Love On Call

“Really? Why is that?”

“Glenn leaving the hospital before nine at night for any reason other than softball is newsworthy.”

Mari smiled. She liked knowing Glenn’s friendly overtures had been unusual. “She was kind enough to keep me from starving.”

“Uh-huh. Anyhow, when Glenn mentioned your name, I didn’t see how it could be a coincidence. You’re from the West Coast, right? LA?”

“That’s right. I’ve lived there all my life. What about you?”

“I grew up in San Francisco. Where our moms did.”

“My mother did grow up in Northern California, but she never talked about her family except to say they were all gone. I’m sorry, is your mother deceased?”

“My mom?” Carrie’s eyes glowed. “Not by a long shot. She’s a political organizer, and when she’s not doing that, she’s the head of a large community food service, a nonprofit that provides meals to homeless and underprivileged people. My dad is a philosophy professor at Berkeley.”

“Our families couldn’t be more different,” Mari said. “My mother and father own a small grocery store and, other than going to church, don’t do much else.”

“Mine are sort of next-generation hippies, like my grandmom, but I don’t think they’re called hippies anymore,” Carrie said.

Mari’s head was starting to spin. “Well, that can’t be right, then, about us being related. I don’t have any relatives on my mother’s side. She told me that, told all of us kids that, whenever we asked about our other grandparents.”

“Your mom’s name is Diane, right? And your father is Hermano Mateo?”

“Yes, that’s right. That’s all in my hospital paperwork—”

“Oh, I didn’t get it from there,” Carrie said quickly. “That’s private information. I know because my mother told me about her sister’s family, the ones she’s not supposed to have any contact with.”

“But why?” Mari asked, her confusion turning to hurt. Could this really be true? Could her mother have actually lied to her about something so important? Could she really know so little about her parents? She’d thought the foundation of her life couldn’t get any shakier, but now she wasn’t so sure. “Why would my mother pretend to have no one?”

“Well, this is the part that I hope doesn’t cause problems, but apparently your dad didn’t get along with my mother and father. They’re atheists and socialists, and like I said, modern-day hippies, I guess. And your dad is pretty…um, traditional.”

Mari snorted. “That would be putting it rather mildly. My dad is extremely conservative and both my parents are very religious. But I can’t believe my mother would just break off ties with her sister because my father didn’t get along with her.”

“Well, she didn’t, not really. They talk on the phone at least a couple times a year, and I think this past year they might have even FaceTimed. However they manage it, my mom knows the names of her sister’s children. That would be you and your brothers and sister. So when I heard your name, I just had to believe that it was you.”

“Oh my God,” Mari whispered. “I can’t believe there’s—are there more of you, more of my mother’s family?”

“There’s my baby sister, Kelly, and I have an uncle James, so he would be your mom’s older brother. Your uncle. He lives in the UK and I don’t see him very often. He’s gay, and he and his husband moved there, gosh, probably twenty years ago. I guess I don’t have to point out where the problem would be there.”

“No,” Mari said softly. “You don’t.”

“My mom thought it was important for me to know that there was more family, even though she said we’d probably never meet face-to-face. That’s how I knew about all of you. I called her last night.”

“I don’t really believe in coincidences like this,” Mari muttered, but she couldn’t disbelieve the story, either. “We certainly don’t look anything alike.”

“I’ve seen pictures of our moms when they were younger, and they look a lot alike, but my dad is as Irish as they come and I got most of my coloring from him.”

“And I got mine from my father.”

Carrie nodded. “I love your hair, by the way. It looks like thick black velvet.”

“Thanks. I love yours. I always wanted curls like that.”

“It’s funny how we always think we want someone else’s hair.”

Mari grinned. “I can’t believe we’re cousins. I have others, most of them are in Mexico, though.”

“I’m not totally sure it’s coincidence, you ending up here, I mean.” Carrie fiddled with the cellophane wrapper of her sandwich. “My mom told your mom that I moved here because Presley’s company had purchased the hospital. Mom thought your mom might have said something to one of your old instructors about the new program here.”

“My mom? God, I can’t see her doing that,” Mari said, but she wasn’t really sure about anything any longer. She clearly didn’t really know her mother at all. Her program director had visited a lot, especially when she’d first gotten sick, and had helped her parents understand the medical system and the barrage of treatments that came on in rapid succession. Her parents liked him, and they’d become friendly enough she could almost imagine her mother mentioning something to him. She didn’t really know her parents at all, as she’d learned the hard way the last year. If her mother had been keeping a secret relationship with her sister all these years, one that Mari’s father disapproved of, she wasn’t nearly as passive and nonconfrontational as she’d always appeared.

“I don’t know whether to be angry at my mother, proud of her, or just plain sad.”

“It seems pretty terrible from the outside,” Carrie said, “but I guess we can’t ever know that whole story.”

“Well however it came about, I’m really happy to be here,” Mari said, “and I’m really happy to meet you too.”

“I know, it’s great, isn’t it?” Carrie touched her hand tentatively. “I hope I haven’t upset you by telling you all of this.”

Mari shook her head. “You haven’t. And crazy as it all sounds, somehow I can totally believe it. Nothing you told me seems too impossible given the way a lot of things happen in my family.”

“Now that you’re here, we’ve got to spend more time together. Glenn probably told you about softball. Do you play, by any chance?”

“Oh my God, you too?” Mari groaned jokingly. “Glenn mentioned you pitched. I don’t play. I hope you’ll overlook that.”

Carrie squeezed her hand. “That’s okay, you’re forgiven. After all, you’re family.”

Chapter Thirteen

Glenn’s shift had been over for an hour, but they’d gotten hit with the late-afternoon rush that happened sometimes in the summer when everyone was reluctant to interrupt their vacation or poolside relaxation to deal with the irritating cough or persistent pain or low-grade fever that had been plaguing them all day. She didn’t mind working late, and today she had a good excuse. She would have hung around anyhow to interact with the new staff and to see how her students did on a night rotation. Sometimes, the different kinds of cases that showed up when the sun started to go down could be a challenge. Fewer consultants were readily available, and often, the first one to evaluate the patient made more critical decisions out of necessity. Great training, but overwhelming at times for a newbie. She’d just finished signing off on her last patient when she got the text from Flann to meet her in the cafeteria. She passed Abby and Mari, who also had stayed late without being asked, on her way out.

“Staff meeting tonight,” Abby called.

Glenn slowed and turned. “Yeah. Planning to be there. Flann just gave me a page, so I’m going to meet her first.”

Abby laughed. “If she’s trying to get you back in the OR already, tell her no.”

Glenn grinned, her gaze flicking to Mari, who smiled as if enjoying the banter. “I’ll do my best to resist.”

“You do that,” Abby ordered.

Glenn sent Mari a questioning look. “Going to the meeting?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“See you.” Glenn strode through the busy halls, puzzling over Mari. She’d been aware of her all day, even when they weren’t actually engaged. She knew where she was, like a little homing beacon in her head blinking in the background, which hadn’t happened since she’d been deployed. Then she knew where everyone in her unit was every minute, acutely aware she might be called upon at any second to take care of an unexpected injury. She didn’t have any reason to be that tuned in to Mari’s presence—she wasn’t worried about Mari settling in to the ER routine, she’d done that the first day, and she wasn’t concerned about Mari’s clinical abilities. Mari had been right—she was well trained and lacked the usual fresh-out-of-training dangerous tendency to make snap judgments. She was confident but careful, the perfect combination as far as Glenn was concerned. Given all that, she had no reason to be any more conscious of Mari than any of the other new staff throughout the day, but she was. That alone should have felt strange and unfamiliar, but even more unsettling was she found herself thinking throughout the day about when she’d have a chance to talk to her or maybe grab another meal again. Something else that had never happened to her before. Irritated, Glenn shrugged the tangle of thoughts aside. Since when had she wasted time studying her own navel—she had work to do after all, and Flann was waiting.

The coffee urn was warm and the coffee smelled new when she poured herself a cup. Flann and Harper, who she hadn’t expected, were already ensconced at their usual table in the back corner, Flann in scrubs and Harper in her typical button-down-collar shirt and khaki pants. Glenn dropped into the free chair at the table and nodded to her friends. “What’s up?”

Harper nodded a greeting and shot Flann a questioning look. “You called us here, so it’s your show. Is there some kind of problem?”

Flann looked uncharacteristically uneasy for an instant, and Glenn finally pegged her expression—not uneasy, shy. Huh. That couldn’t be right. Even in the midst of a FUBAR, Flann Rivers was never anything except exuberantly confident. So what could be worse than an effed-up beyond all repair situation? Harper studied her sister with the same slightly curious expression as Glenn.

“Well, the thing is,” Flann said, “I wanted to tell the two of you together that Abby and I are going to get married.” She glanced at Harper. “A few weeks after you and Presley, so, you know, it doesn’t steal your thunder.”

Harper laughed. “Jeez, you think that’s going to matter to us? Congratulations, but what took you so long?”

Flann grinned a little sheepishly. “I wanted to go for it this weekend, but Abby says no.”

“She’s right—but not because of us,” Harper said. “Your wedding should be an event all on its own, not a hurry-up thing, with all the bells and whistles. And don’t let her convince you small is fine. Once in a lifetime, Flann—give her a day to remember.”

“Right. Got it. Big and splashy.”

Harper laughed. “There you go. Perfect.”

“That’s great, Flann,” Glenn said, not at all surprised that her good friend wanted to formalize her relationship with Abby. Flann had always been a player, but she’d never fallen before. And when she did, like everything else in her life, she went all the way. “Anything you need, let me know.”

Flann cleared her throat. “Well, actually, that’s why I wanted to tell the two of you together.”

Harper’s brows drew down and she studied Flann intently. “What’s bugging you?”

Flann took a breath. “I want Glenn to stand up with me, and I thought—”

“Hey,” Glenn said quickly, “I’m totally honored, but you know, Harp’s your sister and—”

“No, Glenn,” Harper cut in, “I think you’re exactly the right person. I love you, Flann, and you know damn well I’ll always be there, but Glenn…she’s really the only one who can actually put up with you on a daily basis.”

Flann barked a laugh, and Glenn smothered a smile.

“She’s earned it,” Harper said.

“Here’s the deal.” Flann ran a hand through her hair, her gaze cutting from Harper to Glenn. “There’s a lot of things I’ve done in the last few years I don’t think I could’ve done without Glenn, but Harp has shown me the road for most of my life.”

Glenn glanced at Harper. On the day her last tour had ended, she’d sworn she’d go lone wolf, that she’d never let anyone close enough to lose a piece of herself if anything happened to them. She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s well-being again, in any way. But in the three years she’d spent by Flann’s side, working together, struggling together, sometimes losing together, she’d broken her own promise to herself. Flann was her best friend, and whatever she needed, whenever she needed it, Glenn would be there for her. “Whatever you want, I’m good with it.”

“Totally,” Harper said.

Flann blew out a breath. “So you two will both stand up with me?”

“For sure.” Harper grinned at Glenn. “We’re good, right?”

“Absolutely,” Glenn said.

“Thanks,” Flann said. “That was harder than waiting for Abby to say yes.”

“Which took, what, all of a second?” Harper teased.

“About that, yeah,” Flann said with her usual cocky flair.

“Does Blake know yet?” Harper asked.

“No, Abby and I are gonna tell him after I tell Mom and Dad.”

“Once Margie knows,” Harper said, “he’ll know. You know the two of them share everything, so you probably need to make it simultaneous.”

“Right.” Flann shook her head, smiling wryly. “I sort of wonder what’s going on with those two, but I don’t actually know how to ask.”

“Does it matter?” Harper asked.

“Only because I don’t want to see either one of them get hurt.”

“You can’t protect them from falling in or out of love,” Harper said. “Most everybody gets their heart broken at that age. Hell, I did regularly.”

Glenn hadn’t, but she’d never had a girlfriend in high school, or after that, either. She’d had hookups. She had natural urges, after all, and being in the kind of stressful day-to-day environment where life was pretty much on an hour-to-hour basis, the need to connect just to feel you had a little bit of a grip on life was even more urgent. But since she’d been back, there hadn’t been anyone.

“It’s never easy,” Flann agreed, “but I know Blake is already taking flak about being trans and Margie along with him. I just want to make sure no matter what, they’re okay.”

“We’ll all look out for them,” Glenn said quietly.

“Yeah,” Harper said, “but we have to let them tell us what they want us to know, if and when there’s anything to tell.”

Flann rubbed her face. “This parenting business is really tough. And I got one half-grown-up already.”

“Hey,” Harper said, “why don’t you and Abby do the announcement thing on Sunday at family dinner. Then we’ll all be there.” She glanced at Glenn. “And you too, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Perfect.” Harper dusted her hands. “That way everybody gets it at once, problem solved.”

Flann nodded. “Sounds good to me. Abby can decide if we should tell Blake first.”

“I suppose we better head to the staff meeting,” Harper said, grinning. “Presley will not be happy if I’m late.”

Glenn stood, wondering if she’d be in time to grab a seat with Mari.

*

The staff meeting was the first Mari had ever attended, since she’d had no reason to think much about the actual running of a hospital during her training. This one surprised her. The meeting started exactly on time, for one thing. She’d been watching for Glenn and saw her slip in just a few seconds before half past seven with Flannery Rivers and another woman who looked very much like Flannery except for her opposite coloring. She must be the other Dr. Rivers—Harper. When Glenn and Flann took seats, Harper went on to the front of the room and joined an elegant-looking blonde in a bottle-green suit at the narrow podium. Mari didn’t need anyone to tell her this was Presley Worth. She exuded authority simply by the way she scanned the room with a combination of command and camaraderie.

The CEO was as impressive as everyone had made her out to be. Presley quickly and concisely brought everyone up to date with the various plans for expansion of the physical hospital as well as the new ER residency and other training programs under way. A ripple of excitement moved through the audience, and something else that Mari recognized after a while…hope. She’d known that everyone had lived under the threat of the hospital closing for quite some time, but she hadn’t appreciated how important the hospital was to so many people in the community. Not just because a significant percentage worked there, but because the institution represented a huge piece of the history of the town. Even though there had to be newcomers like Mari, she bet the majority of those crowding into the dome-ceilinged, wood-paneled auditorium had been born there, or their parents had been.

Strangely, she didn’t feel like an outsider. She hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable in such a small-town environment after growing up in one of the biggest cities in the world, but she did. Just by virtue of being part of the hospital, she had become part of the community. By the time the meeting was over, she felt even more a part of her new world. The homesickness and sadness drifted a little more into the background with each passing day.

As she made her way outside an hour later, she heard her name and turned to see Glenn coming after her with quick, sure strides. Mari waited, a swift surge of anticipation coursing through her.

“Hi,” Glenn said. “Walking home?”

“Yes.”

“Mind company?”

“Of course not,” Mari said quickly, “although you don’t need to feel you have to. It’s perfectly safe.” She laughed. “Not even a hint of rain.”

“I know, but I’ve been cooped up all day and I’d like to stretch my legs, unless you want to be alone.” Glenn shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and, for the first time ever, appeared less than absolutely confident.

“No, I don’t,” Mari said quietly. “I’d love the company.”

“What did you think of the meeting?” Glenn asked as they started down the winding hillside. Cars streamed past them, the staff heading home after the meeting.

“It certainly sounds like it’s a busy time around here,” Mari said. “An exciting one too.”

“A lot of change all at once. Somehow, Presley has convinced everyone that she can work miracles, and I think she probably can.”

“I’m convinced, and I’ve only heard her speak once,” Mari said. “I could feel the sense of purpose everyone had, as if everyone counted. She made everyone feel essential.”

“Everyone is,” Glenn said. “Speaking of essential, are you sure you’re not up for trying a little friendly softb—”

“Trust me. Very sure.” Mari laughed. “But I will come cheer as promised.”

“Good enough. We can head over after work tomorrow—maybe grab something to eat first if you want.”

Mari hesitated. She’d never actually had a date with a woman, and she didn’t think Glenn was actually asking her out, but her voice disappeared on a swell of excitement all the same. She swallowed quickly. “Sure. Sounds great.”

By the time they neared the end of the road, darkness had fallen and only the occasional headlight slashed across their path. When they turned onto Main Street, Glenn asked, “How did things go today? Any problems?”

“No, at least not in the ER.” Mari hadn’t had time to really assimilate everything Carrie had told her, but throughout the afternoon their conversation kept coming back to her along with the disquieting knowledge that she didn’t really know her family after all.

“Something wrong?” Glenn asked quietly.

“No, not really.” Mari sighed. “Well, yes, sort of. I’m not really sure yet. The strangest thing happened today—maybe you already know about it. Carrie came by to talk to me.”

“Carrie?” Glenn frowned. “No, why would I know what she had to say?”

“Oh, I thought maybe you and Carrie…” Mari suddenly felt foolish. “Sorry, never mind.”

“Carrie and me? Oh.” Glenn didn’t laugh or seem put out, just contemplative. “No…we’re friends, but not that way. If that’s what you meant.”

“Oh Lord, I am sorry,” Mari said in a rush. “It’s certainly none of my business one way or the other.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal. Anyhow, what happened?”

“It seems that Carrie and I are related. We’re cousins.”

Glenn stopped walking. “What? How is that possible—and you didn’t know?”

“That’s exactly the way I feel.” Mari threw up her hands. “It seems my mother and Carrie’s mother are sisters, and they’ve been carrying on a secret relationship all these years—keeping each other updated about their families, about us kids and who knows what else—while my mother has pretended that she doesn’t have any family.”

“Why?”

Mari sighed, partly embarrassed and partly angry. “Apparently because my father doesn’t approve of Carrie’s parents and convinced my mother to sever ties with them. Or pretend she had.”

“Wow. That’s hard.”

“If it’s true, and I don’t have any reason to think it isn’t, it’s more than that.” Mari’s chest throbbed with suppressed outrage. “It’s selfish and cruel to deprive my mother of her family, to deprive all of us of our family.”

“Are you going to ask your mother?”

“I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to bring it up. We’re not really communicating at all since I told them about myself.” She tightened her shoulders as if that would make the psychic blow less painful. “They didn’t even call me before I left to move here even though I left messages. I sent them all my new contact information and haven’t heard anything—not even an email.”

“I’m really sorry.” Glenn’s hand briefly swept down the center of her back and then was gone, a fleeting comforting touch.

“I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter, and truthfully, every day it hurts a little bit less, but then something like this comes up and I wonder how much of my life has been a lie.”

“Not on your account, and you’re doing everything you can to make it truth,” Glenn said quietly.

“You know, I’m beginning to really understand how hurtful and destructive secrets can be.”

Glenn couldn’t disagree, even though she knew they both had their secrets.

Chapter Fourteen

Glenn walked Mari home, said good night, and took her time walking back through town. Mari and Carrie, cousins. Nothing much surprised her anymore, but once in a while, it was nice for life to hand out a good surprise instead of one that seemed random and cruel. Now Mari would have someone, family, nearby, especially seeing as how the rest of her family had let her down. Carrie wouldn’t let her be alone. Slowing at the entrance to the road up to the hospital, flanked with its stone arches and cast-iron lampposts, Glenn gave a fleeting thought to hiking back up to see what was going on in the ER, but decided to head home instead. She had a game the following night, and she was strangely relaxed. Not keyed up and agitated the way she often was at the end of the day. She smiled to herself. Walking Mari home seemed to be good therapy.

