I turn the key in the ignition, and the car starts up. I put it in gear and press on the gas pedal. Then I look in the rearview mirror as I pull away from his building and smile, thinking about returning to him tonight. Until then, I will push through today, get lost in the need to save lives, and help those I have been trained and educated to help.

  This morning . . . definitely better than Folgers.

  I sit down in the break room and sigh. From the moment I walked through the door, it has been nonstop. Normally, I love a day like this. When we are busy, time flies by. Add three MVAs (motor vehicle accidents) to an average day, and I am already exhausted.

  I pull my phone from my scrubs pocket and re-read the text message Jason sent me this morning. It was simply, Have a great day, angel.

  Angel, I love it when he calls me that. I love it when he calls me Lo, too. I love how safe he makes me feel. I love that he wants me.

  I know I will never be normal, but I also know the chances of feeling somewhat normal are far better outside of that house.

  He was right; I need to get the house on the market. I need to do it now. Therefore, I Google realtors, and Rock City Real Estate is the first to pop up. When they answer, I tell them I would like to sell my house and give them the information. I explain the fair market value is fine as the house will be “as is.” I don’t tell them it’s because I don’t want to spend anymore time there. I don’t tell them about the triple slaughter of a family. I don’t tell them any of that. I can’t.

  An appointment is set for them to come out and take pictures. I make it for the evening of my day off, hoping Jason will be there with me.

  I don’t want to do it alone.

  I don’t want to be alone.

  Not anymore.

  I sit and stare at the phone and read his message again.

  Have a great day, angel.

  Five words, just five, that make me feel like I matter.

  Have a great day, angel.

  God, how am I going to do this without him knowing? How will I be able to look at him and lie if he asks any more questions?

  Have a great day, angel.

  How am I going to leave him when it’s time? Things have to be made right and I can’t stop Hi, and really . . . . I don’t want to, revenge is a necessity.

  Have a great day, angel.

  Now that he knows what I am doing, it has become real, I no longer can hide behind Hi. Hi is no angel, and now neither am I.

  “Code Blue,” squeaks over the intercom, and I welcome the chaos outside my own.

  Sitting at the desk, entering patient information, I look up when I see Dr. Bennett walking toward me. He isn’t relaxed and all smiles; he looks pensive, concerned, very much unlike himself.

  “How are you, Lorraine?” he asks, setting his tablet down and sitting next to me.

  “Busy.” I smile. “It’s been a crazy day. How are you?”

  “Concerned about you.”

  “Don’t be. I am actually doing very well.” I lean in and whisper, “I put the house on the market today.”

  “Good, then you’ll come home?”

  I look down. I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. I can’t go back to his home, their home. I can’t go back to living the twisted life I lived while I was there. I also can’t explain it to him, because he doesn’t know what Ryan and Hi were doing. Sam’s a good man and would never understand. He took me in in good faith not realizing Heidi was along for the ride, but at the time, I didn’t know that either.

  “I understand that you are asserting your independence, and no one appreciates that more than I do. I appreciate and respect that.”

  I can’t look at him and see the sadness. He and his wife have been nothing but good to me. I can’t imagine how disappointed he would be if he ever knew. I suspect Rochelle, Ryan’s stepsister, knows.

  Rochelle was kind to me at first whenever she was home from college. She was kind to me for a long time. Then . . . she wasn’t.

  I remember the night I was in his bed, and she walked in Ryan’s room. I didn’t see her, only heard her.

  “I knew it! I—”

  She stops when Ryan flies off me and out of the bed. I cover myself with the blanket, terrified that we have been discovered. I don’t know what to do.

  Several minutes later, I hear the door open then shut and lock.

  Ryan slides back into bed, and I start to get up.

  “Don’t go. We weren’t finished, Heidi.”

  “She saw us,” I gasp.

  “She saw a brunette in my bed. She didn’t see you,” he says, pushing his hand between my legs and inserting two fingers. “The wig is actually perfect. You can be Heidi for me and you.”

