given off by his two humans.

  “You know my family and their history with marriage. My dad’s on his second wife and they’re already separated. Mom’s on her third marriage. Both my sisters are divorced. None of them can get it right. And everyone gets hurt in the end. I kept thinking, what do I have to offer a woman like you? How the hell can I ever expect to make a marriage succeed when I don’t even have any concept of what a good relationship is?”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “I couldn’t face myself if I let you down, if I ever did something that hurt you so much that you’d want to leave me. So, just like with all my other relationships before you, I started to think that the best thing for everyone involved was to leave now, end it. . . .”

  “So you decided to just walk out? Decided that you never really loved me? Don’t worry, I guess I already figured it out for myself.”

  “No!” He lowered his voice. “No. I did love you. I do love you. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for months. I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t want to, I wanted to stay, to try to give it, give you, us, everything I had. Damn it, Nora. I was going to propose to you on July fourth!”

  “The same day I found you with Karen?” She didn’t believe him—although she wanted to. She couldn’t. It was just too damn easy, and the price she would pay if she was wrong was too damn high.

  “That’s when I started sleepwalking again. From the stress. I hadn’t done it since I was a kid. Whenever my parents began with the screaming, that’s when I’d wake up and find myself outside the house—hiding in the car, up in the tree fort, down the block at a friend’s house. Anywhere but at home with all the yelling and shouting.”

  He hung his head, but his hands remained on her shoulders. She felt his weight sag against her as if his words had sapped his energy. “Anyway, believe it or not, but it’s the truth. I love you Nora, I want us to be together—married, not married, I don’t care. I just know that”—he blew his breath out and raised his face to meet her gaze—“I need you. I don’t think I can be happy without you. But the big question is, can you be happy with me?”

  Wow. Nora’s insides did a slow somersault as if absorbing an unexpected blow. Double wow. He was worried about what she needed? About making her happy?

  All her life she’d been trained to put the needs of everyone else first, but here was a man, a man handsome enough that he could have any woman he wanted, and he wanted her? He needed her and wanted to make her happy?

  “Seth, I—” She stopped, trying to find words.

  “Please, don’t say anything. Just be with me tonight—even if it’s the last time we might ever be together, please stay tonight.”

  His tone of yearning melted her. She pulled him close and raised her face to his. It was a kiss as sweet as their first one. He gathered her in his arms, swept her up, and carried her into the bedroom, shutting the door before DeBakey could follow.

  AS SHE WALKED HOME, LYDIA TRIED CALLING Nora, but she wasn’t answering. Damn, she needed to warn her about Pete’s story. Or come up with some way to stop him.

  She shoved her phone back into her pocket and drew up short. The porch light was on, which meant Trey had replaced the burned-out bulb. Which meant Trey was home.

  She shook her head, trying to displace the nagging sense of disappointment and irritation. She still wasn’t used to the idea of coming home to someone else there, in her space. Not that she minded, she really didn’t . . . except she’d been hoping to reread the files Boyle had given her on her mother’s murder. She had a ton of questions she wanted to have him ask his friend in L.A.

  Couldn’t do any of that with Trey around. It felt strange to even think about Maria’s murder with him in the house. As if somehow the ghosts of her past and the promise of her future were
incompatible.

  Flinging such poetic nonsense aside, she opened the door and walked in. Ginger Cat sauntered from the dining room to greet her, followed by Trey.

  “How was your day?” she asked as she hung up her coat.

  He didn’t respond with his usual kiss and smile. Instead he looked as angry as he had this morning when he’d confronted her about her handgun.

  “When I got home, your gun was on the kitchen table.” His words were clipped, eyes narrowed.

  “Locked in its case.” She didn’t tell him that if she hadn’t rushed out to the hospital, she would have been carrying the Para Carry 9 instead.

  “Lydia. What if I’d brought one of the kids home with me?”

  She frowned, puzzled. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because they’re family.” He enunciated each word as if explaining a foreign concept to an alien. “If you’re going to keep a deadly weapon in the house, you need to be more careful.”