When she woke the next morning at five thirty, having slept for six solid hours, she was surprised again. She lingered in bed for a few minutes, listening to the town wake up through her open window. A distant rumble of an engine, birds singing somewhere in the fields out beyond the parking lot, the quiet tick of the refrigerator in her small kitchen just outside her bedroom door. She stretched, ran a hand absently down the center of her body, felt the quick pulse between her thighs. She let her fingers linger, trailing lower, and the answering tingle made her hips press down into the bed. She closed her eyes, savoring the first blush of morning and the slow rise of pleasure. She pressed lightly, eased a finger on either side of her slowly hardening clit, focused on the tension coiling low in her belly. Her mind drifted on the slowly building waves—stroke, circle, press—and fragments of images flickered beneath her closed lids. Long-fingered hands, teasing, tugging; a warm mouth on her belly, the moist tip of a tongue teasing lower, closer. She kicked aside the sheet, too warm now, a light sweat breaking out down the center of her chest. Her hips lifted, the muscles in her forearm tightened, her wrist brushed rhythmically across her taut abdomen. Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. She groaned softly, waiting for the warmth of a mouth to close over her, to pull her in, push her over. She glanced down, seeing in her mind’s eye the dark eyes and playful smile, felt the midnight strands of hair slide through her fingers. Watching, mesmerized by need, she guided the full red lips down to her clit.

“Fuck,” she gasped, jerking half upright as she exploded into her hand. “Fuck.” She fell back against the pillows, trembling, unable to remember the last time she’d come so quickly or so hard. Absolutely certain she’d never had a fantasy quite like that one, so unquestionably focused on a woman she knew. Still throbbing, still lightly stroking, she couldn’t even pretend she hadn’t been thinking about Mari.

*

An hour later Glenn pulled into the staff lot just as Carrie was getting out of her car. Carrie waited for her as Glenn locked up and jogged over.

“Hey,” Carrie said. “What’s new and exciting in your life?”

Glenn was very glad Carrie wasn’t a mind reader at that moment, because she flashed back to what she’d been thinking about the last hour. Damn if she still wasn’t a little turned on. “Not a thing. Business as usual. You?”

“I’m so busy I don’t even feel like I’m busy. It still feels like July first to me and the month is half over.”

Glenn laughed. “I think your boss works on a different calendar than the rest of the world.”

“You got that right.”

“Mari happened to mention the two of you are related,” Glenn said as they followed the winding stone path from the lot to the back entrance.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Carrie grinned. “I’m pretty psyched about getting to know her better. Say, did you invite her to the game tonight?”

“Yeah, we’re going to grab something to eat first.”

“Well,” Carrie said, slowing until Glenn had to stop. “That’s news.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dating the new PA? Don’t you think that’s something that you should’ve told your very best friend who at one point contemplated seducing you?”

“What?” Glenn’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”

Carrie made a huffing sound. “You are so clueless sometimes. Presley and Abby actually might’ve taken bets about whether or not I was going to get you—”

Glenn held up a hand. “Stop. I don’t want to know about that. I definitely do not want to know you and…jeez, Carrie!”

Carrie jammed her free hand, the one not carrying her briefcase, onto her hip. “Excuse me? Would going to bed with me be such a terrible thing?”

Glenn actually backed up a couple steps. “Whoa. No, of course not. Where’s this coming from?”

“Well, I’m available, you are available, although apparently you’re not now, and—”

“I’m not dating Mari.”

Carrie tilted her head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am…” Glenn hesitated. “If I gave you the impression that I wanted us to, you know, you and me to, well…”

Carrie broke into a broad smile. “Have sex?”

Glenn’s head felt like it was about to explode. “Carrie, I mean, you’re gorgeous, and funny, and smart and—”

Carrie broke into peals of laughter and waved an arm in the air. “Stop, stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist. God, sometimes you’re so clueless.”

Glenn glowered. “You said that already.”

Carrie threw her arm around Glenn’s shoulder, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed her cheek. “I think you’re amazingly adorable and you’re exactly the kind of woman I would love to go to bed with if you weren’t my best friend already.”

“You know, you don’t make any sense at all.”

“We’re completely incompatible, so any sex between us would have to be casual and probably just a time or two.”

“Carrie, I think I’m not making myself clear. I’m not—”

“Theoretical, I’m talking theoretical.” Carrie started walking again. “But that ship has already sailed. If we were going to have casual sex, we should’ve done it right after we first met. Now it’s too late.”

Glenn squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to keep her brains inside her head. “I wish you’d told me all of this sooner.”

“You mean you would’ve slept with me then? Don’t say anything, because I think Presley has money on—”

“No. I wouldn’t have,” Glenn said. “I don’t do that sort of thing, just for, you know…casual.”

Carrie bit her lip, seeming to be holding in more laughter. “You do do it, though, right?”

“Jesus, how did we get onto this topic?”

“You were telling me about your date with Mari.”

“It’s not a date,” Glenn shouted. A passing employee paused and stared at them. She lowered her voice. “Not a date.”

“Are you sure, because you might want to think about that before, you know, you miss another boat.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Carrie brushed a stray lock of hair off Glenn’s forehead. “Absolutely not. You are one of my favorite people in the whole world. And I am perfectly happy with things between us just exactly the way they are.” She held the door open and waited till Glenn drew next to her before whispering, “And if I’d wanted to get you into bed, I would have.”

“I believe it,” Glenn muttered.

“See you at the game.”

Glenn stared after her as Carrie dashed off toward the east wing, wondering what the hell had just happened. And what any of it had to do with Mari. She hadn’t asked her out on a date. Had she?

*

Mari pulled the last chart from the stack in front of her, flipped to the discharge page, and double-checked that she’d filled out all the necessary sections before signing. The day had passed so quickly, she’d barely had time to think about anything beyond running down lab results, checking X-rays, reviewing treatment plans, and giving patients discharge instructions. She’d had a terrific day. Even Antonelli had been a pleasure, presenting patients to her in a thoughtful and thorough fashion. He seemed calmer than she’d ever seen him. She had no doubt in an emergency, he’d still be a take-charge, rapid decision maker, but that was a good thing too. There were times to take things slow and times to act. What was important was to know the difference.

Glenn stuck her head into the staff lounge. “Hey. Almost done?”

“Just finished.” Mari smiled. When she’d had a minute’s break, she’d thought about the evening to come. She was looking forward to getting out of her apartment, to meeting new people, to spending time with Glenn. “Should I meet you somewhere?”

“I drove today. I’ve got the team gear in the back of my Jeep. When you’re ready, I’m parked out back.”

Mari lifted the stack of charts. “Let me drop these off out front and I’m almost ready. I just need five minutes to change.”

“Me too.”

Glenn walked with her while she handed her charts to the clerk, signed out, and went to the locker room to switch her scrubs for street clothes. Mari was used to dressing and undressing with other people around, but this afternoon she felt unexpectedly shy and kept her body angled away from Glenn, who changed at her locker a few feet away. When she’d shimmied into her jeans and scoop-neck T-shirt, she sat down on the narrow bench to pull on her sandals. Glenn, already in a baseball T-shirt with a team logo, leaned back against the bank of lockers, her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her button-fly jeans.

“There’s something I wanted to mention to you,” Glenn said.

Mari looked up, surprised by the serious look in Glenn’s eyes. “What?”

“I ran into Carrie on the way into the hospital this morning, and I mentioned we were gonna grab something to eat before the game tonight.”

Mari tensed but kept her voice light. “Oh. Is she going to join us?”

Glenn’s brows drew down and she shook her head. “No, but she asked me if this was a date.”

Mari couldn’t stop the hot flush from climbing up her throat. “I see. Is that a problem?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, is Carrie upset that we’re having dinner together? Do you want to cancel?”

“No, why would I do that?”

“Well, I thought—”

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” Glenn went on in a rush, as if she had rehearsed what she was going to say and didn’t want to get sidetracked. “It wasn’t a date, when I mentioned it to you before, but I think I’d like it if it was. So would you like to have dinner with me, tonight. The two of us, like a date.”

Mari caught her breath. “Glenn…”

Glenn pushed away from the lockers. “Sorry, I didn’t do that very well. I apologize. You can forget I said anything.”

“No, that’s not it. It’s not what you think.”

“What do I think?”

Mari rose so quickly her head went light again. She rested her fingertips quickly against the locker to orient herself. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding incredibly clichéd. I don’t date, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Glenn laughed shortly. “Boy, there really isn’t any good way to say that, is there.”

“Damn it,” Mari said, knowing she was messing things up and not knowing how to make it right. “It isn’t about you, it’s about me. I can’t date.”

“Why not? You have a girlfriend, wife?”

“No.” Mari couldn’t even absorb the impossibility of either of those things. “Just the opposite. I’ve never—but that’s not what I mean.”

“Hey,” Glenn said gently, cupping Mari’s elbow in the palm of her hand. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s okay. We don’t even have to have dinner if you don’t want to. I can arrange for someone else to give you a ride to the game.”

“No! Will you please stop trying to fix it?” Mari heard her confusion and uncertainty coming out like anger. She was angry, at so many things, but not Glenn.

“Sorry. Bad habit.” A muscle along the edge of Glenn’s jaw jumped, but she didn’t move her hand away.

Mari sighed. “I’m the one who should be sorry. Let me try to explain a little bit better.”

“No, you don’t have to. You really don’t owe me an explanation or anything else.”

“I do, I do. I need to. For me, not for you.”

“All right,” Glenn said.

“Can we not do this here?”

Glenn picked up her gear bag and Mari’s in one hand. “Come on, there’s a little garden out back with some benches. No one will be out there now. We can talk.”

Feeling almost surreal, Mari followed Glenn through the hospital, down a long corridor, and out through a staff exit that led into a small grove of trees with a little fountain and a ring of stone benches. The canopy of maples blocked out most of the sun, and it was cool in the shadows. She sat, and Glenn sat a few feet away. Folding her hands and sliding them between her knees, Mari stared into the fountain, only then realizing the flickering flashes of light beneath the surface were not reflections of sunlight but koi, dancing through the water.

“I can’t date, not for a couple of years,” Mari said.

“Why the time limit?”

With a sigh, Mari shifted on the bench and looked into Glenn’s eyes. “A year ago, right after I finished my PA training but before I started the job I had lined up at the medical center, I was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia.”

Glenn’s face blanked. The blue of her eyes swirled to indigo. “Leukemia.”

“Yes,” Mari said. “It progressed quickly, and the remission I got from chemo only lasted a few weeks.”

Glenn’s breathing picked up, but she said nothing, her gaze cemented to Mari’s. She didn’t say she was sorry, she didn’t act shocked, she didn’t offer sympathy or condolences. She waited, she listened. She was so very good at that. Her solid, unwavering calm gave Mari the courage to keep going.

“My sister Selena, my twin, donated bone marrow. The transplant worked, so far. You know the statistics, or maybe you don’t, but three years is pretty much the uncertain period in terms of delayed rejection of the transplant and disease recurrence. Once past that, I can probably count on being a survivor.”

“So far everything looks good?” Glenn asked.

“Yes, as of my last checkup. There really isn’t anything to do at this point except wait.”

“Does Abby know?”

“I don’t think so. My medical record wasn’t part of the application process, and it’s private. I’m in good health right now.”

“This job will take a lot out of anyone.”

This was what Mari feared, why she kept her diagnosis secret. Already, Glenn was worrying about her, wondering if she could do her job. This was why she didn’t tell people. Oh, she hated the sympathy, and the fear that seemed to hide behind it, as if somehow whatever bad karma or ill luck had befallen her might be catching, but most of all she hated being viewed as less than capable. “I’m perfectly able to do my job.”

“I know,” Glenn said abruptly. “I’ve seen that for myself.”

“Then you understand why I don’t want to have any kind of serious personal relationship.”

“I don’t think I’m making that connection.”

“Really? Then you’re not looking at the long game, but I have to. How fair would it be for me to get close to someone, when I might not even be here in a year or two.”

“Anyone can have an accident, come down with a fatal disease. There are no guarantees.”

“Yes, that sounds great in the abstract, but this isn’t an abstraction. This is a fact.” Mari didn’t want to argue, especially not with Glenn. “You can’t win against me when it comes to these statistics. I’ve studied them for over a year. I could be living on borrowed time. You know that as well as I do.”

Glenn let out a breath. “You know what you need to do, and you don’t need to justify that to anyone.”

“Good,” Mari said, feeling deflated rather than happy. “Then we’re on the same page about no dating.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Will you do me a favor,” Mari said into the silence as Glenn drove them toward the softball field.

Glenn glanced over at her, keeping her face a careful blank. Her feelings were not what mattered right now. Her anger at the random unfairness of life, something she was way too familiar with, didn’t matter. Her confusion at discovering a road she hadn’t thought she’d wanted to travel suddenly blocked to her didn’t matter. The disappointment she hadn’t expected to feel didn’t matter. Mari mattered. Mari had trusted her with a piece of herself, and that trust deserved to be honored. If she needed something and Glenn could give it to her, she would. “Yes.”

“Don’t tell anyone what I told you just now.”

Glenn stared back out to the road. Knowing someone, really knowing them, wasn’t always measured by a calendar or a clock—knowing was sometimes the recognition of shared pain or joy, the communion of spirit from struggling together, the connection born of similar experiences. She hadn’t been rejected by her family, but she knew what it was like to be without one. She had faced her own death countless times, not from disease but an enemy just as invisible and just as merciless. She had sealed away her pain and respected the walls Mari had built. “You don’t know me well enough to know that I wouldn’t do that.”

“I think I do, really, or I wouldn’t have been in a position to need to tell you. I wanted to tell you.” Mari leaned closer, touched Glenn’s bare forearm. “I needed to ask because I’ve kept the secret so long I feel exposed somehow.”

“You’re not. You’re safe. I won’t say anything.” Glenn let out a slow breath and looked at Mari, who sat half turned in the front seat, facing her. “Harper and Flann would understand more than you realize.”

Mari frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Their younger sister Kate died of fulminant leukemia. She was eleven or so, I think.”

“Oh God, that’s horrible,” Mari whispered. “I hated seeing all the children when I was getting treated.”

Glenn reached her hand. “Lots and lots make it.”

“I know,” Mari murmured, her fingers unconsciously twining with Glenn’s. “I kept telling myself that every time I looked at them.”

“And you made it,” Glenn said, gently disengaging her fingers. Mari’s hand was warm, soft. She would have been happy to keep holding it, but Mari probably wouldn’t be pleased when she realized what she’d done. She’d just asked for distance, after all. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Yes,” Mari said, not qualifying, instantly agreeing.

“Will you tell me if there’s a problem, any kind of problem?”

“Why?” Mari asked.

“If I know that you’ll tell me if you need your shifts adjusted—more time off between cycles or whatever—or if there’s a medical problem, I’m not going to be constantly wondering.” Glenn smiled, felt the cold brittleness of her own lips stretched thin. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m always watching, waiting for something bad to happen.”

“I like that you care,” Mari said, “but that’s exactly why I don’t want anything—anything beyond friendship—with anyone. I don’t want anyone to be watching and waiting. Something like that sucks all the joy out of life.”

“I’ll do my best not to do that,” Glenn said.

“I know you will, and I appreciate it.”

“You haven’t actually answered my question. Will you tell me if there’s a problem?”

“I promise I’ll let you know if I’m having a problem at work or if there’s a change in my condition that is going to affect my job.”

“Thanks.” Glenn didn’t miss the careful wording and the neat way Mari had sidestepped saying she’d let her know if her transplant failed, but she couldn’t ask for more, couldn’t ask for any confidence that went beyond their professional relationship. Mari had made herself very clear on the limits of anything personal between them. Nothing would stop her from being on guard. She couldn’t change the way she was made any more than she could change Mari’s desire to be independent, to avoid ties. But she could honor Mari’s request, could keep the distance Mari wanted. She’d already put up the walls. She was only surprised at how much she had wanted to breach them for Mari.

*

Carrie jogged over to the Jeep when Glenn pulled into a place in the second row of a line of pickup trucks and SUVs. Usually she parked right behind the backstop to unload the gear, but she was later than usual after their quick stop for a burger. Dinner had been quick and mostly quiet—they hadn’t mentioned their previous conversation, but she kept thinking there was more she should have said, wanted to say. She just wasn’t sure what, or why.

“I was wondering where you were,” Carrie called, opening the rear compartment as Glenn climbed out of the driver’s side. “Let me give you a hand with everything.”

“Sure,” Glenn said abruptly and caught Carrie giving her a look.

Carrie grinned as Mari joined them. “Hi. How’s it going?”

“Great,” Mari said, wondering if it counted as a lie to keep one’s personal business private. She hated feeling as if she’d lied to Glenn, even though she had every right to keep her medical condition to herself unless there was some reason other people needed to know. All the same, she’d shared some pretty important personal things with Glenn while deliberately hiding the biggest one of all. Glenn must be angry or at least feel a little manipulated somehow, but Mari couldn’t read anything beneath her usual calm, cool exterior. They’d shared a meal and made casual conversation, but the distance across the table had seemed enormous. She hadn’t known how to close that distance, and maybe she didn’t deserve to. She’d put the walls there, and as hard as they were to accept, she needed them. She preferred anger to pity, reserve to suffocating kindness. And she would not be selfish enough to take more than she could give, and she might not have anything at all to offer. She jumped when fingers closed around her wrist.

“Come on,” Carrie said. “I’ll take you over to the bleachers. Abby and Presley are there. You can sit with them, and they can fill you in on all the players.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude. I can find a seat somewhere.”

“Hey, no way. You’re my cuz, remember? I want you to meet my friends. You’ll love them.”

“Well, I know Abby a little,” Mari said a bit helplessly. She glanced over her shoulder as Carrie resolutely tugged her away from the Jeep. Glenn looked after them, her eyes shadowed. Mari called, “Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks.” Glenn hefted a duffel with bats sticking out one end and turned toward the field.

Looking after her, Mari hesitated.

“Something wrong?” Carrie asked.

“What? No,” Mari said quickly. “No, everything is fine.”

“Super. Should be a great game.”

Surrendering to Carrie’s enthusiastic tug on her arm, Mari followed her through the scattering of people who mingled around a double set of bleachers off to the left of the big tall fence—what did they call that, the batter’s cage? Players were already on the field, tossing the ball back and forth, and someone was hitting another one into the outfield. She’d seen baseball games fleetingly on television and in the lounge at the hospital, but never paid any attention to them beyond the basics that every American grew up knowing. The sports channel wasn’t on her list of favorites, and when the ER staff was glued to the TV in the break room during the World Series, she was discreetly reading a book on her phone.

“So how’s everything going in the ER?” Carrie asked when they reached the stands. She leaned against the railing, not seeming in any hurry to get out onto the field.