  “This has to stop,” I tell him.

  “You’re so wet, though, love. Let’s not deny us. This can be the last time.” He lowers the blanket and hovers over me. “Don’t hold back. Do it like her. For you, for me, for all of us.”

  After that night, I never felt comfortable in the house again, even though he assured me Rochelle knew nothing. Every time we were together, him always Ryan, me always Heidi, I worried.

  The late morning is filled with sick children. I hate to see kids in pain and ill. It used to bother me more when the babies came in. They can’t tell you what is wrong with them, and they don’t understand why you aren’t helping them. If that’s not enough, they look at you like you are evil. At least with older children, they can tell you where the pain is.

  I walk into a room with a mother and child. The child’s teeth are chattering, and she is whining. The mother holds her close, trying to comfort her.

  As soon as I close the door behind me, the mother looks up.

  “She has a hundred and four temperature. She’s been vomiting for two days. This is our second trip to the ER. Why can’t you help her?” I hear panic in her voice.

  My instinct is to ask her to stay calm. Her child needs her to stay calm.

  “I’m sorry. Let me look at the chart.” I click on the tablet and see that she was at an urgent care center two days prior. “Kelsey was diagnosed with a virus?”

  “Yes, but nothing has helped. Alternating pain relievers is a joke. I’m sure she is vomiting them up.”

  “Kelsey, can you tell me if there is pain specific to a spot?”

  “My tummy,” she cries. “Everywhere.”

  “When the pain started, where did it start? Can you remember?” I ask.

  “My stomach,” she whimpers.

  I look at her mother. “Did they run labs or do any scans?”

  “No. They said it was a virus and to wait it out. There was nothing they could do about it.”

  “Okay, let me grab the doctor.”

  I walk out in the hall and see Dr. Bennett. “Room 18 has a little girl. She can’t eat; she has a fever; and she has been vomiting. They went to urgent care and were told it was viral and sent home. No lab work or scans. Her pain started in her stomach.”

  “You disagree?” he asks, tapping on his tablet.

  “I think they should have done something to rule out appendicitis,” I answer.

  He smiles and nods as he walks toward the room. “That’s my girl. Thank you.” Dr. Bennett is unlike many of the doctors I have worked with. He actually believes in his nurses’ abilities and judgment. Most of the others think they know everything. The God complex.

  He opens the door. “I’m Dr. Bennett, Kelsey. I want to get some pictures of your tummy, okay?”

  When he walks out of the room a few minutes later, he looks for me and nods. I walk over to him.

  “I ordered scans for her, and I agree with you. My guess is appendicitis. Good job, Lorraine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Get her hooked up to an IV, recheck her vitals, and if radiology isn’t already here waiting for you to finish, then you and I will take her there.”

  Less than half an hour later, Kelsey is being wheeled to the surgical floor. Accompanying the surgeon is the other Dr. Bennett, Dr. Ryan Bennett, son to Dr. Sam and Sarah Bennett. He smiles at me then turns his back and puts his hand on Kelsey’s mom’s shoulder. I assume he’s comforting her before her daughter is put under the scalpel.

  It is calm enough now in the ER that I am able to think about catching up on paperwork.

  Walking toward the desk, I see the older Dr. Bennett motion me over.

  “Come to dinner this week. Promise at least that.”

  “I’ll give it some thought. I need to sort everything out with the house being on the market,” I tell him in hopes to appease him.

  Completely out of character for him, Dr. Bennett reaches out and hugs me. “You belong with us. Come home, and we can help you with the house and deciding what comes next.”

  After a moment, I back away. “I know.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Watch yourself,” Brock says, leaving me at the café. “Don’t mix up one obsession with another.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Sure,” he remarks.

  I shrug my shoulders and make my way to my car. I have a chef salad for Lo that I need to get to the hospital before my hour is over. She seems more relaxed at my place, but Brock’s words hit me in the stomach.