  Did he think she was an idiot? Of course she was careful. And when did her house become the house—as in his? Anger seeped into her veins, making her flush. She reined it in, resisting the urge to lash back, recognizing that much of her fury had nothing to do with Trey. It was more about Nora, about Karen, about Maria, about Narolie—all victims she could do nothing to help.

  Instead of answering Trey, she stalked past him to the kitchen and retrieved her gun case. Then she kept on going and headed out the garage door.

  “Lydia, wait!” Trey called from the doorway as she shoved the gun case into the saddlebags on the Triumph and straddled the bike.

  She gunned the engine, pivoted the bike, and sped out into the darkness.

  SETH SHUT THE DOOR BEHIND THEM AND GENTLY deposited Nora back onto her feet. He kept watching her as if he were afraid of her—no, for her. She hated the fear in his eyes almost as much as she hated the reason for its being there.

  She took a deep breath and realized that she wasn’t worried about what would happen next. How could she be? The worst had already happened. No more fear of being hurt—she’d already survived the worst she could imagine. No more fear of hurting Seth—she’d already done that. No more fear of her lies and secrets being unearthed—they were already exposed.

  For the first time in years she faced a night with no fear, no lies, no secrets. She felt giddy, light-headed, not sure of what to do with this newfound freedom.

  She turned back to Seth, startling him by pulling him close and kissing him deeply. He tensed at first, so she upped the ante and slid one hand down his chest and below the waistband of his jeans. He straightened, pulling away, although she could feel his arousal at her touch.

  “Nora. We don’t have to do this.”

  His words cemented her resolve.

  “Yes. We do,” she murmured, unsnapping his jeans. This time she was in charge. She held the power.

  Seth said nothing, but seemed to instinctively understand her need to take control.

  She shoved him back against the wall, her mouth ravaging his as she tore at the buttons on his shirt. He tried to help, but she batted his hands away, impatient to feel his flesh against hers. She pulled the shirt open, a stray button zinging past her as it tore loose, and tugged it halfway down over his shoulders, pinning his arms behind him. He squirmed, just enough to grind his pelvis against her.

  A small sound caught in her throat. She felt powerful, like an animal zeroing in on prey. Seth met her eyes, a smile lighting them, and she knew he was enjoying her usurping control almost as much as she was.

  Fettered by his shirt, he leaned back against the wall. She grabbed his hair, pulling him forward into a kiss. His mouth followed her fingers down her neck and chest as she eased out of her blouse. He had to bend at an awkward angle to take her breast, but she didn’t make it easy for him. She laughed, exulting in her power.

  Then she tugged at his jeans, pulling them and his boxers to his knees, effectively hobbling him. Only his mouth was free, trailing kisses over her chest and belly, wherever she steered him. She teased him without mercy, using her hands and mouth until he was so engorged he winced. “Please, Nora.”

  He was begging her. A thrill shot through her. She pushed him down to his knees, his erection jutting out from his hips.

  “Me first,” she commanded, standing over him, his mouth at her pelvis. Their gazes collided as he leaned forward and used his mouth on her. She braced herself against the wall, slapping her palms against it as the climax overwhelmed her. A cry mixed with giddy laughter sprang free from her lips. She dropped down, bracing herself on his shoulders as she lowered herself onto him. God, the way he filled her.

  Now face to face, their bodies rocked together. Her fingers dug into his skin, leaving indentations as she gripped his shoulders. They came together, a strangled gasp from him and a cry of release from her.

  The dog banged against the door, yelping at the noise, making them both collapse in laughter on the floor. Once she’d caught her breath, Nora stretched out, smiling as she watched him squirm free of his clothing. He flopped onto his back, one hand reaching out to her, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

  A feeling of warm contentment washed over her. Never had it felt like that before, so free, as if her body and mind had united with Seth’s in one glorious, perfect, brilliant moment.