“Great,” Mari lied for the second time in less than half an hour. She gestured to the field. “Don’t you have to go?”

“In a minute or so.” Carrie grinned. “I’m the pitcher. I just need to warm up a little.”

“Ah, special privileges.”

“That’s it—think of me as the surgeon on the team. Nothing important happens without me.”

Mari couldn’t help herself, she laughed. Carrie had a way of lifting her spirits despite her lingering melancholy. “Do the rest of them know that?”

“Oh, they like to pretend otherwise but we all know the truth.” Carrie’s mischievous grin made it impossible to take her seriously. “So where are you living?”

Mari told her. “It’s a little apartment, but it’s nice. You?”

“I’m out in the country with Presley and Harper.”

“You’re living with them?”

Carrie tipped her head from side to side. “Well, technically Harper is living with me and Presley. We were there first. The hospital had actually rented the place for Presley, and I was going to stay in town, but it’s this big old rambling farmhouse with plenty of bedrooms, and it just made sense for us to live together. Plus, the house comes with a housekeeper whose cooking will make you cry. Wait till you taste Lila’s muffins.”

Carrie made swooning noises and Mari laughed again. She’d never met anyone who seemed to take such unconcealed pleasure in life. She envied her new cousin that ability.

“Anyhow,” Carrie went on, “when Harper and Prez got involved, well, you know how that goes. Pretty soon Harper was spending almost every night there.”

Mari didn’t know how that went, but she wasn’t going to say so. She’d never gone any further than kissing, and not very much of that. She’d shared a room with her sister and, until she’d gotten sick, they’d shared pretty much everything. Talk of sex wasn’t one of them. Selena had a serious boyfriend, but she lived at home and Juan lived with his parents too. Mari doubted they were having sex. Selena was even more religious than their parents and had declared from the time she was twelve that sex before marriage was a sin. “Is it weird, living with your boss?”

“Oh no. Prez and I have pretty good boundaries. The only real problem is that she wants to work all the time, and I refuse to talk about business before we get to the office.” Carrie laughed. “Well, I try not to, anyways, but it’s just natural for her. She’s always thinking about what she needs to do, and since she’s always twenty steps ahead of everyone, there’s always a lot of that.”

“Sounds like she’s lucky to have you.”

“Oh, she is. But she knows it. And I love my job.” Carrie laughed. “Anyhow, I’m going to be moving into Harper’s in a few weeks. At least I hope it will be that soon. Harper’s planning to have it renovated—add another bedroom and bathroom in case my family comes to visit or something.”

“Is it in town?”

“Oh no. It’s right smack-dab on the Rivers plantation. I call it a plantation, it isn’t really, although it looks a lot like Tara.”

Mari struggled to follow the quickly swinging conversation. “Tara? You mean like in Gone with the Wind?”

“Yeah, you know, the big white house with the columns and the gables and the sweeping porches and the acres and acres of green? That’s what the Rivers family’s homestead reminds me of. Harper’s place is like a quarter of a mile away—it used to be a caretaker’s house, a hundred years ago, I guess. It’s got its own little barn and a garden. Do you garden?”

“You mean flowers? Um, no.”

“Actually, I meant vegetables. You know, tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers. That kind of thing.”

Mari couldn’t keep from smiling, although she didn’t feel the slightest bit humorous. “Oh my God, no. I grew up right in the heart of the city. The only things coming out of the ground that weren’t parking meters were the occasional trees that the city planted, and they were so puny they hardly qualified as trees. My family lives in a row house, and my mother sometimes put a window box with flowers outside the front window, but she took care of keeping them alive.”

“You’ll have to come and see the place,” Carrie said. “I’ve pretty much talked Harper into letting me oversee the renovations, since I’m gonna be living there and she’s way busy at work.”

“Of course,” Mari said automatically.

“Great! We’re having a get-together at our place tomorrow. You’ll have to come and then I’ll take you on a tour.”

“Ah, I—”

“Oops—there’s my page,” Carrie said when a short, barrel-chested guy in a team shirt yelled and waved in their direction. “Come on.”

Carrie vaulted up a narrow aisle between the rows of benches toward the top of the bleachers and Mari hurried after. The stands were surprisingly crowded with men, women, and children talking, eating, and laughing. Sundown was at least two hours away and the air shimmered with heat.

“That’s Presley next to Abby,” Carrie said, pointing as she climbed, “and Harper’s sister Carson and her little boy next to her.” Carrie paused one row below Abby, next to Abby’s son and the Rivers girl, who Mari had first seen at the pizza place with Glenn. “Hey, move down, you two. This is my cousin Mari.”

Dutifully, the teens inched down and slid closer together to make room on the end.

“Thanks,” Mari said as she settled beside them.

“Hey—gotta go warm up,” Carrie announced to the world in general. “Everybody, meet Mari, my cousin!”

“Your cousin?” Presley said, obviously surprised, as she held out a hand to Mari. “Hi, I’m Carrie’s roomie, Presley.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mari said to the hospital CEO. Roomie was right.

“Yeah, neat, isn’t it?” Carrie squeezed Mari’s shoulder. “See you afterward for victory pizza. Bye, everybody. Look after my cuz.”

Mari blushed at being the sudden focus of attention, but could hardly be annoyed. Carrie was just too damn sweet.

Abby’s son turned and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Blake Remy.”

The pretty young girl, who had the same classic features as her sisters along with a glorious head of thick cascading golden tresses, grinned around him. “Margie Rivers. Hi.”

“Hi,” Mari said.

Abby leaned down, a hand on each of the kids’ shoulders. “Ms. Mateo is one of our new PAs.”

“Oh, you can call me Mari,” Mari said.

“Cool,” Blake said. “Margie and I are going to be volunteers in the ER.”

“That’s great,” Mari said.

Blake glanced back at his mother. “Right, Mom?”

“Presley and Harper have approved.” Abby turned to Mari. “Blake is going to start with us on Monday for four weeks, then Margie.”

“Actually,” Margie said in a bright, clear voice, “Blake and I were thinking that we should do our rotations simultaneously, because that way we’ll get more out of them. Dr. Valentine is okay with both of us starting in the middle of August at the vet clinic and working until we go back to school, and then maybe on weekends.”

“Weekends.” Abby looked back and forth between them. “We’ll have to see how your grades are before I’ll agree to that.”

Blake made a face but didn’t argue.

“As for the two of you rotating together, I don’t see why not. You can both start on Monday morning. Seven a.m.”

Blake winced. “Seven?”

Abby smiled just a little triumphantly. “We start at seven, which means you should probably show up around ten of.”

Blake glanced at Margie. “Can you pick me up? Just until I get my license.” He looked over his shoulder at his mother with a truly angelic smile. “And a car.”

Abby merely shook her head. “Those negotiations are ongoing. What are you driving, Margie—something safe? Not a motorcycle.”

“Oh, totally.” Margie’s face glowed. “Harper gave me her old truck for as long as I keep it running and put gas in it.”

“I’ll help with that,” Blake said instantly.

“Fine,” Abby said. “Mari and I will be your supervisors in the ER.”

“Cool,” both kids said at once.

Abby squeezed Blake’s shoulder and sat back while Blake and Margie made plans in excited whispers. Mari tried and failed to imagine her own parents interacting with her the way Abby did with Blake and his friend, firmly in charge but listening to them, as if their opinions mattered. A year ago she might not have noticed, or at the most been surprised or curious. Now she was the tiniest bit jealous, and even more than a little sad.

Chapter Sixteen

Softball was a lot more interesting than Mari had ever realized. Maybe it was the players she found fascinating, though, and not the details of the game. One player in particular. She tended to forget the score and the number of outs, being mostly too busy watching Glenn. Glenn played the game the way she did everything else, with a singular focus that showed in her every movement, from the way she ran directly out onto the field with her baseball glove tucked under her arm, racing to her position, to settling into a loose-limbed stance, poised and ready for action. And watching, always watching. Her attentiveness was one of the things Mari liked most about Glenn—no matter what she was doing, evaluating a patient, instructing a student, listening while Mari talked, she was so unwaveringly there, totally engaged. Being around Glenn, when they talked in the ER hallway or relaxed across from each other in the pizza place, she knew without a doubt she was seen. It wasn’t as if Glenn had tunnel vision and shut out the rest of the world—just the opposite. Glenn was aware of everything. She constantly took in all the activity going on around them, as if to be sure she was never taken by surprise. Every time the door opened to admit a new customer or someone appeared from around the corner at the end of a hall, her gaze would flicker for just a second in that direction, as if she was assessing the threat level, determining friend or foe. And just as quickly her attention would swing back to Mari, one hundred percent.

After years of feeling as if she was only partially visible, to family and friends and even herself, Mari exulted in the sensation of being seen at last. No more hiding—and now that Glenn knew all her secrets, or probably all that mattered, she couldn’t take solace in the shadows even if she’d wanted to. In the weeks since she’d left LA, her life had turned upside down.

But she could handle it. She had to. She had nothing to go back to.

“Ooh, this guy can hit,” Margie exclaimed. “He homered a couple of times in the last game against us.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Blake muttered as if recalling some grievous injury. “He pulls right, though, and Glenn wasn’t playing the night he homered. He got a break, that’s all.”

Mari perked up at the sound of Glenn’s name and studied the batter. Unassuming enough, she would have thought. A slim, young guy she recognized from X-ray swung the bat in an easy motion and didn’t look to be all that strong. He swung and missed the first ball. The next he watched pass over the plate with barely a glance. Then he coiled just a little tighter, his front leg stretching out as Carrie released the ball, and his bat sliced the air almost too quickly for Mari to follow. The ball streaked away with a sharp crack in Glenn’s direction. Over her head. Too high for her to possibly reach.

Mari caught her breath, edged forward on the bench while people yelled encouragement and many jumped to their feet. For just an instant Glenn seemed not to move at all, but merely lifted her head as the ball soared toward her, then she angled her shoulder, her gaze still fixed upward, and ran back and back, almost to the rear wall, as the ball arced down. With a fluid sweep of her arm, she lofted her glove and the bullet-like projectile seemed to fall into it as if that had been its only intention. As if she had drawn it to her like a magnet.

Mari knew the feeling. Glenn was magnetic.

She cheered with everyone else as Glenn’s team streaked off the field. She didn’t know the precise score, but she didn’t have any doubt that Glenn’s team had won when everyone on the bench around her jumped up, hooting loudly. She found herself caught on the wave of jubilation, amazed at the delight that buoyed her spirits. The winning wasn’t what really mattered, but the camaraderie, the common bond of supporting the team, most of whom were actually strangers, united her with the people around her. It was hard to feel alone in that raucous, high-spirited community.

Abby climbed down and stood next to Mari in the aisle. “I’m surprised they haven’t recruited you yet.”

“Actually, that was just about the first thing Carrie said to me,” Mari said with a laugh. “But I convinced her I’m much more valuable as a cheerleader than a player.”

“Everyone has their purpose.” Abby nodded solemnly and broke into a grin. “A bunch of us are headed out to the pub for beer and burgers. Or just beer, or just burgers. Or in my case, gravy fries. You’re welcome to come.”

Mari almost said yes before a sudden wave of uncertainty caught back the words. She wasn’t sure she could be around Glenn any more tonight without obsessing over the conversation they’d just had, and what and how things had changed. She was emotionally exhausted from reliving the last year and didn’t have the reserves to absorb any more pain for a few hours, and the distance that had descended between her and Glenn hurt. And, she admitted ever so fleetingly, she didn’t want to discover she was no longer the focus of Glenn’s attention. At war with herself, she shook her head. “Thanks, but I think I’ll head home. I’m starting nights tomorrow, and I want to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Okay. See you at the barbecue tomorrow?”

Before Mari could answer, Carrie appeared beside them, her flushed face alight. “Hey, great game, huh?”

“Fabulous,” Abby said.

From the row behind them, Presley yelled, “Super pitching, Ace.”

“But of course.” Carrie looked at Mari. “Have fun?”

“It was great,” Mari said, meaning the words this time.

“You’re coming out with us, right?”

“Not tonight.”

“You sure? Do you drink beer?”

“Ah—now and then.” That was sort of true, although Mari rarely drank anything at all. Spirits were not something her parents considered proper casual drinking, and since she’d barely dated, she didn’t have much reason to drink. When she’d gone out on occasion with the others in her training program, she’d usually stuck to something nonalcoholic. And then, when she got sick, alcohol was off the table.

“Bottoms Up has a great assortment on tap, anyhow,” Carrie said. “And decent food. You sure?”

“I’ll take a rain check.”

“Okay. So I’ll pick you up about nine tomorrow.”

“Sorry?”

“Remember, you’re getting a tour of my soon-to-be new house before we head over to the farm. I think there’ll be Lila’s biscuits.”

“Oh—well, there’s the barbecue in the afternoon and—”

“Right. We’re having a little get-together at our place, to review the last-minute details for Presley’s wedding. Then we can all head over to the barbecue together.”

Mari glanced at Presley, who had joined them. “Oh, well, I don’t want to intrude.”

Presley waved her hand. “Believe me, we love all the input we can get. This wedding is a group venture. You’re more than welcome.”

“Nine o’clock,” Carrie called, as she turned and scrambled back down the crowded aisle.

“Well, okay,” Mari said in defeat. She followed along with the throng of people clambering down the bleachers and finally found a clear space to catch her breath and figure out where she was. She was pretty sure she remembered the direction Glenn had driven, and it wasn’t very far at all from the center of town. All of a sudden, she really looked forward to a few moments of being alone to regroup.

“Carrie says you’re not going out with us,” Glenn said, materializing by her side.

“No, I thought I’d call it an early night.” Mari smiled. “Congratulations on winning the game.”

A quicksilver smile flashed across Glenn’s face, adding warmth to her cool attractiveness that was disconcertingly captivating. “It was a bit of a cakewalk, but we’ll take it now and then.”

“Oh, absolutely. Every now and then you need an easy one.”

“Yeah.” Glenn lightly touched her arm. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’re going out, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Glenn’s brows drew down. “But I’m certainly not going to let you walk home.”

“It’s not far, right? Maybe a mile?”

“That’s about right, but in case you haven’t noticed, it’s dark. Or almost—it will be by the time you get there. You’re not walking home.”

“It’s not safe?”

Glenn blew out a breath. “Probably it is, but you’re still not walking home.”

“Don’t forget, I’ve got city smarts. I’ve been getting around at night by myself for a lot of years,” Mari said. “Besides, you run at night, don’t you?”

“Yes, and I’ve never had a problem.” Glenn put her hand in the center of Mari’s back, gently directing her out of the stream of foot traffic. “But unless you want me to worry, you’ll take the ride.”

Mari laughed. “That strikes me as blackmail.”

Glenn grinned. “Possibly.”

“Thank you,” Mari said, aware of the press of Glenn’s fingers along the edge of her scapula, the tiny points dissolving the terrible distance she’d felt earlier. “I’d appreciate a ride, then.”

“Good. That’s better.”

In minutes Glenn pulled to the curb in front of Mari’s apartment. As Mari was about to say good night, she regretted her decision not to go out with everyone after the game. Reminding herself of all the reasons why she had decided to pass, she pushed open the door and stepped out. “Thanks again.”

“Don’t forget the barbecue tomorrow. Do you need a ride?”

“No,” Mari said, wishing for a second that she did. “Carrie is showing me around tomorrow, and I’ll be going over with her.”

Glenn nodded. “Have fun then.”

Mari held the door open for a second, searching for something to say and discarding everything. She’d made the rules and wished she wasn’t so sure of them. “’Night.”

Glenn’s gaze traveled over Mari’s face, warming her skin and making her heart race.

“’Night, Mari.”

*

Glenn waited until Mari was inside before pulling away. She drove to the next corner but instead of turning left toward Bottoms Up, she turned right, and five minutes later pulled into the lot behind the hospital. In the locker room, she stripped out of her dusty softball clothes and crammed them into her gym bag, pulled clean scrubs from her locker, and turned on the shower full force. With steaming water sluicing over her head and shoulders, she braced both forearms on the shower wall and closed her eyes. With nothing but silence to focus on, her thoughts were all of Mari and what Mari had told her about the last year. Her hands closed into fists and the muscles in her shoulders bunched. She hated thinking about what Mari had endured with her illness and her family’s rejection, and she hated even more imagining the uncertainty she lived with every day. She hated not being able to do a damn thing about it, and she could only imagine what the waiting must be like for Mari. She was so fucking tired of senseless waste, of cruelty and the fickleness of life. And she ought to know by now she couldn’t change a goddamned thing.

Straightening, pushing the anger deep down inside, she rubbed her hands over her face and switched the water to cold. The shock against her heated skin jolted through her like a rifle crack. Her mind cleared and she accepted that reality was often unfair and inexplicable. Life, her life at least, was a battlefield, and she knew what she needed to do.

She pulled on scrubs, toweled her hair dry, and went down to the ER. Bruce manned the desk.

“I didn’t know you were working tonight,” he said, sounding not the least bit surprised to see her.

“I’m not, officially.”

“It’s Friday night, though. Should have known.” He gestured at the board, which was half full of names already. “In another hour we’ll really be able to use you.”

“Thought I’d check in on the student. Where is she?”

He grinned. “In six with an earache. Three-year-old.”

High-pitched screaming alternating with heartfelt sobs emanated down the hall from the direction he indicated.

“Oh, boy,” Glenn said. “My favorite thing. Holding down a thrashing, inconsolable child to look in their ears.”

Bruce laughed. “Uh-huh.”

“If I don’t come back in half an hour, send help.”

“Oh no—you’re on your own, Doc.”

All medics in the field were Doc, and as Glenn headed off to give her student some backup, she was grateful for anything—even a screaming three-year-old with an earache—to dull the weight of helplessness sitting on her chest.

Chapter Seventeen

A little before four in the morning, Flann pulled into the drive beside the schoolhouse her great-grandfather had attended and parked behind Abby’s car. Before Abby came to town and into her life, Flann would’ve bunked the rest of the night in an on-call room reserved for docs waiting for babies to be born or for the OR to get ready for an emergency case. After a few hours of semi-sleep, she’d grab a quick breakfast in the cafeteria, shower in the surgeons’ locker room, and start her day again without giving the world outside the hospital a thought. There were times when she didn’t get home for a couple of days. She’d never really minded, before Abby. But everything was different now.

Now the chance to slip into her own bed for forty-five minutes, to slide her arm around Abby’s waist and press against her back, to cradle her face in Abby’s hair and breathe her scent, was worth every second of the rushed trip home from the Rivers and back. Maybe Abby would wake up and turn to her with a murmur of welcome and a soft kiss, and they’d have a minute or two or ten, enough time for her to feel Abby’s heart quicken as she stroked her, hear Abby’s low moan as she teased her. A precious minute to feel Abby turn into her with a muffled cry as she exploded. Oh yeah. A few minutes with Abby was everything.