  I don’t want Lo to be a replacement for anything in anyone’s eyes.

  Missy and I were long done; I just didn’t want to face it. We were so bad for each other. Love shouldn’t be pain. Tatiana told me that. I can see it now. If you love someone, you should swallow your pride at times and walk away, not push until the evil spews out.

  Once upon a time, we had a chance for something, but it wasn’t meant to be. She’s a crazy bitch, yet I do hope she finds someone to balance her instead of push her.

  I know that’s what I need. I don’t need someone who gets off on my anger. I need someone who knows when to pull my head out of my ass and also when to back off and let me come around on my own. I see that potential in Lo. I see the good we could be for each other.

  Brock’s wrong. It’s not replacing one obsession with another; it’s holding on to hope. It’s holding on to the idea that, as dark as I am inside, there is a light and a chance I can break the cycle.

  Rushing inside, I don’t pay attention when I hit the check-in station to get buzzed back to the emergency department for Lo. When a dark-haired woman steps from behind a desk to grab my arm before I head to the door, I am shaken into the moment. Her eyes meet mine and I need her to let me go. With a wink and a dreamy kind of smile, the lady clicks the button, opening the door.

  At the station, I see Lo talking to none other than Dr. Bennett. Fury fills me as I walk up to him talking about her coming home again.

  “I’ll give it some thought. I need to sort everything out with the house being on the market,” she softly replies with her back to me.

  His eyes meet mine as he pulls her to him for a hug. “You belong with us. Come home and we can help you with the house and deciding what comes next.”

  She backs away. “I know.”

  Two words and I feel like everything is for nothing.

  Why did I ever think I could hold on to something good even if it’s tangled up in a mess? She knows? What does she know? She knows she belongs with them? She’s wrong; she belongs with me.

  Setting the Styrofoam container on the counter beside them, I don’t speak as she looks over her shoulder at me. I won’t push her. I have done that before, and it ended up killing a piece of me and Missy. Pushing each other only destroyed what once had the potential to be something beautiful.

  “Jason,” she says with a smile, not knowing I heard their little chat. Dr. Bennett knows, though. He stands there smugly without giving me time with her in private.

  I take her by the waist and pull her to me, kissing her temple, and she moves into me with a soft sigh.

  “Brought you lunch. I’ve gotta get back to work.”

  She blinks up at me, her angel eyes calming the monster inside me. “Okay, thank you. I’ll see you at home.” She slips out of my embrace, and I stare at her.

  “Is it home?” I whisper then turn away to leave.

  “Jason,” she calls out, and I turn to look over my shoulder. “With you, it is.”

  “Remember that, then,” I say before I stroll away. I feel her eyes on me, but I refuse to look back again.

  Going back to work, I’m amped up. What is the Bennett family’s deal? Why the obsession with Lorraine? Heidi was Ryan’s woman, and she is dead. I get the connection, but these people are taking it too far.

  The more I’m around Lo, the more I want to protect her, the more I need to provide for her, and the more I simply need her.

  Taking off mid-afternoon, I head to the gym. I’m in the locker room, wrapping my hands, when I see movement out of the corner of my eye. The tattoo taunts me. In seconds, I’m up and slamming him into a locker before he can react.

  “You and your fucking crew knocked me out and left me.” I press my forearm into his throat as he tries to pull me off.

  “Hey, man, I didn’t know they would do that. You had me; they handled it.” His knee comes up and connects with my balls.

  I back up and fight to catch my breath. He’s not quick enough, and I recover, slamming him back into the lockers, making the metal clang again.

  “Cheap shot, cheating ass, bitch boy. Watch yourself, Chainz. There won’t be a next time for you to get me down.”

  Brock comes in and pulls me off him. “Not here, man. You know they won’t tolerate damages and insurance shit.” He looks at Chainz. “Not so tough when you don’t have your boys at your back. Watch yourself.”