  For the first time, Nora knew what making love really meant and understood why so many women lamented their infrequent orgasms. Jeez, she would give up sleep altogether, every night, if this was the way it made her feel.

  She glanced at Seth, surprised to see him blushing. And knew she could have this again, have it every night—if she wanted.

  LYDIA BARELY MADE IT TO THE END OF THE CUL-DE-SAC before hitting the brakes. The Triumph skidded on a patch of black ice, whirling her around like one of Trey’s dance moves. The lights of the neighbor’s Christmas lights spun around her as she wrestled with the bike for control. Finally she came to a stop, still upright. Barely.

  Idiot. No helmet, no coat, no gloves. What the hell had she been thinking? Even at this slow speed, if she’d hit her head on the curb, she’d be toast. Or at least her brain would be.

  Suddenly the icy air didn’t seem to have enough oxygen. She heaved in one breath after another, sweat breaking out on her exposed skin and immediately chilling her. Running wasn’t the answer—but it had always been her answer in the past.

  Running was Maria’s answer. Look how well things turned out for her.

  Shivering with cold and shaking with fear, Lydia turned the bike around and walked it back toward her house. Time to grow up. Stop running.

  Trey met her at the end of the driveway, wearing his coat, carrying hers. He didn’t say anything as he draped it around her shoulders and took the bike from her. He parked it in the carport and followed her into the house.

  Lydia kept her coat on, hugging herself as she tried to get warm. She walked through to the living room and turned on the gas fireplace, standing right in front of it, needing its warmth. Trey hung up his coat and slowly turned to her. It was difficult to read his expression; it held so many emotions.

  “That was stupid,” she started. “I’m sorry. I had a crappy day.”

  His expression cleared and he nodded, taking a step to meet her. “Want to tell me about it?”

  “Not really.”

  He curled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Finally, she began to feel warm again. Her exhaustion and confusion ebbed away, and she told him about the day spent with Nora and Jerry.

  “Why is it people keep turning to me for support? I don’t know what to say, what to do to comfort Nora. She’s been through hell—what can I say?”

  “People turn to you because you’re strong, Lydia.” He turned his face to plant a kiss on her forehead. “People can sense that. You’re a survivor.”

  “So is Nora. What that bastard did to her . . .” She shuddered, and he pulled her tighter to him. “I wish I had some answers for her. I never know
what to say that won’t make it worse. Thank God she has Amanda to talk to. Hell, even Gina does a better job than I do.”

  He chuckled at that. “Yeah, right. Because Gina just has so very much insight into the human condition.”

  “At least she knows how to fake it.”

  “See, there’s the difference. You can’t fake that kind of thing. It either comes from your heart or it doesn’t. With you, it’s not about the words but about the action. I can’t see Amanda or even Elise, forget about Gina, going into that house with Nora this morning. You were there for her; that counts for a lot.”

  “Just like you’re here for me.” She eased away from him, shed her coat, and sank onto the couch. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  He sat down beside her, not touching her, giving her the space she needed. She rubbed her fingers over Maria’s charm bracelet, tracing the chilled brass charms as if they held the power to erase memories.

  But what had happened to Maria could never be erased. No more running, she told herself, heaving in a deep breath.

  “It’s about my mother. You need to know how she died.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Friday, 8:53 P.M.

  GINA COULDN’T FACE GOING BACK TO HER HOUSE and telling Amanda that her parents weren’t going to help Narolie, so after leaving her mother, she drove to Jerry’s East Liberty apartment. Inside the foyer was a man carrying an armful of flowers. He was scrutinizing the apartment directory, his finger hovering between “G. Boyle” and “J. Boyen.”

  “Those are lovely,” she said, admiring the spray of lilies and roses. “Need help finding someone?”

  He gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks. The name is smudged on the order—got wet in the rain and snow, I guess. It could be either Boyle or Boyen, I’m not sure.”

  “Well, since Jerry is my boyfriend and I didn’t order him any flowers, I’m hoping they’re for Jenny Boyen. She lives across the hall from him, 5-F.”