Flann bounded up the front steps and slowed when she saw the inner door was open, with just the screen keeping out the bugs and the night. Abby tended to lock up at night—city habit, and like most doctors, she was a creature of habit. Flann frowned, wondering why Abby had forgotten to close up. She eased the screen open as quietly as she could, took two steps inside, and stopped. The sun was just rising, and dim dawn light illuminated the single big room with the living area in front and kitchen in the rear. Blake sprawled in the corner of the big sofa, his head angled in an unnatural position that was going to hurt when he woke up.

“Hey,” Flann whispered, moving closer.

“Hey.” Blake sprang upright, shot a hand through his tousled hair, and stared at her.

“Too hot in the loft to sleep?” Flann asked.

“Wasn’t so bad.”

“Okay.” Flann thought about Abby behind the bedroom door down the hall. Her stomach still quivered with thoughts of warm flesh and hungry kisses. She looked at Blake. “Something going on?”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure. Want to take a walk so we don’t wake your mom?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Flann turned around, walked back outside, down the short walk, and out the picket fence. Every time she saw that fence she smiled. Yep, she had the picket fence and soon she’d have the wife, officially, and one kid and maybe another one day soon. Nothing she’d ever wanted, and all that mattered to her.

“Tough case?” Blake asked as they walked toward the center of the village.

“Perforated diverticulum—you know what that is?”

“Yes, it’s an outpouching of the colon, a thinning of the muscle layer, which can become inflamed and sometimes rupture. Sort of like an appendix.”

Flann laughed. “Very good. You’ve been studying.”

“Some animals get them too.”

“I didn’t realize that. I’d think with their diet it wouldn’t be as common.”

“It isn’t. Dogs get it pretty often. Volvulus and other malrotations of the intestine are more common in ruminants, because of the extra stomachs.”

“Uh-huh.” Flann waved to the daughter of a local farmer who beeped the horn as she rattled by in an old pickup truck loaded down with hay. “Feels like I could use an extra stomach this morning. I’m starving. Think we should pick up some breakfast for your mom?”

“The café will be open any minute,” Blake said, a hopeful note in his voice.

“We’ll head that way, then.” Flann figured the ten-minute walk would clear the last of the churning arousal from her system and give him a chance to get to the point. A minute passed in silence.

“I want to have my top surgery before school starts. Will you do it this summer?”

Oh, boy. For one second, Flann wanted to punt. Let Abby make the decision. But Blake hadn’t asked Abby, he’d asked her. They’d have to talk, the three of them, but for right now, she was the one he’d chosen. “Let’s back up a couple steps, okay?”

His shoulder stiffened, as if he expected a rejection, but he nodded.

“First off, we’re family now. Some people would say you ought to have a different surgeon because of that.”

“Why?”

“’Cause maybe my judgment will be off because you’re extra-special to me, and my focus will be split worrying about you instead of doing my job.”

“Will it?”

“No.”

“Okay. It’s not illegal or anything. You can’t get in trouble?”

“No, I can’t. And just so you know, if I do it, I’ll get Glenn to assist. You couldn’t have a better team.”

Blake nodded seriously. “I know that.”

“Okay. So, you’ve read about it, right?”

“Lots of times, and I’ve read blogs, and I’ve seen what it looks like,” Blake said all in a rush.

“What do you mean? You’ve seen what it looks like?”

“On YouTube, guys have documented their surgeries. You know, before and right after when the bandages first come off, and then when it’s all healed.”

“You realize there’s more than one way to do the surgery, and everybody heals differently. You might not look at all like any of those guys.”

“I know. And you have to look at me to decide how to make the incisions.”

“That’s right.”

“I know all that. I know about the scars.”

“I have to say this, okay,” Flann said, halting on the corner across from the café. “It’s part of what I have to do as your surgeon, not because I don’t trust you or believe in you. Do you understand?”

Blake shoved his hands in the pockets of his baggy basketball shorts and looked her in the eye. “Okay. I get it. Go ahead.”

“Surgery isn’t like the drugs. If you stop them now, some of the physical changes in your body would be permanent, but a lot of them would go away eventually.” Flann waited, let her words sink in.

“I know.”

“This isn’t like that. There’s no going back, Blake. Once the breast tissue’s gone, it is gone.”

“I’m sure. I’ve always been sure.”

Flann nodded. “I know. And you know what else I know?”

“What?” Blake whispered, a shimmer of tears glistening on his lashes.

“Your mom is sure too. You have to talk to her about this before we schedule anything. You’re a minor, and she’s your mom.” Flann grinned. “And she’s sorta the head of this household.”

Blake laughed. “We’ve already talked about it before, some. I’ll talk to her right away.”

“Good. So what do you want to know?” Flann asked as they sprinted across the street.

“Will I have to stay in the hospital?”

“No, you can go home soon as you’re awake from surgery. It’ll take me, oh, an hour or so, but I can let you know for sure on that when I examine you.”

“Everyone will know, won’t they.”

Flann blew out a breath, her hand on the door to the café. “Probably some. Everyone who works with me in the office and in the OR will know. A few people will probably mention it to someone, but I don’t think it’ll become town news.”

“Okay.”

“Come on.” Flann pulled open the door and they waited in silence in the small room smelling of sugar and fresh dough, behind a handful of early risers at the glass-fronted counter filled with out-of-this-world concoctions. Several people greeted them in passing, giving Blake a smile or a guarded once-over. Curiosity. Small towners didn’t have a lot to talk about except the weather, births, deaths, money, and who was cheating on who. Come to think of it, that was probably the same all over. And then there were the newcomers to speculate about. Presley, Abby, and Blake were all still newcomers.

“Has anybody ever had it done before?” Blake asked as they started home with two brown paper sacks filled with bits of heaven. “Here?”

“No, not someone who’s transitioning like you, but the procedure, sure. About fifty percent of…” She paused, wanting to get this right. “Fifty percent of cis guys have what we call gynecomastia—their breasts develop at puberty. Too many hormones of all kinds floating around. Usually it’s pretty temporary, although not temporary enough for most of them. But if it doesn’t resolve by your age, it probably won’t. Surgery is an option then.”

“Man, that sucks.” Blake sounded both sympathetic and a little as if he was glad to hear about kindred sufferers.

“Yeah, they pretty much think so too. So I’ve had plenty of practice doing the procedure, although in a lot of places the plastics guys do it. I don’t know why, it’s not that complicated.” Flann grinned and Blake laughed.

“Can I go back to work right away?” Blake asked. “I don’t want to miss any time in the ER or at Dr. Valentine’s, depending on when you schedule it.”

“Five days restricted movement and three weeks limited strenuous activity. That means no lifting at all.”

Blake winced. “Okay.”

“I mean it. If you bleed, it’ll be a real pain in the ass for both of us. And your healing will be delayed. That’s the biggest problem with guys your age, keeping you from thinking you’re supermen.”

Blake shot her a look. “Bet it’s not just the guys. Remember way back when you were sixteen?”

“Smart-ass.” Flann laughed.

“When?”

“Let’s talk to your mom first, okay? And then I’ll look at my schedule and give you some dates and you can decide. We want to work it so you’re in good shape for the wedding.”

“Huh? You mean Harper and Presley?” Blake looked puzzled. “I’m not going to do anything except sit there.”

“Oh, ah…” Crap, she’d forgotten already she and Abby hadn’t told him about their plans for a wedding. Discussed it with him.

“What?”

This time she did punt. “Let’s wait till we get home and we’ll wake up your mom. Good thing we got her two of those apple fritters.”

*

At ten minutes to nine, Mari settled on the wide wooden steps of the wraparound porch of the grand mansion that had once been a family home and was now home to many. Home to her. She sipped her double espresso and watched a couple of teens ride by on bicycles, pedaling with no hands and debating some sports score. While she listened to the sounds of a summer Saturday morning—a lawnmower rumbling somewhere nearby, the distant honk of a horn, the excited barking of a dog down the street—she mused on how different this Saturday was from the others she’d spent here. She had plans. Her entire day was filled with things to do, people she would be spending time with. A hospital barbecue. That was definitely a first. She was really looking forward to it and admitted that was partly because she’d be seeing Glenn. They could be friends—they already were. And she didn’t have to feel guilty about how much she enjoyed just being with her. So she’d let herself enjoy the little secret thrill of anticipation.

Carrie pulled to the curb in a car that looked like a bug escaped from some automotive fun house. The little red convertible with white stripes was the size of a beanbag and ridiculously cute.

“What is that?” Mari asked, walking down the sidewalk.

“Isn’t it just adorable?” Carrie grinned and actually patted the dashboard. “It’s a Mini Cooper. My present to myself. It’s so much fun to drive and really easy to park, and I get lots of looks.”

Mari laughed and slipped into the passenger seat. “I bet you do.”

Carrie’s hair was down and slightly tangled from the open air drive. She wore a tank top and cut-off denim shorts. Her arms and legs were tanned, her eyes sparkling, and she was definitely lookable. The car probably wasn’t necessary to get her a little attention.

“I thought we’d start at my place—well, my new place.” Carrie pulled away from the curb, did a neat U-turn, and headed right on Main Street. “Then we’ll head to the farm for food and Presley’s war meeting.”

“Are you sure I’m not crashing a private thing?” Mari asked.

“Definitely not. Not to worry.”

Carrie whipped around a corner, and within a minute, they’d left the village limits and were in the heart of farmland. Fields of corn and other green things stretched on either side of the road for what looked like forever in every direction. Every few minutes they’d pass a narrow dirt road leading through the fields, far bigger and longer than an ordinary driveway, to a cluster of barns and a farmhouse centered in the midst of the fields.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Carrie said.

“It’s certainly beautiful. You don’t mind living so far from everything?”

Carrie laughed. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? And me being a city kid too. When you get home at night, there’s just you and the animals and…peace. It’s never really quiet, but not the noise of other people. I never realized that I might like being away from it all until I actually was. I’m always glad to get to the hospital, or the ball field, or somewhere else with friends, but there’s something really special about your own little piece of the world.”

“You’ve really settled in here, haven’t you?” Mari envied her cousin having found her place, even as she was happy for her.

“You know, I really have.” Carrie’s face grew uncharacteristically solemn. “Thank God Presley is so good at what she does, because I would hate to have to leave. As long as the hospital is healthy, this is home. And I guess, if for some reason I didn’t have my job at the Rivers, I’d have to find something else to do here somewhere.” She glanced over at Mari. “I don’t think I’d want to leave.”

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we met.”

“Me too. I love my friends more than anything, but there’s something special about family, isn’t there.”

“Yes,” Mari said quietly. “There is.”

Carrie’s soon-to-be new home was just about as cute as her car. The white clapboard two-story square with its slate roof looked like a miniature of all the farmhouses they’d passed on the way: a wide back porch, a small barn, a big garden filled with flourishing plants, some of them already laden with ripening tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers, and a view across a sweeping expanse of meadow toward distant mountains.

“It’s beautiful here.” Mari sighed. “Who is looking after the garden?”

“Presley, Harper, and I take turns coming over to raid whatever’s ripe. Lila—our housekeeper—stops by too.”

Carrie pulled open the screen and opened the back door. “Come on, I’ll show you what I’m planning.”

“Doesn’t anyone lock their doors around here?”

“Oh, probably. The newcomers.”

Mari laughed and entered a bright kitchen, big enough to eat in, that opened directly off the back porch and ran most of the width of the rear of the house. A small table with four wooden chairs nestled around it sat in front of the windows beside the back door. Dark wood counters, oak cupboards with glass fronts, a big gas range, and a white enamel refrigerator with a rounded door that looked like it might be twenty years old completed the decor.

“This is really nice.” Mari ran her hand over the enamel-topped table, like one she remembered from her visit to her grandmother when she was ten. She imagined sitting at that table with a cup of coffee in the morning before work or late in the evening, when she’d finished at the hospital. She could make that picture so easily, but everywhere else she looked was shadows. Would she be alone? Would there be a woman, a life, beyond that bare glimmer of a dream?

“I know, it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Mari jumped, found a smile. “Yes. Amazing.”

Carrie led her through into a living room slightly bigger than the kitchen, with a square black stove of some kind in one corner with a pile of logs beside it. “One bedroom and bath upstairs. We’re going to add an extension with a bedroom, another bath, and maybe a little laundry room. That’s downstairs in the basement right now.”

“Quite a project.”

“I know, fun, huh.” Carrie’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Presley talked to the contractor who’s renovating Abby and Flann’s farmhouse. I haven’t heard the schedule yet, but if anyone can get them to run two crews at the same time, it’ll be Presley.”

“It sounds as if everyone has been here forever—Presley and Abby and you.”

Carrie ran her fingers over the top of a corduroy-covered sofa, glancing around the room. “You’ll feel the same way soon, like you’ve always been here.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Mari wasn’t ready to explain why she’d be content with satisfying work and the occasional company of friends like Carrie. She especially didn’t want to tell her newly found cousin why family was not something she wanted to count on—not for a long, long time.

Chapter Eighteen

Mari sat at one end of a semicircle of high-backed wooden rockers with Carrie, Abby, Presley, and Carson on the back porch of the big yellow farmhouse where Carrie lived with Harper and Presley. She gently pushed her pale green rocker with one foot, lulled by the early morning sun and the rhythmic to-and-fro motion. The worn-smooth seat was so comfortable she’d have sworn it had been carved specifically for her backside. She had to resist searching to see if her name was written on the chair somewhere. When she and Carrie had arrived, the others had welcomed her as if she had always been part of the group. Still, the foreignness of the landscape, with the fenced pastures and hard-packed dirt barnyard populated by chickens and a handicapped rooster who had been introduced to her as Rooster, reminded her she was still very much an outsider. Despite her lingering self-consciousness, she was happy to be there and hoped she’d one day be a real part of the group.

Carrie put her iced tea on the faded gray plank floor, opened her notebook, and balanced it on her knees. “Okay, let’s review.”

Mari smothered a smile as Carrie worked her way from person to person around the semicircle, running down their list of to-dos and ticking off all the things that had been done. She was like a general reviewing battle plans, analyzing troop movements, and shifting assignments between her officers where needed. Presley, Abby, and Carson all accepted her directions good-naturedly, including her mild admonishments when they admitted to not having yet completed all of their tasks. These women were a family, with the same kind of teasing and occasional squabbling Mari was used to at home, although she hadn’t had this many sisters. Brothers were different. As much as she loved every one of hers, they were still boys. To them, everything was a problem to be solved, and once a solution came to light, they considered the issue solved. With a quick dusting off of hands, they moved on, seemingly never troubled by the emotional consequences. Selena understood the emotional aftermath of life’s big and small moments, that even good things came at a cost and unhappy ones could linger beneath the surface for a long time. Mari missed Selena most when faced with the intimacy of others, when she remembered how close they had been and their abrupt parting. She should have been prepared for Selena’s rejection, but she’d let herself hope. Denial was such a dangerous and destructive form of self-delusion.

Selena had wanted to be a nun when she was twelve and used to play at it the way some girls played house, wearing a habit fashioned from a sheet she tied at the waist with a woven strand of hemp and a scarf wrapped around her hair to mimic a wimple. She’d outgrown the desire to be celibate and to devote herself solely to God around the time she discovered boys, but she was still devout, like their parents. Like Mari had never really been. Mari’d never thought to question the church or its dictates growing up—it was just a central focus of her life. But as she’d gotten older and begun to see herself apart in a way that other members in her family couldn’t understand, she began to wonder and question. She’d finally decided she could believe on a spiritual level even when her life was at odds with the rules and tenets of the church. She was okay with that and hoped that God was too.

Carrie flicked her pen in Mari’s direction as if it were a laser pointer. “I suppose you thought you were getting out of things.”

Caught unawares, Mari straightened on a surge of uncharacteristic panic. What had she missed while she was daydreaming about the past? “Uh, well…”

Carrie grinned. “You can be my backup in the cake and pastry department. If for some reason there’s a problem with delivery and I can’t get to it, I’ll call you.”

“Backup.” Mari sagged with relief. That couldn’t be too hard. “Sure. That sounds good.”

Presley reached across Carrie and patted Mari’s knee. “Carrie tends to be eager. You’ll get used to it after a while.”

Carrie snorted.

“I’m happy to help,” Mari said.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Presley said, shooting a look at Abby. “Your services might be required in the future.”

Carson, a red-haired, green-eyed older version of Margie whose face had taken on an elegant beauty in adulthood, shot up straight. Her gaze swung from Presley and finally settled on Abby. “What? What has my sister done now?”

Abby chewed her lip. “Well, it’s sort of a secret—”

“Really,” Carrie said with mock sarcasm, “there are no secrets between besties. I hereby propose no secrets in our enclave. After all, we don’t want to miss out on all the good stuff.”

“Oh no,” Abby said, looking pointedly at Carson. “I’m not talking about sex in front of Flann’s sister.”

Carson clamped her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear it, either.”

Both Abby and Presley grinned.

Carrie pretended to pout. “Well, that’s no fun, then. If we’re not going to talk about sex, I suppose we could talk about—” She frowned. “Damn, that takes a lot off the table.”

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Carson poked Abby in the side. “What about Flann, and don’t mention any sex words.”

“You’ll find out tomorrow at dinner, all the details, but Flann and I are going to be planning a wedding pretty soon ourselves.”

Carson whooped. “That’s so great. My mom and dad will be thrilled. I can’t wait to tease Flann about it, the one who was never going to settle down. What did it take her, a hot second?”

Abby grinned. “More than a few seconds, but they were definitely hot.”

“Na-na-nanananna,” Carson singsonged, pretending to poke her fingers in her ears.

Abby smiled.

Enjoying the silliness, Mari tried to imagine telling her parents she was planning a wedding with another woman as if it would be a foregone conclusion everyone would celebrate. She couldn’t see a happy reception, although she didn’t have any difficulty picturing the woman who’d be part of her planning. Heat climbed into her face. She needed to stop thinking about Glenn like that, and she’d be able to, if she wasn’t surrounded by women who were in love with other women. That had never happened to her before. She knew lesbians and gay men, but only casually. None who were her close friends, anyhow.

Another seismic change in her life. Now her cousin was a lesbian and she was making friends with women who were completely comfortable with their sexuality and who seemed to have families who took it all for granted too. She wondered if her family would ever be able to do more than accept her, let alone welcome whatever joy she might find in her life with a woman. She pulled herself back from the brink of that abyss. She couldn’t change what her family did or whether or not they embraced her. All she could do was live her life as honestly as possible. She knew she was right, but that was little comfort sometimes.

“By the time dinner comes around tomorrow,” Carson said, “it won’t be much of a secret. I guess just Mom and Dad.”

“We haven’t told Blake about it yet,” Abby said. “We were going to do that this morning, but he had something he needed to talk to us about instead.”

“Is he okay?” Presley asked.

“He’s great,” Abby said. “He wants to go ahead with his top surgery, so we had to have a family discussion about all the details.”

“Wow,” Carrie said softly. “That’s a big deal.”

Abby nodded. “It is, but it’s also the next logical step, at least for him. He’s been moving toward this since he was fourteen, and the surgery—or rather the effect of the surgery—is important for him and for his sense of self.” Abby looked at Mari. “My son, Blake, is transitioning.”

“He’s lucky,” Mari said softly. “He’s lucky to have you, all of you. I…I wish…”

Carrie gave her hand a squeeze.

