It would mean sacrificing Nora. Lydia couldn’t tell Pete about Tillman without losing the ammunition she’d need to make the CEO stop Narolie’s deportation.
Nora was a friend. She’d already suffered so much—could Lydia stand by and let her suffer more if she could stop it? But Narolie had no one, and she was helpless, couldn’t fight her own battles.
“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” she muttered.
“Whatever you’re gonna do, make it fast. It’s freezing out here.”
Lydia stared at Pete’s rapacious expression. It didn’t inspire trust. No guarantee that even if she gave him Tillman, he wouldn’t still run the story about Nora.
Cold sliced through her like a dagger shoved between her ribs. “No comment.”
AS SOON AS HER SHIFT WAS FINISHED, GINA CALLED her parents’ house and left a message for LaRose and Moses that she was coming to dinner. A message was best—they couldn’t force her to change her mind or say no that way.
She changed from her scrubs and headed west out of the city to her parents’ Sewickley Heights home.
Home
was probably the wrong word—
estate
was more like it. Perched on a hillside overlooking the Allegheny Country Club, the white-brick mansion sprawled across the horizon with a sense of entitlement.
The drive leading up to the house was curved to make it feel twice as long as it was, and tree-lined so the house itself was hidden from view until the last curve was rounded. Then it sprang out at the unsuspecting visitor, dominating their view. As it was meant to.
Gina had outgrown such architectural sleight of hand, or so she thought. She was smarter now; she could handle her parents, deal with them on an even playing field.
“Where’s Moses?” she asked when she found LaRose alone in the drawing room.
“I sent him to the club. Thought we could have a little mother-daughter talk.”
“But I need to talk to Moses—”
“No, Regina, you don’t. Your father won’t be taking that girl’s case.”
Gina felt her cheeks chill as the blood rushed away from her face. “Why not?”
“Don’t be silly. You know very well why not. It’s totally inappropriate. Besides, it’s a frivolous case.”
“Frivolous? Frantz could have killed that girl. If Amanda hadn’t forced the issue—”
“Yes, your friend is quite passionate. She’s also very young and extremely naïve. Catherine told me Amanda was instrumental in introducing Harold to that girl. She was supposed to be taking care of critically ill patients, not playing match-maker.”
“Harold wasn’t critically ill—and according to your buddy, Frantz, neither was Narolie.”
“You’re missing the point. It’s all that time in that place, it’s warped your perspective. I mean, did you have to humiliate Catherine like that? In front of everyone?”
“I’m a doctor; I made a diagnosis, asked a colleague to confirm it, and treated the patient appropriately. What’s to be humiliated about? How do you know about Tank’s diagnosis unless you were eavesdropping?”
“My point exactly. Pulling a curtain shut doesn’t guarantee a patient privacy—and for such a delicate issue, you should have taken them back to a real room, had some consideration—”
“Right. It was so inconsiderate that the patients using those rooms were there first. Or I could have left my patients, taken your friends back up to the ICU, and used the private room there. The room that Amanda’s patient should have had to begin with.”
“You have no idea what Catherine has been through. She’s trying to save her family—”
“She might try starting with listening to her son, seeing what’s really going on with his life!”
LaRose waved away Gina’s concerns about Tank. “Regina, your attitude, please. I’m trying to help here, I really am. You need to understand that every decision your father and I make is for the good of the family. That includes you.”
“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.