  Chainz spits at Brock. “You should watch yourselves, Brock. That spitfire redhead who warms your bed sure would be fun to break.” He taunts my friend and sparring partner with his fight name.

  He looks at me as Brock reaches up, latching his hand around his throat. “Heard you wrapped yourself up in a crazy one, Cobra.”

  “If you come near either of them, I’ll make sure you never enter a gym or fight again. I’ll fuck you up so badly you won’t make it out of the hospital on your own two legs,” Brock warns, releasing him with marks on his neck just as the door opens and a trainer walks in.

  “Problems?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Chainz.

  “Nah, just having a chat,” he answers smartly.

  With a shoulder bump, he pushes past us. I see the flare of Brock’s nostrils. As wound up as he is, this should be a damn good session. Chainz crossed a line with me and my man that he shouldn’t have. Brock will make sure he gets the message, too.

  Two hours later, I’m sweating, my heart is pounding, my muscles burn, and my face, ribs, and legs all hurt. Brock stood toe-to-toe with me and maintained power on the ground. We were evenly matched in every round.

  Cooling down, we walk the gym, trying to get our breathing regulated and hearts to slow out of cardio rate.

  “How’s it feel?” he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. “Going home to someone who isn’t ready to start a fight every two seconds.”

  I sigh. I have been so in the moment I didn’t stop to let myself think of how it feels. I don’t dread going home anymore.

  Home.

  I have never given a thought to being at home until now. My entire life has been spent wanting to avoid being at home. First, it was because of my father and then because Missy would spend her days deciding what I did wrong for our nights.

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight for a while. The quiet and inability to release my stresses physically was going to kill me.

  Having never had a normal family life, I guess I never knew what a real relationship should be. Maybe this is the feeling I should have had all along. Though Lo is still far from normal, but we’ll fix that.

  “Damn good,” I answer with a smile.

  “She’s got some magic in those angel eyes.” He laughs. “You’ve never smiled this much.”

  “Fuck off,” I give back to shut him up.

  He’s right, though. I have never been this relaxed or happy, which means I better find a way to hold on to it. I also need her to find herself and move beyond what happened to her family. All of this brings me back to needing to know if my father set them up.

  She told me she was late that night. If she had been there on time, she wouldn’t be here to be my angel now. There is no doubt in my mind she couldn’t have saved them. She would be just as dead as her family.

  Brock and I hit the showers then leave the gym. I feel both exhausted and energized. I’m not already halfway angry going home, something I haven’t felt in so long the feeling is odd to me.

  I make my way inside and find Lo cooking in the kitchen.

  Going up behind her at the stove, I turn off the burners. She looks at me, but before she can speak, my lips crash down on hers.

  “You give me good, Lo. I’m gonna give you the only good I have,” I growl into her ear as I push her pants down.

  She steps out of them, holding on to my shoulders for balance. “You okay, Jason?”

  I back her to the countertop. “I need you, need to feel you, need to be one with you. I realized some shit today. You’ve gotta know, Lo, that you and me . . . This is it.”

  I release my cock from my pants, not bothering with my shirt or hers as I slide into her, holding her up by her ass. I take all her weight easily and rock my hips, rolling to her sweet spot.

  “This is home.” I slide back out, then in. “Home,” I growl, and she moans. “Say it,” I command as I drag my cock almost all the way out, teasing her entrance. “Tell me this is home for you.”

  She moves her hands from around my neck to cup my face. “This is home,” she whispers with her angel blue eyes locking on to mine as she drops her hips, taking my cock deep inside her. “Home,” she mewls.

  I can’t hold back. I pick up my pace, my body breaking out in a new sweat. This may be the biggest mistake of my life, but I can’t be without her.

  I slide in and out as she trembles around me, her orgasm building.

  “Home,” I grind out as I thrust two more times toward my own climax as she reaches hers and slumps against me in satisfaction.