“It’s not exactly the same thing,” Mari said, tearing away another layer of self-insulating protection, “but my family has pretty much exiled me since I told them I was a lesbian.”

“It is the same thing—or at least, it’s all part of the same fabric of difference,” Abby said gently. “I’m sorry to hear about your family’s reaction.”

“Thanks,” Mari said. “I’m glad for you and Blake. He sounds a lot braver than I was at his age.”

“Me too,” Carrie muttered. “I was still trying to convince myself I actually liked kissing boys more than girls.” She grinned. “I quit that after a year of kidding myself.”

Mari smiled at her gratefully. She didn’t feel quite so clueless knowing everyone hadn’t known about themselves forever.

“Is Flann doing the surgery?” Carson asked.

“That’s part of what we talked about this morning,” Abby said. “Blake wants her to do it, and Flann is very experienced with the procedure. Glenn will assist, so I know they’ll have a good team. It’s pretty straightforward, and we’re all comfortable with it.”

“Well, I’d let those two operate on me anytime,” Carrie said in a suggestive voice.

Abby raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid at least one of them is off the table.”

“Ah, well,” Carrie said with an exaggerated sigh while shooting a glance in Mari’s direction, “I guess I’m totally out of luck, then.”

Mari pretended she wasn’t blushing.

“And I’ve already got my Rivers sister,” Presley said. “So there go all the hot, sexy ones—”

“Okay, I’m still here,” Carson said loudly. “Sisters, remember? And I already know how gorgeous they are. I had to grow up in their footsteps.”

Carrie patted her knee. “Believe me, if you had been headed in that direction, you’d have been fighting off the girls.”

Carson laughed. “Yeah, I’m the outlier. Well, I don’t know about Margie at this point, but I’m the boring straight one.”

Everyone laughed and Mari let herself be drawn into the closeness, the easiness of being who they were, the acceptance of difference. And when her image of a sexy woman didn’t conjure any of the Rivers sisters, she didn’t resist. Just for a minute.

“Speaking of gorgeous women,” Carrie said, “I believe I hear a truckload of them on their way.”

A big dusty black pickup truck rumbled into the far end of the yard, the doors swung open, and few seconds later, Harper, Flann, Glenn, Blake, and Margie clambered out and trooped across the yard.

“What did Lila make for breakfast?” Margie called, hopping up onto the back porch.

“Too late,” Carrie said. “The bread basket is empty.”

“No,” Blake and Margie shouted at the same time.

Laughing, Carrie pointed to the screen door. “Cinnamon rolls and blueberry muffins. There might be one or possibly two left.”

Margie and Blake slammed into the house. Flann leaned down and kissed Abby as Harper slid over by Presley’s rocker.

“Is everyone done with the planning?” Harper asked as she cupped Presley’s nape, long fingers stroking her throat.

“You know, we could probably find some chores for you to do,” Presley said, sliding her fingers over Harper’s. “It’s really not fair that you just need to show up and look handsome at the wedding.”

“Hey,” Harper protested, “I’m helping my mother with the guest list. Believe me, that’s work.”

“An excuse,” Presley said, “but a good one.”

Mari lost track of the playful back and forths, too busy watching Glenn brace her arms on the railing and lift herself up onto it in a quick fluid move. She perched at the edge of the gathering, watching, laughing occasionally, now and then making a comment. As much as she was a part of everything, she was also alone. An island. Her solitude called to Mari in some deep place and she desperately wanted to be beside her, to ask her…anything—how her night was, if she’d heard about Blake’s surgery, if she thought the clear blue sky was as amazingly beautiful as Mari found it.

Glenn glanced over and met Mari’s gaze. The pull on her consciousness was so fierce, Mari swore Glenn knew what she was thinking. She couldn’t even pretend her next move was against her will, not when she rose, skirted the ring of rockers, and leaned against the railing on Glenn’s far side, out of earshot of everyone. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Glenn said.

“I can’t believe everybody was piled into that one pickup truck. Why didn’t you all bring more cars?”

“I’m designated driver for anybody who needs a ride after the barbecue today. Well, the kids won’t be drinking, but the others might want a beer or two.”

“I could do that,” Mari said. “I’m on call tonight, so I won’t be drinking. If you wanted to have a drink.”

“I can take it or leave it,” Glenn said. “But thanks.”

“If you change your mind, just let me know.” Mari started to move away and Glenn caught her hand. She stilled, every muscle in her body instantly frozen midmotion, lest she move too far away and the contact disappear.

“If you want to ride over to the barbecue with me, I can get the kids to ride with Carrie. Flann and Harper will probably ride over with Presley and Abby.”

“Thanks,” Mari said. After all, that’s what friends did, right? Enjoyed each other’s company. “I’d like that.”

For one endless moment, Glenn’s hand tightened around hers before slipping away. “Good. Me too.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Are you about ready to head over?” Glenn asked when Mari returned to her side during a lull in the animated exchanges about caterers, menus, tents versus no tents, and the advisability of elopement. Currently the latter was off the table.

“Whenever you are,” Mari said, “but I should check with Carrie first. Make sure she doesn’t need me. I came over with her earlier.”

“Sure. No rush.” Glenn was content to sit with the sun on her back, listening to her friends plan the future and watching Mari slowly becoming one of their group. She had an easy way about her, joining in the conversations where it was natural, easing back from the personal exchanges, and absorbing the good-natured teasing that flowed between siblings and old friends in all directions indiscriminately. When Mari laughed, her face glowed and her pleasure rippled over Glenn’s skin like warm currents of summer air. She wasn’t just beautiful then, she was indescribable.

“Did you eat?” Mari asked.

“Eat?” Glenn flailed, still lost in the image of Mari with her head thrown back, red lips parted on a full-throated laugh. It wasn’t hard to imagine her fingers trailing down that sleek throat, her mouth covering those full, moist lips. “Breakfast, you mean?”

Mari laughed. “Exactly. You know, the stuff you ingest when you wake up in the morning. In addition to that excellent coffee that…actually, did you have any this morning without my personal delivery?”

Glenn winced. “I’m sorry to report I had hospital coffee this morning. Not bad, but no comparison.”

“Why?” Mari frowned, sorting through her memories of the on-call schedule. “Wasn’t Adams on last night with…Baker, wasn’t it?”

“Uh, as a matter of fact, yes,” Glenn hedged. “Adams was on last night. Baker too.”

When Glenn shifted a little uneasily on the railing, an unusual action for her, Mari took note. Glenn never appeared uneasy, but Mari had an idea she knew why. “And…are we getting to the part where you were there too?”

Busted. Glenn sighed. “I might have stopped over for a quick check on the student and…then one thing or another happened.”

Mari nodded. “Friday night. It was busy?”

“Pretty steady,” Glenn said, relieved that Mari didn’t seem aggravated that she’d gone back to the hospital and wasn’t going to take her to task for it. Nice to not have to defend herself. “I was helping Baker with a knee tap on a young guy with a traumatic synovitis and one thing led to another and by the time it got quiet it was after three. Didn’t see much point in leaving then.”

“Probably not.”

Glenn didn’t add there was hardly any point, really, in her leaving the hospital much after sundown, just to go back to her apartment and read until she was tired enough to sleep. She could do that in the on-call room and frequently did.

“Did you get a run in this morning?”

Surprised that Mari seemed to know her habits so well so quickly, and even more surprised that she liked it, Glenn nodded again. “Just after sunup. Getting too damn hot to run later in the day.”

“Obviously, you have forgotten your Texas roots,” Mari said, knocking shoulders lightly. “Isn’t it hot there all the time, regardless of whether the sun is shining or not?”

Glenn grinned. For the first time in a long time, mention of her past and the home she had steadfastly put out of her mind didn’t bother her. “Your eyeballs burn even at midnight.”

“See there? This weather shouldn’t bother you at all.”

“Definitely not the desert, I’ll give you that.” Glenn looked away. She hadn’t meant to bring that up. Uncomfortable that the past simmered so near the surface all of a sudden.

“Not nearly as bad as that, I imagine,” Mari said quietly, dropping her hand onto Glenn’s knee for just an instant, an innocent gesture of comfort that exploded in the pit of Glenn’s stomach with the force of a grenade. Her spine burned all the way up to the base of her neck, but the shock was pleasure, not pain. “You’re right. This is nothing like there.”

“I know, and I’m glad.” Mari tapped a finger on Glenn’s knee. “So, blueberry or cinnamon?”

“Sorry?” Glenn murmured, entranced by the pulse of energy traveling up her leg every time Mari touched her.

“Blueberry muffin or cinnamon roll?”

“Lila’s?” Glenn dragged her gaze away from Mari’s hand, barely grazing her leg now. Why could she still feel it so strongly? She had to stop looking. If she didn’t, in another second she was going to cover Mari’s hand with hers and press Mari’s fingers harder against her thigh. Pull Mari a little closer.

“Mm-hmm.” Mari’s soft voice slipped over Glenn’s skin, fraying the threads of her sanity.

“Any chance of both?” Glenn whispered.

Mari laughed, fingertips trailing lightly over Glenn’s denim-clad thigh for just an instant. “Not with those two in there raiding the kitchen, but I’ll see what I can salvage.”

“I can wait until later to eat,” Glenn blurted. Just don’t move. Just…stay.

“I’m sure you can, but you’re not going to. Just in case, let me get you something to hold you over.” Mari smiled. “Be right back.”

“Be careful.” Glenn’s voice had a faraway ring, as if she were speaking down a long tunnel. As if she had drifted somewhere else.

Mari paused, waiting for the time slip to pass. Waiting to be sure Glenn was completely with her. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Glenn shuddered lightly, as if emerging from a half dream. “I’ll be right here.”

“Good.” Mari left Glenn still perched on the railing, enjoying taking care of her more than she’d imagined. Of course, Glenn had been looking after her pretty much since they’d met, so returning the favor was only natural. And driving the haunted mists from Glenn’s eyes gave her a bone-deep satisfaction she’d never encountered before. She pushed through the screen door, suddenly eager to get back to her.

Blake and Margie perched on stools at the big wooden center island with glasses of milk and guilty expressions.

Mari said, “Did you two leave anything besides crumbs?”

They froze like deer in headlights, each glancing at the other as if for rescue.

“Um…” Margie mumbled.

“I think there’s a couple left.” Blake glanced at the snowy white towel covering the wicker basket on the side counter anxiously. “Maybe.”

“I suppose I could hunt up Lila for instructions on how to make more,” Mari murmured as she checked out the remnants. She found an entire blueberry muffin hidden in a fold of linen and half a cinnamon scone surgically sliced in two. She was surprised to find that much.

Behind her, the sound of wood scraping on the rough stone floor and thudding footsteps signaled the rapid escape of the teenagers. The two of them made her heart hurt, happiness warring with loss. She missed her younger brothers, but the pleasure of being around two such young, vital, and enthusiastic teens warmed her. Smiling, she grabbed a couple of paper napkins, piled her trophies onto them, and carried them victoriously back outside. As she passed Carrie she leaned down. “I’m going to ride over to the barbecue with Glenn, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure.” Carrie shot a glance at Glenn and grinned. “You’d better feed her. She looks…hungry.”

Mari glanced over and heat flashed up her throat. Glenn was staring at her, and her expression for once was anything but cool and remote. Her eyes burned, and not with any half-remembered hell, but something clear and present and very much now. Hungry was a mild word for her unmasked desire.

“I have Lila’s muffins,” Mari murmured, transfixed.

“That might not be enough.”

Not enough. Mari jolted. What was she doing, playing at a game she couldn’t fully join. Playing with a woman who deserved so much more than that. “I know.”

Mari pulled her tattered senses together, joined Glenn, and pretended she hadn’t noticed the gathering storm brewing between them for the past few minutes. She held out the napkin to Glenn. “All that remains of the spoils.”

Laughing, Glenn broke the muffin in half and held out a portion to Mari. “Want some?”

You have no idea. Lord, neither do I. Mari groaned and patted her stomach. “I do, but I’ve already had more than my quota. You go ahead. If you were up all night and you ran this morning, you can handle the carbs.”

“Do you moonlight as a personal trainer?” Glenn asked around a giant bite of blueberry muffin. She closed her eyes and gave a small moan of appreciation. “These can’t possibly be legal.”

“I know, that’s why I can’t eat another bite. And no, I’m far from a fitness nut, but I’ve always been interested in nutrition, and after last year…” Mari surprised herself at how easily she talked about her illness with Glenn. Just knowing that Glenn knew freed her in a way she hadn’t imagined would be possible.

Glenn stopped eating. “What? What about last year?”

“Nothing really. Just that nothing much tasted worth eating for a while,” Mari said lightly, determined not to cast another shadow in Glenn’s eyes. “I try to pay attention to what I’m eating, but there’s some things that you just can’t relegate to a calorie count. Lila’s cooking appears to be one of them.”

“I agree. If you can’t indulge in life’s pleasures every once in a while, what’s the point.”

“Indeed,” Mari said softly.

A minute later, Glenn wiped her hands on the napkin, balled it up, and shot it into a milk pail that doubled as a trash can next to the back door. She hopped down and brushed her fingers down Mari’s arm. “Okay? Ready to hit the fairgrounds?”

“Is that where the barbecue is?”

“Yep. The hospital sets up a tent city on part of the grounds.”

“Great. I’m looking forward to it.” Mari waved good-bye to Carrie as she walked with Glenn across the yard to the pickup.

“Whose truck is this, anyhow?” Mari asked.

“The Riverses’ farm truck—anybody who needs it just grabs i—”

“Hey, Glenn,” Margie called from the porch. “Can we ride with you? We’re ready to go.”

Glenn glanced at Mari, one eyebrow quirked. “I guess I was wrong about there being plenty of room. You good with it?”

Mari laughed and nodded.

“Yeah,” Glenn yelled back, “but you’re gonna have to squeeze in.”

“No problem,” Margie and Blake said in unison as they tore across the yard.

Glenn opened the passenger side, pointed to the running board, and cupped Mari’s elbow. “It’s a big step. Slide over to the middle. Those two will have to fit themselves in next to you.”

“All right.” Mari grabbed the handle just inside above the door with one hand. Glenn pressed close beside her, her hand strong and firm on Mari’s bare skin. As she climbed up, Mari pressed her other hand to Glenn’s shoulder to steady herself. Muscles bunched and tightened beneath her fingers. When she looked down, Glenn was looking up at her, the fierce intensity back in her gaze. Mari settled her hip onto the seat and slowly took her hand from Glenn’s shoulder. Glenn’s hand fell away from her arm. Mari’s throat was oddly tight. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Glenn swung around the cab of the truck while Margie and Blake jumped in next to Mari and slammed the door. Glenn trailed a hand over the edge of the dusty hood, her gait not quite steady. Her thighs trembled as if she’d been running a half marathon and had just hit the wall. Mari had just neatly kicked the feet out from under her, and she’d never seen it coming. Mari was a constant surprise—beautiful, tender and strong, and somehow able to slip at will inside Glenn’s defenses. Glenn didn’t even have to ask herself what she wanted whenever she looked at Mari. She knew with every atom of her being. She’d wanted to kiss her.

Glenn yanked open the door, jumped in, started the engine. “Buckle up, everybody.” She glanced over and saw Margie on Blake’s lap. “That means the two of you too. Figure it out before we get to the road.”

Beside her, Mari had already strapped in. Glenn kept her eyes face front. She wasn’t quite ready to look at her again without broadcasting every damn thing she was feeling. “All set?”

“Yes, fine.”

Mari’s thigh pressed against the outside of Glenn’s, but she had nowhere to move to escape the soul-singeing pressure. She needed to keep her foot on the gas if they were going to go anywhere, but even the slightest movement reminded her that Mari was next to her, very close. She could smell shampoo or perfume or something—a flowery sweet spicy scent that twisted her up and made her want to rub her face over the soft skin that smelled so good. She gripped the wheel until her fingers ached, and even then she could still feel them trembling. She hadn’t been hungry before, but she was ravenous now. And she couldn’t be. Couldn’t do anything about satisfying the need clawing at her insides. Hell, she couldn’t convince herself she wanted to.

Chapter Twenty

Mari watched the fields blur by, an artist’s palette of gold and yellow beneath patches of brilliant blue and gleaming white. The truck bounced rapidly along over ruts and dips in the cracked macadam road, throwing up clouds of dust that coated the windows and slowly hazed the view. On one side of her, Margie and Blake chattered on about their soon-to-be first day in the ER. Mari only half listened, and the two teens didn’t seem to notice they were the only ones talking, oblivious to the rest of the world as only the young could be. On her other side, Glenn had turned to stone. If she became any more rigid, she’d shatter like a statue left unshielded from the elements for so long its substance had begun to crumble. Mari wanted to touch her, to ease the festering tension, but instinct warned that was exactly the wrong thing to do. Instead, she clenched her hands together in her lap and stared out through the windshield, seeing nothing.

A cluster of long barns, random shed-like buildings, and an oval track with a grandstand climbing upward beneath a half roof came into sight. Handmade cardboard signs written with black Magic Marker posted on stakes in the driveways of houses along the way offered parking for five dollars. Glenn passed them all by and turned into the fairgrounds, stopping to pay a woman wearing a Rivers Hospital T-shirt holding a big white plastic collection bucket. A line of signs with arrows proclaiming Parking directed them to the five-acre lot behind the fairgrounds buildings. The grassy lot was three-quarters full, and Glenn drove slowly down a narrow lane between two rows of parked vehicles, following the directions of a line of teenagers waving orange batons to a free spot between a minivan and a pickup truck.

“Thanks, Glenn,” Margie said.

Before the truck had even come to a complete stop, Blake pushed open the door and jumped out. Margie hopped out on his heels.

“Take it easy out there,” Glenn called.

“Thanks, see ya,” they yelled in unison and jogged off in the direction of a cloud of smoke that smelled of roasting meat and hickory.

In an instant the two had disappeared, and Mari and Glenn were alone. Mari’s entire being focused on the spot where her leg still pressed against Glenn’s. She had no excuse to be so close and didn’t want to move away enough to break the contact. Glenn looked straight ahead, her fingers loosely clasping the wheel.

“What shall we do,” Mari asked after a moment that stretched forever.

“I thought we’d walk around a little bit, and I could introduce you to some of the people you’ll be working with.”

“That would be great, thanks.” When Glenn made no move to get out, Mari said softly, “Are you all right?”

Glenn turned to her, eyes glinting feverishly. “I’m not exactly sure.”

Mari’s heart double-timed in her chest. A breathless, light-headed sensation made her feel as if she might be about to float away. Glenn’s eyes bored into hers as if she was trying to read her soul. Glenn’s gaze fixed on her mouth. Glenn looked anything but calm and controlled. Mari swallowed. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“You have no idea,” Glenn muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Mari whispered, and she was. She hadn’t a clue what she’d done, but she would never want to—

“You don’t need to be sorry. I should be”—Glenn cupped the back of Mari’s neck, ran her thumb over the delicate column of her throat—“but I’m not.”

Glenn couldn’t be sorry for desire so pure it felt like a prayer. The air in the cab of the truck was still and hot. Glenn’s pulse beat in her ears like the rattle of machine gun fire. She held completely still, her fingers pressed to supple flesh, waiting for Mari to pull away.

But she didn’t.

“Yes?” Glenn whispered.

“Yes.”

Glenn pulled her closer. Mari’s skin was smooth and soft and warm, like her mouth promised to be. The pressure in her chest pushed up into her throat and her breath stopped. But she didn’t need to breathe. She just needed to kiss her.

Mari’s lips were as sweet and soft and hot as she’d imagined. A low groan churned in her chest. She wouldn’t take much. Wouldn’t presume she was welcome to more. Just a brush of her lips over Mari’s, just a second’s taste to dull the ache of hunger. The whisper of lips turned into something longer, something fuller and firmer and deeper. Mari whimpered and her fingers feathered into Glenn’s hair. Glenn dragged her against her chest, and the kiss wasn’t soft anymore. Her mouth wasn’t nearly as gentle as she wanted it to be but Mari met her, stroke for feverish stroke.

Glenn kissed her until there was no room for breath. She didn’t care if she died just like that, with Mari’s hands on her and the hot taste of her in her mouth. Mari was so pliant in her arms, so wild and welcoming. She needed more. She was starving.

Mari pushed a palm against Glenn’s chest and pulled a little away. Glenn froze.

“Glenn.” Mari’s voice trembled. She shivered, her breathe ragged. “Glenn, we’re sitting in the parking lot. Anyone can see us.”

“I don’t care.” Glenn leaned closer, respecting the space Mari had made between them, until she could kiss just the corner of her mouth. “God, you taste so good.”

Mari’s fingers brushed over Glenn’s mouth. “You have the softest lips.”

Glenn flicked her tongue over the tips of Mari’s fingers. Mari’s eyes widened.

“I feel so strange,” Mari murmured. “Like I’m flying apart, and if I don’t kiss you again, I’m going to go wing off in a thousand directions.”

“Will you come with me somewhere private where I can kiss you again?”

Mari wasn’t thinking, couldn’t think, was so tired of thinking. Her lips tingled, her skin vibrated, and a huge aching ball of need filled her. So many sensations pulled at her—thirst, hunger, want. Want. Oh yes, she wanted that kiss. “Yes, oh yes, let’s go.”

Glenn reached across Mari, grabbed the handle on the open door, and yanked it closed. Only when Glenn gunned the engine, backed out into the narrow lane, and headed toward the exit did Mari manage a coherent thought. “What about the others. Aren’t we supposed to meet them? So you can drive them all home?”

“They’ll be fine. If any of them need me, they’ll text me.”

Mari didn’t argue. Glenn would never slough off a responsibility, and if she wasn’t worried about Flann and the others, Mari wasn’t either.

“Don’t worry.” Glenn’s voice was low and husky.

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Glenn drove at the speed limit, but it felt to Mari as if they were crawling. She pressed close to Glenn again, even though there was plenty of room in the cab now, and this time she gave in to her urge and put her hand on Glenn’s leg. She needed the contact, needed to know Glenn was real, needed to believe the untamed energy swirling between them was real. Glenn dropped a hand over hers and pressed Mari’s fingers into her thigh.

Mari squeezed and hard muscles flexed beneath her fingers. The quick hitch in Glenn’s breath cut through her like a scalpel slash, sharp and swift and terrifyingly wonderful. She immediately wanted to feel the rush of erotic power again. Pressing closer into Glenn’s lean form, her breast against Glenn’s arm, she swept her palm up and down the length of Glenn’s thigh. Glenn twitched as if she’d been shocked.

“Fuck,” Glenn whispered. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

“No, tell me.”

Glenn shot her a swift glance and then cut her gaze back to the road. Her mouth had been tight, the smoldering fire in her eyes leaping into flames. “You’re making me so crazy I can’t think.”

“Neither can I.” Mari wanted things she’d never imagined wanting. Her secret fantasies had been nothing like this. “I’ve never felt this way.”

Something in her voice must have betrayed her uncertainty.

Glenn looked at her again, the fire banked, tempered by concern. “Are you afraid?”

“No, no.” Mari gripped Glenn’s leg tighter than she intended and Glenn’s hips flexed. Heat flared between Mari’s thighs. “Never afraid of you.”

“Then you don’t have to think.”

Glenn swung the truck down a narrow alley and pulled in behind a building. Mari finally focused on their surroundings and recognized the rear of Glenn’s apartment building. She caught her breath.

“All right?” Glenn murmured as she turned to her, her fingers tracing the edge of Mari’s jaw.

Mari swallowed. If she went inside, what was she saying? What did she want? She still didn’t know, but she wanted to find out. She nodded.

Glenn cut the engine, jumped out, and ran around the front of the truck. She jerked open Mari’s door and reached for her hand. “Come on.”

Mari slid over and started to climb out. Glenn’s hands grasped her waist, and she was lifted to the ground. When her feet touched the earth, Mari wrapped her arms around Glenn’s shoulders and, cleaving to her, pressed her mouth to Glenn’s throat. She tasted salt and heat and desire. “You have a beautiful throat. You are beautiful.”

With a faint groan, Glenn tilted her head back, offering herself. She buried her fingers in Mari’s hair and pressed Mari’s mouth closer. “If you keep that up, I won’t get up the stairs.”

Mari touched the tip of her tongue to the delicate skin over Glenn’s racing pulse. Glenn trembled, a fine shudder rippling through her body. Mari’s heart leapt and a fierce thrill raced through her. Mari laughed. “Then we should go upstairs now, because I want to do that again.”

With a low growl, Glenn grabbed Mari’s hand and tugged her up the winding staircase, across the narrow deck outside her door, and into a small, neat apartment.

Glenn stopped just inside the door and framed Mari’s face with both hands. She kissed her softly. “Bedroom?”

“I…yes,” Mari whispered. What should she say…what could she say? I’ve never done this before, I don’t know what I want, I want everything and so much more? “But I’m not sure…”

“It’s okay, I just really, really need to kiss you again. Whenever you want to stop, you just tell me.” Glenn’s jaw tightened, the hands cradling Mari’s jaw flexing as if holding back a storm. “Please, I need you.”

Mari nodded. She couldn’t imagine wanting to stop, not when she’d never felt as alive as she did in that instant. “Yes. Show me.”

Wordlessly, Glenn took her hand again and led her through the small neat kitchen, across an equally neat but sparsely furnished living room, and into a bedroom with a single bed against one wall, a dresser with a row of precisely arranged bottles and other objects, and a slatted wooden chair beside it. Sunlight slanted through a single window across the foot of the bed, and hazy air blanketed the room. Glenn kicked off her boots and sat on the side of the bed, drawing Mari between her spread thighs. She wrapped both arms around Mari’s waist and pressed her cheek to Mari’s stomach. “We’ll go as slow as you want.”

Mari stroked the back of Glenn’s neck and shoulders. “I don’t know what I want, except I want to feel you.”

“Go ahead.”

Mari edged closer between Glenn’s thighs and caressed the length of Glenn’s back, tracing the tight muscles along her spine and between her shoulders. She slid her hands inside Glenn’s collar and dipped her fingertips into the delicate hollows above her collarbones.

Quivering, her insides in knots, Glenn stayed as still as she could, letting Mari explore her, every muscle so tight she felt as if they might shred from her bones. When Mari lowered her head and kissed the angle of her jaw, Glenn’s vision wavered.

“Can we lie down?” Mari asked almost dreamily.

Glenn couldn’t refuse her, as dangerous as that would be. She could never remember need so powerful her insides hurt. She swung around, guided Mari down to the bed, and stretched out beside her. Turning on her side, she rested her hand on Mari’s hip. Mari inched nearer, her lips flushed and swollen from their kisses, her eyes wide and dark and moist. Glenn kissed her.

“You’re beautiful, Mari.”

Mari gripped Glenn’s shirt, her hips rocking insistently against Glenn’s. “Do that some more.”

Laughing softly, Glenn followed orders.

Kissing Mari was like discovering water in the desert and greedily filling the barren places inside that had lain parched and empty after the wastelands of the world had drained her dry. Mari arched against her with a moan, and Glenn’s body came alive with a jolt. She eased on top of her, her thigh between Mari’s, her weight resting on her elbows. She kissed Mari’s mouth, the tip of her chin, the hollow at the base of her throat. Mari’s hands scattered over her back, exploring, restless and demanding, setting Glenn’s flesh aflame.

Mari tugged Glenn’s shirt from the waistband of her jeans and found skin. When she skimmed her fingers over the hollow at the base of Glenn’s spine, Glenn stiffened.

“Easy,” she murmured. “You’ll make me forget my promise to just kiss.”

“I don’t care,” Mari gasped. She loved the weight of Glenn’s body over hers, the feel of their legs entwining, the ache that pounded in the pulse between her thighs. “It feels so good. I want you to touch me. Will you touch me?”

Glenn eased a hand under the bottom of Mari’s top, caressed her middle, thumb brushing just below her navel. “Tell me what you like.”

“I…I don’t know. Whatever you’re doing. It’s wonderful. I never thought it would be like this.”

Glenn stilled, her palm pressed to the bare skin of Mari’s stomach. Something clawed at the surface of her addled brain, a warning bell, clear and sharp. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“God, I just want you to make it stop—whatever, anything, I don’t care.” Mari bent one leg over Glenn’s, lifted her hips, pressed full-length against her. God, she couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t stand the churning fire between her thighs another second. “Anything.”

“This isn’t the first time?”

Mari struggled to make sense of words while drowning in sensation. “What? Oh. Yes.”

“Ever?”

Clarity rushed in, doused the fire melting Mari’s reason. She pulled back, read worry in the lines in Glenn’s brow. “Does it matter?”

“Hell, yes.” Glenn pushed herself off, leaned up on an elbow, and studied Mari’s face. “You were the one who said no involvement, no intimacies.”

“What difference does it make if I’m a virgin?”

“Because this is pretty damned intimate, especially if you’ve never done it before. Why now? What’s changed?”

“I don’t know.”

“No, neither do I.” Glenn didn’t know what she’d been hoping to hear—that Mari had changed her mind, that she’d discarded her self-imposed exile until she was sure she would remain disease free? Maybe, if she was honest with herself, she’d been hoping to hear Mari wanted her enough to say Fuck waiting. But Mari hadn’t changed her mind, she hadn’t even been aware of where they were headed, and she’d be damned if she’d take advantage of the heat of the moment. Not when Mari was likely to regret it before morning. “But I know you ought to think about what you’re doing.”

Mari sat up, anger and hurt twisting in her middle. “Don’t you mean you need to think?”

Glenn frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Mari drew her knees up and folded her arms around them. “You were willing to have sex a minute ago.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Glenn ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe I was, but I thought…I don’t know what the hell I thought.” Only what she’d hoped. She stood up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Shouldn’t have started this.”

Mari jumped up on the other side of the bed and straightened her clothes with as much dignity as she could manage after being so soundly rejected. “Apparently I misread things. No need to apologize.”

“Mari, I didn’t mean—”

“Let’s not embarrass each other anymore. It was just a kiss, after all.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Glenn left Flann’s truck at the end of one of the back rows near the fairgrounds exit and texted Carrie and Abby with the location so they could find it when they were ready to leave. After locking up and sliding the keys between the front wheel and the wheel well, where they always stashed the keys, she cut across the dusty lot and threaded her way through the crowd. The celebration was in full swing and every few steps someone would call out her name. She waved and kept going, making a beeline for the big Future Farmers of America tent. The smell of grilling hamburgers hung over the crowd along with the almost palpable sense of good cheer. Neither penetrated the careful lock she kept on her thoughts and feelings. Her mind was a blank, her body registering neither hunger nor the heat of a mid-July afternoon. She spoke to no one as she stood in the line that slowly inched forward, and something about her air of indifference must have reached those around her. No one attempted conversation, and finally she reached the counter.

“I’ll have a beer,” she said to the balding, heavyset EMT she saw on average three times a week in the ER. When he wasn’t on shift with the local emergency response unit, he was a volunteer with the local FFA chapter. An all-around good guy.

“Hey, Glenn. Coming right up.”

A shoulder bumped hers. “Make that two, Jimmy.”

His smile broadened. “Sure thing, Doc.”

Glenn glanced at Flann. She didn’t believe in coincidences.

Flann grinned, not even bothering to pretend she’d shown up by accident. “Abby said she got a text from you and you ditched your designated driver status. I figured I’d catch you here.”

“Uh-huh.” Glenn took her beer and turned to go.

Flann grabbed hers and fell into step. “You just get here?”

Maybe if she ignored her, she’d go away. Glenn grunted.

“Big crowd.”

Glenn saw no reason to comment on the obvious. All the hospital gatherings drew big crowds. More than half the people in town either worked there, had friends who did, or came out to support what was essentially a fundraising event for the place.

“Where’s Mari?”

“She’s got a shift tonight and decided not to come.” Glenn didn’t have any better explanation, at least not one she intended to share. She’d offered to drive Mari home, but Mari had insisted she’d wanted to walk. She couldn’t object and had stood by wordlessly while Mari gathered her things and left with a hasty and abrupt good-bye. The silence had been cutting, but what could she say? She couldn’t apologize for the kiss, pretend it hadn’t mattered. She also couldn’t ask Mari to change what she wanted, and didn’t want, in her life. Both of them had been riding a wave of insanity, fueled by passion and finally beached by reason. They worked together, they were already friends, more than friends, and jumping into bed together would be a huge mistake. Mari didn’t want a relationship, didn’t even want any kind of intimacy that might lead to one, and neither did she. There’d been nothing else to say.

“You know what we haven’t done for a while?” Flann said conversationally after they’d walked in silence and ditched their empty plastic cups in a recycling bin.

“What?”

“Gone one-on-one. Let’s go shoot some hoops.”

Glenn stopped and stared at her. “Now? In the middle of the hospital barbecue?”

Flann lifted a shoulder. “I said my hellos to just about everybody, Abby’s hanging with Carrie and the others, and I had my two obligatory cups of lukewarm beer.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

“Out of practice, I guess.”

Glenn cut her a glance. “When’s the last time you played?”

“I kicked Margie’s ass just a couple days ago.”

Glenn snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Everyone knew Margie had a wicked jump shot, and even though she was a couple inches shorter than all the other Rivers sisters—and Glenn, for that matter—she was whippet fast and had hands of gold. “That’ll be the day.”

“Come on. Two out of three.”

The night stretched endlessly before her. Mari was working nights all week, which meant she couldn’t drop by the ER and hang around at night. She had nothing to look forward to for the rest of the weekend. Hell, for the week, when it came to it. She caved. An hour of sweating and listening to Flann taunt her about how slow she was getting might chase some of the dark from her head. Maybe. Worth trying anyhow, since the prospect of drinking lukewarm, weak beer for the rest of the night held no appeal. “Sure. Why not.”

“Lend me some clothes?” Flann added.

Glenn nodded, Flann texted Abby she was leaving, and fifteen minutes later Glenn pulled around behind the high school where the Rivers siblings had all gone to school. The basketball courts adjacent to the parking lot were empty. The whole place was empty. Everyone was at the fairgrounds. They piled out and silently strode to the court.

Flann played basketball the way she did everything else, with an arrogant flair that sometimes appeared like recklessness but rarely was. She drove hard, took unanticipated shots, and often managed to win by doing the unexpected. Glenn was a precision player, feinting, cutting right and left, picking the percentage positions from which to shoot. Over the dozens, hundreds of games they’d played, they were almost dead even.

Flann sank a basket and backpedaled as Glenn retrieved the ball and dribbled.

“You’re off your mark today,” Flann called, the merest taunting tone in her voice.

Glenn ignored her, dropped her shoulder as Flann made a lunge for the ball, pivoted away, turned, and lofted a long jumper. It hit the rim, teetered, and fell back to the court without going through. Any other day she would have made that shot.

Flann scooped up the rebound, sped back out to half court, and one-handed an impossible shot that hit the backboard, angled down, and swirled around the rim before dropping through. Luck, nothing else, riding on the wings of supreme confidence and innate skill.

“So what happened with Mari?” Flann called as Glenn went for the ball.

Glenn ignored her, dribbling, driving, shooting. Sweat dripped into her eyes and stung, the burning oddly welcome.

“You two having problems working together in the ER?”

“No. Mari’s good. Fits right in.”

“Abby said the same thing.” Flann muscled Glenn from inside, shot out an elbow and caught her in the chest, stole the ball. She circled, dribbling casually, making no move toward the basket. “I didn’t think that would bother you. Her being strong.”

“Why would it?”

Flann shrugged, picked up speed, drove to the basket and hit a layup. “It’s pretty much been your show for a long time.”

“I’m not you.”

“True.” Flann grinned. “There can only be one captain, and we all know who that is.”

Glenn reflexively caught the ball Flann shot at her before it struck her in the chest. Ass. She dribbled, took a halfhearted shot that didn’t go in, and stalked toward the side of the court. “I’m done.”

Flann took one more lofting overhand shot, sank it, and retrieved the ball. She caught up with Glenn halfway to the truck.

“What’s Mari’s story, do you know?” Flann asked casually.

“What do you mean?” A prickling sensation started between Glenn’s shoulder blades, half itch, half irritation. She should have passed on the B-ball. Flann’s competitive streak never annoyed her, but then she wasn’t usually in such a black mood.

“Single, girlfriend, boyfriend, you know. A couple of people were asking.”

Glenn stopped, studied Flann’s face. Flann might have been baiting her, but her eyes said she was telling the truth too. And why not. Mari was beautiful, new in town, and everyone always welcomed the possibility that newcomers offered.

“If anybody wants to know, they should ask her themselves.”

“I kind of got the idea you were thinking along those lines yourself.”

“Let it go.” Glenn yanked the cab door open, tossed the ball into the narrow space behind the seats, and jumped in.

Flann sprinted around to the other side and hopped in.

“She shut you down?”

“What part of leave it alone don’t you get?”

Flann shifted until her back was against the door and she was facing Glenn. “Well, I’ve known you for what, three years now? I’ve spent more time with you than anybody I know, even Abby and Harp. I don’t think I’ve ever known you to have a date.”

Glenn started the truck, but left it in park. A tangle of angry frustration twisted in her chest. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Mari, but something kept her pinned in place. Flann’s voice droned on, and all Glenn heard was Mari’s name. She could still feel her, as if the unique texture of Mari’s flesh had been tattooed beneath her skin. She could still taste her, that light teasing scent drawing her into a some long-forgotten, pure place where hope still lingered. The beer and the workout hadn’t drained the heavy pull of desire that thrummed in the pit of her stomach.

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Do you want there to be?” Flann’s voice had lost all its levity, had taken on the quiet, steady tone she used when talking life and death with the patients they cared for.

“Doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Bullshit, it doesn’t.”

Glenn shot her a look. “She’s not ready.”

Flann snorted. “So you just quit?”

“Yeah.” Glenn shoved the truck into gear and gunned the truck toward the street. “I do.”

*

Glenn slept little, rose early, and didn’t have the energy to go for a run. Not that she was tired, only that her spirit was weary. She made a cup of coffee and sat out on the back porch, watching the sun come up and thinking about Mari. She would’ve liked not to, at least part of her would. A bigger part of her enjoyed thinking about her, recalling glimpses of her sitting in this very spot, her dark hair gleaming in the sunshine, her smile open and warm; the sight of her bending over a patient, focused and empathetic and just as warm and welcoming professionally as she was personally; gently taking Antonelli to task for leaps in logic, even though more often than not he ended up at the right conclusion. Discipline, Mari reminded him, would make him stronger. He understood that logic.

Glenn smiled to herself. So did she. Mari intuitively grasped the warrior spirit.

She drained her coffee cup and considered canceling her open invitation to Sunday dinner at the Riverses’. She hadn’t wanted to pull back into her own private bunker this much in a very long time. Walking wounded, they called people like her. No visible blood, a few scattered scars that didn’t amount to much of anything, but inside, an indefinable place that didn’t heal and only seemed to bleed when feelings got through. Mari had gotten through in the span of a heartbeat.

She stood abruptly, shoving her chair back. Enough self-pity. Flann and Abby were making their big announcement today. She said she’d be there, and she couldn’t back out. She’d never been one for that. She didn’t regret a single choice she’d ever made, except one. Except giving in to the sweetest enticement she’d ever known. The kiss stayed with her, still tingled on her lips, still simmered in her depths.

And she was glad.

*

Flann greeted her on the wide back porch that looked down over acres of green to the twisting river beyond when she pulled in a little after noon.

“Glad you made it,” Flann said.

Glenn hopped up onto the porch. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Flann gave her a long look. “The thought crossed my mind.”

“Well, you were wrong.”

“One of those rare occasions,” Flann said, grinning.

“Uh-huh.”

Ida Rivers, Flann’s mother, was at her usual place by the stove, the pretty flowered apron, one of many Glenn had seen over the years, covering an even prettier dress she wore beneath. She was a statuesque woman in her middle years, with hints of all her children in her face—and more wisdom in her gaze than Glenn had ever known.

“Hi, darling,” Ida said, sliding a big cast-iron pot with an enormous roast into the center of the long wooden table set with a dozen places.

“Hi, Ida,” Glenn murmured, kissing her cheek when Ida leaned toward her.

“How are you doing?”

The question was innocent enough, but Glenn hesitated just long enough for Ida’s eyes to darken and search her face for a long moment.

Glenn lifted a shoulder. “Well enough, I expect.”

“Well, sit down,” Ida said gently. “I’m glad you’re here.”

And just like that, Glenn was surrounded by family. Edward at one end of the table, Ida at the other, Blake and Margie as usual joined at the hip next to each other, Presley and Harper, Abby and Flann, Carson and her husband Bill and their two-year old bouncing back and forth between them, Carrie and her across from each other. She didn’t have any trouble imagining Mari at the table. She’d fit in right away—effortlessly joining conversations, laughing, probably taking a turn at minding the toddler who thought it was such fun to walk from one lap to the other.

Talk as usual flowed in a dozen directions at once. Glenn had a hard time swallowing the most delicious food she’d ever tasted. Her insides echoed hollowly but nothing could fill her up.

As Ida cut the steaming fresh apple pie at the end of the meal, Flann said, “Abby and I have an announcement to make.”

Carson broke into a wide grin, and Harper chuckled.

“We’re going to get married before the end of the summer,” Flann said.

Ida glanced at Abby, who rolled her eyes ever so slightly.

“Have you actually discussed this with Abby?” Ida asked as she slid a wedge of apple pie onto a plate and passed it to Flann.

“Yeah. Mostly.”

“Before you set the actual date?”

Flann grinned. “Well, that was a little more vague.”

Abby squeezed Flann’s leg under the table, an obvious move apparent to everyone.

“She tends to skip over some of those things,” Abby said sweetly, taking a bite of Flann’s pie. “But this time we agree.” She looked at Flann and kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

Edward said, “That’s settled, then. Give us the details when the three of you”—he looked pointedly from Blake to Abby to Flann—“have worked them all out.”

“Understood.” Flann slid her arm around Abby’s shoulders, as happy as Glenn had ever seen her.

The pie disappeared in a flash, the kids took off for the tree house overlooking the river, and after Glenn helped clear the table, she wandered out to the back porch and sat down on the top step.

A moment later, Carrie joined her. “You’re quiet today.”

“Flann’s show.”

Carrie laughed. “Isn’t it usually with the two of you?”

“More or less.”

“I didn’t see much of you yesterday at the barbecue. Or Mari.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Something happened?”

Glenn watched a fat gray cat, one of half a dozen who lived in the big barn in the adjacent field, stalk a bird that teased it by repeatedly flying just out of reach before landing again. “No.”

“Oh.” Carrie stretched both legs down to the lower step, leaned back on her arms, and tilted her face up to the sun. She was beautiful, her red hair catching the light and gleaming with hidden strands of gold. “Because I thought there might be something going on.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Why isn’t there?”

“What?”

Carrie snorted. “Come on, Glenn. She’s been watching you and liking what she saw. And yesterday you were definitely looking back.”

“You should leave this one alone, Carrie.”

“You’re both family, you know.”

“All the more reason not to go there.”

Glenn stood and Carrie looked up at her. “Someday, Glenn, you’re going to need to let someone in.”

“Not everyone believes in happy endings, Carrie.” Glenn jogged down the path toward her Jeep.

“Life is what you make it,” Carrie called after her.

Glenn drove away, wishing she believed that.

Chapter Twenty-two

Mari worked nights all week, and the only time she saw Glenn was at shift changeover on the mornings Glenn worked. Then their exchanges were all business and took place in the conference room with half a dozen other people. Hardly the place to discuss the kiss that was almost more, not that she really wanted to revisit a scene that still left her confused and unsettled. Every night she expected to see Glenn show up for her usual spot drop-ins, but she never did. Toward the end of the week, she overheard two of the nurses mention it was odd Glenn hadn’t been around, and they laughingly conjectured maybe she’d finally gotten a girlfriend.

Mari tried not to think about that conversation, and especially tried not to imagine Glenn with another woman, kissing another woman with that most amazingly soft, incredibly knowing mouth. She didn’t have very good luck. She kept trying to pinpoint the exact moment when everything had gotten out of hand between them—and just how much she had been responsible for the disaster. Of course, the first kiss was probably the mistake, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it. She’d been kissed before, but never like that. Never so thoroughly, so tenderly, so forcefully, so…right. Glenn’s kiss had been so much more than a kiss, and Mari had been touched by so much more than just the sensual glide of her teasing caresses. Somehow Glenn had managed to make her feel exciting and excited, desirable and so eager for more of…everything. Glenn’s presence, as much as her touch, had ignited some slumbering part of her and awakened a fervor in her body and her heart to experience life at the peak of passion. Beyond the safety net of caution. And of course, she couldn’t, could she. Not now, not yet. Not when she’d barely begun to let herself hope the nightmare was over.

Mari sighed, shelved the last chart from a surprisingly quiet Friday night shift, and watched the clock tick ever closer to seven a.m. Antonelli came into the break room and dropped into a chair beside her.

“Did you finish your backlog of discharge dictations?” Mari asked.

He shook his head. “I got tied up playing Pokémon.”

She laughed. “Do you rule?”

He grinned, looking boyishly handsome and not the least bit apologetic about ditching his paperwork. “But of course.”

“Just remember, if you don’t do your charts, I’ll have to—and if it comes to that, you could find yourself working a lot of nights and weekends. I make the schedule, remember.” Mari’s threat was an empty one, since she knew he’d get the charts done by the deadline, but it didn’t hurt to make him at least think she was immune to his charm. Unlike every other woman in his universe, apparently.

“As long as it isn’t this weekend. My kid sister is home on leave for two weeks, so I’ll be spending most of the weekend at my parents’. Big family get-together.”

Mari’s heart hurt for an instant. Weekends had always meant family time for her too, until first her illness and then her estrangement from those closest to her put an end to the easy sharing. “She’s in the Army?”

“Marines,” he said proudly. “The little squirt managed to work her way into a Huey command and flies support for Special Ops in…well, over there.”

“We’ll get you out of here ASAP, then.”

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat and looked away briefly. “So. How about you? Doing something fun with the rest of your weekend?”

“Nothing special.” Mari envisioned the weekend spreading slowly before her and tried again not to think of Glenn, who she knew was off call as well. She’d checked the schedule more than once, just to see her name in print. Lord, really silly, but she couldn’t make herself stop. “Still unpacking, decorating. You know.”

“Boy, that sounds lame. You want to come home with me? Always got plenty of food.”

Mari’s throat closed. The kindness of strangers—but Antonelli wasn’t a stranger any longer. Their shared struggles and triumphs had forged a real bond between them. “I’d love to, but maybe not on a special weekend like this one. Rain check?”

“Sure. My mom will try to talk you into marrying me, though.”

Mari laughed. “I wouldn’t want to give her false hope.”

He grinned and shot her another sure-to-melt-most-girls’-hearts look just as Abby appeared in the doorway.

Abby asked, “You two have anything to sign out?”

“I’ve got a thirty-three-year-old in cubicle two,” Mari said. “We’re waiting on micro to report on the urinalysis. Probably just a straightforward UTI.”

“Got it.”

Antonelli straightened, coming to attention unconsciously in his chair. “The guy in six is admitted and waiting for a surgical bed and observation. Probable diverticulitis. They’re trying to quiet it down with antibiotics and fluids.”

“Did he get his first dose of IV meds yet?” Abby asked.

“Yep—triples, all charted.”

“Good. Who’s on call for surgery?”

“Beecher.”

“Did she say she’d be in to see him?” Abby asked.

“Said she’d be by on rounds later this morning.”

“Good enough, then. See you both Monday. Get out of here.”

Antonelli scraped back his chair, got to his feet, and shot past Abby out the door.

“How’s it going?” Abby asked as Mari rose.

“Fine,” Mari said. “How are Blake and Margie doing with their volunteering?”

If Abby noticed her quick change in subject, she let it pass. “They’d stay here around the clock if I let them. They both remind me of Glenn.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, where is she? I haven’t seen much of her all week, and she hasn’t called Flann once in the middle of the night. Did you ban her from lurking here at night?”

Mari forced a smile. “Not guilty! Maybe she’s finally decided to trust the rest of us to take care of things all by ourselves.”

“If she has, it’ll be the first time ever.” Abby laughed. “But I do think it says a lot she’s giving up a little control when you’re on call. She obviously respects your judgment.”

“I hope so,” Mari said, knowing that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’d amply demonstrated just how bad her judgment was in Glenn’s bedroom. Still, she trusted Glenn not to let their personal crossed signals impact their professional relationship. Glenn was too clearheaded and much too honest for that. “She sets some pretty high standards for everyone.”

“None more than for herself,” Abby said, “but you meet them just fine. Oh, by the way, Presley reminded me to let you know you’re invited to the wedding. She just assumed you knew that, and then realized you ought to get a formal invitation. Consider this formal.”

“Oh, but I hardly know anyone!”

“Hey, you’re part of the planning committee now. You have to be there.”

“Then yes,” Mari said softly, “I’d love to come.”

“Great! Carrie will fill you in on the specifics.” Abby waved and turned to go. “Have fun this weekend.”

Mari didn’t answer. She didn’t have the energy to pretend any longer.

*

Mari changed into jeans, a lime-green ribbed tank top, and sneakers in the locker room and tried not to look for Glenn as she walked through the ER on her way out. She couldn’t really help herself, even though Glenn wasn’t on call and, of course, was not around. Hope was hardest to kill when you didn’t actually want to feel any.

Traffic was heavier than usual on a weekend morning, and as she approached the unofficial commons, a grassy three-square-block area in the center of town where people frequently sunbathed or sat about on blankets picnicking or simply relaxing, a huge red hot-air balloon with brilliant blue and yellow stripes lofted into the sky. A roar went up from somewhere just ahead and drew her in that direction. The quiet commons had been transformed. A carnival-like atmosphere encompassed the place—adults congregated with cups of coffee while dogs and children ran about. Food tents offering hot breakfasts, fresh baked goods, and luscious-looking fruit ringed half the square, and half a dozen balloons in various stages of inflation were tethered in the center. A big sign announced the two-day balloon festival. She didn’t know how she’d missed news of the event, but working nights had given her a good excuse to avoid everyone all week.

Now the tantalizing smell of bacon frying drew her to a tent, and she purchased an egg and bacon sandwich on a fresh-baked biscuit. She actually felt hungry for the first time in a week.

“Thanks,” she said, balancing the sandwich in one hand and a cardboard cup of coffee in the other. She turned and almost stumbled into Glenn. “Oh!”

Glenn jumped back, avoiding the coffee slosh. “Hi. You okay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“No, I’m fine. Hi.” Mari stared just to make sure Glenn wasn’t an apparition, considering how hard she’d been wishing she’d run into her. She was dressed in running shorts and a sleeveless V-neck T-shirt. Her hair was damp, her skin lightly misted, and the T-shirt plastered to her chest. She’d been running hard. “Hi.”

God, she was repeating herself.

“I saw you across the field,” Glenn said. “Just get off shift?”

“Uh-huh.” Mari stepped out of the way of a man and woman who wanted to order breakfast.

“Well, I guess I should let you go,” Glenn said awkwardly, backing up a step. “You must be tired.”

“No,” Mari said quickly, “I’m not. I was just getting something to eat. You want something?”

Glenn hesitated and Mari thought she was about to say no. But she nodded after a second. “Yeah, sure if you could lend me some money. I’m light today.”

“My treat. Bacon and eggs okay?”

“Actually,” Glenn said, breaking into a grin, “it sounds fabulous.”

Mari handed over hers. “Here. Take this one. I’ll get another. Coffee?”

“Yeah, please. I’ll grab us a table over by the trees.”

“Great. Just be a sec.” Mari turned away quickly so she didn’t give herself away. Excitement raced through her and she knew her delight in running into Glenn was written all over her face. She really didn’t want to repeat her meltdown of the week before. Really, really didn’t.

*

Mari carried the sandwich and two fresh cups of coffee back to the wooden picnic table Glenn had staked out beneath two tall pine trees. The little shade was welcome. The day promised to be hot and was getting there fast. The square was even more crowded than twenty minutes before. The bright sunny day seemed so fresh and simple. Or maybe she was just happy. Whatever the cause, she intended to enjoy it.

She also intended to enjoy the fact Glenn watched her as she walked toward her. The press of Glenn’s gaze slid over her face and down her body and made her tingle. She loved the way Glenn looked at her, as if she was the only person on Glenn’s horizon. Foolish, she knew, but the feeling of being so central, so valued, struck a chord in her that made her whole body hum.

“Here—let me help.” Glenn rose and took one of the coffees. “I owe you big-time for this.”

“I’ll have to think of some suitable method of repayment,” Mari teased.

Glenn paused, her half-eaten sandwich in her hand. “You do that.”

Mari blushed and pretended to be busy with the sandwich she no longer cared if she ate. Her hunger had suddenly shifted to something far more visceral, and far more dangerous. Glenn looked so damn sexy she ached to touch her.

They sat across from one another, the coffee and sandwiches between them, and ate in silence for a few minutes. The silence felt anything but empty. Mari imagined she could feel the very air crackling between them as if at any moment sparks might burst and jump from her skin to Glenn’s.

“How did you find the night shift?” Glenn asked.

Thankfully, a safe topic. “About what I expected. Eleven o’clock seems to be the witching hour until about one. And then of course, at six it starts all over again. I kind of liked it. I felt really in charge.”

Glenn nodded. “There’s something different about nights. It’s not just the stillness that comes over the hospital, because it’s just as busy, really, but there’s always this sense of anticipation underneath the calm. That anything could come through the door at any minute, and you’re it. It’s all on you.”

“You like that, don’t you? The anticipation. The not knowing what will test you next.”

“You’d think I would’ve learned not to look for that kind of thing, wouldn’t you, but I never lost it. Even when what was coming might kill me, I had that buzz of excitement.”

Mari caught her breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest you enjoyed that kind of danger.”

“It’s okay. I don’t have nightmares about it, at least not when I’m sleeping.”

“But when you’re awake?”

Glenn sighed. “Not even that so much. You don’t have to dream about what you carry around with you. It’s always just there. This itch between your shoulder blades that something’s coming, something you can’t stop, something you might not be able to fix.”

“Are you afraid?”

Glenn’s brows drew down. “No. Maybe angry.” She scoffed. “I’d just like to be able to see what I’m fighting, and that never really happens.”

“Maybe that’s why you like to spend so much time in the emergency room. Because then you know. It’s right there and you can see it.”

“You might be right. But I’m not really sure it matters.”

“No, neither am I. You’ve taken something that you shouldn’t have to live with and turned it into something positive. I’m sorry that you’ve had to do that, but I think you should be proud.”

“Thanks.” Glenn stared down at her hands clasping the cup. “It matters what you think.”

“I think you’re amazing,” Mari said softly.

“Do you have plans this morning?”

The question threw her and she didn’t have an answer, so she didn’t try to think, she just went with what felt right. “No. I’m not working again until Monday. Then I’m switching back to days. I suppose my biggest plans for the day were laundry and vacuuming my rug. It’s a pretty small rug.”

Glenn grinned. “Can’t say that was on my list of things to do.” She stood up. “You mind waiting here for a few minutes?”

“Sure. It’s a beautiful day and I’ve been inside all night.”

“You’re not tired?”

“No!” The last thing she was was tired. Just being around Glenn was exhilarating. She felt better, more alive and more eager for what the day might bring, than she had been all week. “I’m great. Take whatever time you need.”

Glenn paused beside her and touched her shoulder, as if reassuring herself Mari really would stay. “Fifteen minutes. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll wait.” Mari watched her as she ran across the field to the corner and disappeared. They weren’t very far from Glenn’s apartment, and she suspected Glenn was going home to change. She didn’t know why and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Glenn said she was coming back. And if she said she was coming back, she would.

Twelve minutes later she appeared—Mari checked her watch when she saw Glenn striding across the green in black jeans and a snowy white T-shirt, her hair slicked back and damp. She looked even better than she had a few minutes before. She grinned and Mari knew she’d been caught looking. Not just looking—wanting. Too late to pretend otherwise.

When Glenn drew near, she held out her hand. “Come on.”

Mari didn’t even ask where they were going. She didn’t really care. She took Glenn’s hand and fell in beside her, the clasp of her fingers warm and reassuring and as natural as anything she’d ever experienced. When questions tried to surface in her mind, she resolutely put them aside. For the first time in a week, she was happy.

Chapter Twenty-three

“I suppose I should’ve asked you,” Glenn said. “Do you mind heights?”

Mari frowned as they walked across the green, slowing every few feet so Glenn could return a greeting. For someone so reserved, so private, Glenn had touched many lives. She was woven into the fabric of this place and Mari knew why. Glenn cared for the community as much as she cared for the individuals. This was a place where roots ran deep and Glenn had found her place, somewhere she might do the same, if she was lucky. She just wished she believed more in luck. Glenn was waiting for an answer, and looking at her, it was easy to forget the past and its hold on her life. Mari smiled. “Heights? You mean like tall bridges and rooftops? No, they don’t bother me. We’ve got plenty of overpasses in LA, and I’ve ridden over all of them. Major metropolis, remember?”

“Well, this won’t be exactly like that, but hopefully better.” Glenn grabbed her hand and pulled her down a narrow passage between a jumble of air compressors, tanks, and other equipment into a clearing relatively free of people.

A heavyset, florid-faced man in a bright yellow T-shirt tucked into oil-smeared canvas pants strode toward them. “You’re all set?”

“Yeah,” Glenn said.

He held out a clipboard. “I need you both to sign these waivers right here. You know, the usual. You won’t sue me if we all end up in a tree somewhere.”

Glenn signed without bothering to read anything and handed the clipboard to Mari. “Frank is going to take us up for a ride.”

Mari looked at the huge tangle of ropes and yellow-and-red-striped canvas lying on the ground. It looked exactly like an enormous deflated balloon. Which it was. “In that?”

Her voice squeaked and Glenn laughed. “Once he pumps a little air into it and fires up the boiler, yes.”

“You’re serious?”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

Oh yes, she was, but not of going up in a hot-air balloon. She’d never done it before, never even imagined wanting to do it, but if Glenn was going to be there, she wanted to go too. And that’s what scared her. She wanted to go anywhere Glenn wanted to take her.

Mari looked at the other balloons lifting off around them, most with one or two people aboard who looked like they were actually piloting the craft. Really, how crazy was that—relying on a sheet of cloth tied to an open furnace to fly around in. Frank and another younger man in jeans and a red T-shirt turned on an enormous fan, and the long sheet of colorful canvas began to fill and float above them. Mari was intrigued despite her misgivings. When Frank arranged something that looked a lot like a giant Sterno can under the balloon and lit an open flame, Mari gasped. Flames shot up toward the canvas balloon, which suddenly puffed up and went airborne. Long lines attached to large stakes in the ground kept it prisoner.

“You’re kidding. Flames?”

“The hot air makes the balloon rise.”

Mari gave her a look.

Glenn held out her hand in invitation. “So, want to go for a ride?”

Yes, anything, anywhere, for a few minutes more with Glenn. The past week’s shadows evaporated in the brilliant glow of Glenn’s smile. Crazy or not, Mari gripped Glenn’s hand. “Tell me we’re not insane.”

“I promise you’ll be fine.” Glenn was still grinning, but Mari sensed the seriousness behind her light tone. Glenn could be counted on, no matter what. She knew that in her bones. She’d counted on family, counted on her own body, and both had failed her. She should know better than to count on anyone, anything, but the still strength in Glenn’s gaze told her otherwise. This woman she could trust.

“Then let’s go.” Mari headed for the makeshift set of stairs Frank had pushed up against the wicker basket. They teetered as she climbed, and Glenn steadied her from behind with a hand on her back.

The baskets hanging below the other colorful, gas-filled balloons already floating off in the sky looked tiny from the ground, and when she got inside this one, the basket didn’t look any larger up close. A sign had said the basket held five, but Mari didn’t see how. There was barely a foot of space left over with the three of them inside. She glanced at Glenn, who was watching her with a faint look of amusement.

“This really isn’t funny, you know.”

“You did say you didn’t mind heights.”

“You neglected to mention we’d be up in the air in something the size of a cereal box. And is there even any way to steer this thing?”

“These lines right here help with piloting,” Frank said, climbing in with them. “Of course, they’re only good for a suggestion. Mostly the balloon goes where she wants.”

Mari grimaced but held her protest. She was committed now—no quitting.

Frank began untying the tethers and tossing them down to the ground. The basket bounced like a puppy eager to be let off its leash. “You don’t have to worry, miss. I’ve been piloting this rig since I could hardly see over the top of the basket.”

“I hope not this very one,” Mari muttered. “They can’t have a life span of more than six months.” When she watched the canvas lift from the ground as the coiled tube pumped air into it, she didn’t actually think it could have a life span of more than a day or two. She prayed for at least another twenty-four hours. “I’m surprised they all don’t catch on fire.”

Glenn chuckled. “It’s a delicate balance.”

Mari didn’t doubt Frank’s lifetime of experience, but she would much rather have been watching the spectacle from the safety of one of the picnic tables. On the other hand, Glenn offered her a taste of adventure, and this one at least was relatively safe. The only thing that might get broken would be her head, not her heart.

That thought brought her up short. Was her heart really at risk where Glenn was concerned? Her body and her sanity were definitely on the losing end of things—being anywhere in Glenn’s vicinity sent her heart rate into the stratosphere, and other parts of her body jolted awake with a mixture of pleasure and nagging need. Her mind blanked and basic instincts took charge. She was no stranger to the concept of sex or sexual desire, and even if she didn’t have the experience, she knew what she was feeling. Just thinking about Glenn aroused her. The sight of her, the sound of her voice, the merest brush of her hand ignited a flood of desire. She certainly wasn’t going to lie to herself about that. The reaction was natural, Glenn was gorgeous, and she rejoiced that her body had finally recovered from the assaults of the last year. But her heart? No, she hadn’t let things get that far out of hand. For now she’d let herself enjoy the attraction, within reason.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Glenn said gently. “I want you to enjoy it.”

Usually Glenn could read her mind, but thankfully not this time. She didn’t need to know Mari had just been debating whether it was wise to lust after her. As if she could stop it. I want you to enjoy it. Mari smiled. “I know you do, and I will. I want to go up.”

Glenn glanced at Frank. “Good enough. We’re good to go.”

Mari moved closer to Glenn as Frank released the last ropes holding them down. The bucket immediately shot up, swaying rapidly back and forth.

“Oh!” Mari grabbed the rim of the basket that came about to her waist. She had no trouble at all imagining tipping forward and falling out. For an instant, her head spun.

“Got you.” Glenn’s arms came around her from behind, her firm body pressed up against Mari’s back.

“Thanks. Just caught me by surprise.” Mari laughed a little shakily. Maybe heights weren’t her thing after all.

“There’s no way you’re going to fall,” Glenn murmured close to her ear.

Mari had never been held so protectively by a stranger in her life. Glenn wasn’t really a stranger, far from it, but she wasn’t family and Mari wasn’t a little girl anymore. She hadn’t been cradled in anyone’s arms since one of the first nights in the hospital when her mother thought she was going to die. This was something completely beyond her experience, and she would’ve been happy if Frank the balloon man flew them across the entire country and beyond, as long as Glenn stayed behind her with her arms around her, holding her as if she always had and always would.

“Better?”

When Glenn moved as if to release her, Mari folded her arms over Glenn’s to keep her in place. She leaned back just a little until she was in complete contact with Glenn, her back fit into the curves of Glenn’s lean form. “Yes, but don’t move.”

Glenn’s cheek brushed hers. “Fabulous view, isn’t it?”

They weren’t so very high, but Mari felt as if she was floating in the clouds. To the east, the Vermont mountains rose purple and densely forested, the green unbroken by any sign of civilization, their peaks buried in snowy white, clouds or snow, she couldn’t be sure. Could there be snow in the mountains in July here like there was at home?

“Not enough to ski on, but it gets pretty cold up there,” Glenn murmured, reading her mind again.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Yes.” Glenn’s voice sounded low and husky and Mari wondered, hoped, she wasn’t talking about the mountains.

To the west, the village quickly gave way to rolling hills and pastures. The nearest city wasn’t even visible on the horizon, creating an otherworldly sense of passing back in time. Birds swooped below them, soaring from tree to ground and up again. People on the ground, small colorful patches of them, waved as they passed overhead.

“Oh my God.” Mari laughed, pointing when they passed above a large, elaborate out-of-place mansion in the midst of acres of green, clearly meant to mimic some kind of Italian palazzo. Several people sunning by the pool made a quick grab for towels to cover their nakedness.

Behind her Glenn chuckled, the sound reverberating between their bodies, low and exciting. “Happens at least once every year.”

Mari tilted her head back to look at Glenn behind her. “You always go up?”

“If I’m free.” Glenn rubbed her cheek lightly against Mari’s, her lips just grazing Mari’s ear. It might have been an accident, the bucket swayed so much, but Mari chose to believe it wasn’t. “Always by myself, though.”

“I’m glad you brought me up.”

“So am I.”

“How will we get back?”

“If Frank can’t catch a backdraft and turn us around, there’ll be a chase car that will spot our landing and drive us home.” Glenn rubbed her palm lightly over Mari’s abdomen. “You okay with that?”

“Yes.” As long as Glenn didn’t move, Mari didn’t care how long they’d be up in the air or how they’d get back. If the balloon man dropped them off in some little village a hundred miles away and they had to walk back, she didn’t care. She had no one to report to, no one who would worry about her. And no one she would rather be with. To her disappointment, though, after forty minutes or so, she began to realize Frank was slowly turning them, adjusting for the wind currents, and they began a circling return.

Eventually the square came back into view and Frank adjusted the flame, turning it low, and did something to make the balloon begin to deflate. As the envelope, as she’d learned it was called, grew ever so slowly smaller and looser, they lost elevation. She gripped Glenn’s hand tightly.

“There will be a little bump at the bottom, but nothing much. Frank really is very good.”

“I’m fine,” Mari said, and she was.

The basket hit the ground and skidded. Glenn held her steady and Mari laughed. “God, that was fun.”

“Best ride I ever took,” Glenn murmured.

Glenn’s arms stayed around her, and Mari wanted to turn within the circle of Glenn’s protective grasp and kiss her. She’d never wanted anything so much.

“All set, folks,” Frank called from the ground.

Glenn finally jumped out to wait for her on the short steps that Frank’s helper had pushed across the grass to the basket. When Mari climbed over the edge, Glenn caught her by the waist and swung her down. The movement was smooth and possessive, and a wave of desire poured over her. Feeling as free as she had soaring in the air, Mari let her hands fall onto Glenn’s shoulders and brush down over her chest. When her feet finally touched the ground, she kept her hands where they were. Glenn’s breasts strained against the white T-shirt, her nipples small and hard. Mari’s palms brushed over them, and Glenn gasped.

Mari wouldn’t even pretend she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted her. Had wanted her since the first time they’d touched, since the last time they’d parted. Since Glenn’s kisses and caresses had awakened a need that hadn’t quieted. Glenn had pulled back, ever respectful, ever honorable, because Mari had said she didn’t want a relationship. She still didn’t, but she wanted this.

“I want you to make love to me,” Mari whispered. “Can we have today?”

Glenn couldn’t imagine refusing her. Not when the merest touch of Mari’s fingertips, the brush of her breath over her skin, set her ablaze. She’d barely slept three hours in a row all week. She ached for her, and nothing she could do would put out the flames. A day? An hour? Hell, she would’ve begged for five minutes.

“Yes,” Glenn said hoarsely, knowing she was playing with fire a hell of a lot more dangerous than anything she’d faced in her life. Mari wanted to carve out a chunk of time and set it aside, as if it wasn’t really part of her life, as if that would keep her safe. Keep Glenn safe, somehow. But Mari didn’t know there was no way to ever be safe. Glenn didn’t care—she’d learned to stop caring about safety a long time ago. “Now?”

“Oh yes. Now.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Glenn clasped Mari’s hand as they threaded their way through the crowd and left the commons behind. She kept her grasp loose, giving Mari a chance to pull away if she wanted, giving her a chance to leave if she needed to, if she changed her mind. Her heart hammered and she tried not to think about Mari walking away. Switching off her brain was something she’d had a lot of practice with, in the midst of battle, out on the field or in the emergency room. She could run on autopilot, all her senses alert and finely tuned, locking her emotions away while she fought death. Sometimes keeping the pain and anger and despair locked away meant locking everything else away too, a fair price to pay so she could do her job. She couldn’t seem to manage autopilot with Mari, though.

The Kevlar casing surrounding her heart was cracked wide open, letting feelings in and, maybe even worse, feelings out. Longing for Mari burned inside her chest, created an ache in the pit of her stomach, kept her restless and awake all night. But just like that, the touch of Mari’s hand, her smile, her laughter banished the ache and replaced it with something sweeter. Something she’d never experienced and never thought she needed. A taste of honey in the desert.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Mari said softly.

Glenn smiled wryly. “How come you can read my mind?”

“How come you can read mine?” Mari shot back gently.

Glenn glanced at her. “I don’t know. It just happened.”

Mari nodded. “I know what you mean. Maybe some things there are no answers to.”

“What do we do, then?” Glenn mused, trying to see over the horizon and finding only shadows. “When there are no answers?”

“Maybe we just believe.”

“Can you do that?”

“I wish I could,” Mari said softly, striving for honesty because Glenn deserved that. “Until a year ago, I believed without question in so many things. In the unconditional love of my family, in my place in the world, in my future. Now all those things have changed. I’m not sure when or if I’ll be able to believe again.”

Glenn hadn’t really expected anything different. Mari had said in a million ways that she’d lost faith, lost trust, lost believing. Two years she’d said, as if setting some kind of milestone that she needed to reach, as if when she got there all those feelings would suddenly be switched on again. Glenn didn’t think that would happen. She’d thought her faith and trust and hope had been switched off forever, but Mari had changed that. She didn’t mind as much as she thought she might. She might not be happy about that tomorrow, but today was all that mattered. For now.

“I’m going to need to take a shower,” Mari said as she walked down the alley to Glenn’s apartment. “I came straight from the hospital and thought I was going right home. Do you mind?”

“No,” Glenn said. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

“Good,” Mari said softly. She paused at the landing outside Glenn’s door. “What changed your mind?”

“A lot of things.” Glenn leaned against the building next to the door, put her hands in her pockets, watched the heat waves rise off the blacktop in the parking lot. “I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep this week—I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to see you. How much I wanted to touch you again.”

Mari wanted to smile. She liked hearing Glenn had been almost as miserable as she’d been. “Is that why you stayed away from the ER?”

“Partly.” Glenn shrugged. “I figured you didn’t want to see me.”

“You were wrong.” Mari leaned close enough to tap a fingertip to Glenn’s chest. “I was hurt at first—”

“Cripes, I’m sorry,” Glenn said.

“At first. I’m fine now—I understand why you backed off. I probably would have too, right then. I did tell you I didn’t want to get involved, and under the circumstances, you respected that.”

“And today?”

“Today is today.” Mari tapped her again. “Can we agree on that right now?”

Glenn nodded. “I don’t plan on changing my mind either.”

“Good.” She shivered despite the blazing weather. “Can we go inside?”

Glenn grabbed her hand. “Hell, yes.”

Once inside, Glenn showed her where the bathroom was and handed her clean towels. “Take your time, there’s plenty of hot water.”

Mari gave her a long look. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make this part quick.”

Glenn’s heart did that rapid-fire machine-gun thing in her chest again and she actually had to work to catch her breath. “Do you need anything else? Something to drink? Something to eat?”

Mari held the folded towels against her chest and moved closer, wrapping her free hand around the back of Glenn’s neck. She tugged her head down and kissed her, a slow, smoldering, smoky kiss that scorched Glenn’s nerve endings all the way to the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet. She was surprised she didn’t burst into flame like a rocket flare. She groaned against Mari’s mouth.

“I don’t need anything except more of that,” Mari whispered against Glenn’s lips.

“Then it would be good if you’d hurry,” Glenn murmured.

Mari paused at the door. Should she invite Glenn into the shower with her? Wasn’t that what people did when they were trying to seduce a new lover? She didn’t know, but for some reason, she wanted their first touch to be in bed, when they were stretched out beside each other, when they wouldn’t have to stop and move again until she’d been able to explore every curve and plane of Glenn’s body. Until she’d had Glenn on top of her, touching her everywhere. Summoning her courage, she said as firmly as she could, “I’d like it if you waited for me in bed.”

“I can do that.”

“Naked.”

The top of Glenn’s head was about to explode. Her hands trembled as she slid them around Mari’s waist and kissed her throat. “I’m going to be going crazy until you come back.”

Mari tilted her head back and laughed. She loved the control Glenn gave her, and she’d never had the slightest idea that was a possibility, that she wanted to have a woman go crazy for her. Nothing she’d ever read, nothing she’d ever heard, nothing she’d ever imagined had been so wildly freeing and so incredibly empowering as Glenn’s desire for her. Her nipples tightened and she throbbed deep inside. She needed to hurry as well, while she could still think. “Two minutes. You can time me.”

Glenn chuckled. “Starting now?”

Mari gave her a little push toward the bed. “Start counting.”

Glenn stripped by the side of the bed, pulled down the covers, and was thankful she hadn’t slept much in the last few days. The sheets were fresh and though the air was hot, with the windows open, enough of a breeze stole through to keep them comfortable until sometime in the afternoon. If Mari was still there by then.

Glenn pushed away thoughts of later and lay down, naked, exposed. With other women, the sex had been perfunctory if heated, sometimes impersonal, sometimes friendly. What she wanted now was something far different. She wanted to touch as deeply as she could, and she needed to let herself be touched. Mari deserved that.

The bathroom door opened and Mari appeared, her hair damp and a towel wrapped around her body. “How did I do?”

Glenn pushed up on her elbows. “I think you broke a record.”

“Stay right there. Don’t move.”

Glenn sent her a quizzical look but followed orders. Mari took in Glenn’s naked form. Felt her breath rush out and gasped to pull it back. Glenn was all long lines of muscle and, surprisingly, curves where they ought to be, all of her subtly beautiful.

Mari stopped worrying about whether she would know what to do when the time came. Stopped worrying if she’d made the right decision. Let fear and uncertainty evaporate in the day’s heat like the drops of water from her flushed skin. She loosed the towel and smiled inwardly when Glenn jerked and her eyes took on that dark, intense focus. Mari took her time crossing to the bed, feeling her breasts tighten and lift, her nipples pebble despite the temperature. Excitement raged through her. By the time she reached her, Glenn had shifted until she was sitting on the side of the bed as she had been the very first time they’d kissed here. She opened her thighs and pulled Mari between them, pressing her cheek to Mari’s bare midriff. Skin on skin, fire to flame.

Mari bit her lip and ran her fingers over Glenn’s shoulders and down her back. She’d never get tired of exploring the strength and power beneath the satiny skin. Glenn’s mouth pressed against her belly and the soft heat moved through her, coalescing between her thighs. When Glenn cupped her buttocks and kissed lower, Mari trembled.

“Your mouth’s incredible, but I need to slow down or I’m afraid this will be over all too soon.”

Glenn looked up at her, grinning. “I’m in no hurry, but I have a hard time keeping my hands off you.”

Mari gripped her shoulders and pushed back gently. “That’s a really good idea. Let’s see how long you can not touch.”

Glenn groaned but obediently stretched out on the bed.

“First, I want to touch you everywhere.” Mari knelt beside her. So much to discover. Going slow was going to be a lot harder than she’d imagined, especially with the pressure between her thighs making her head swim.

“You can have whatever you want.” Glenn curled her fingers into the sheets as Mari made a little humming noise and leaned over her.

Mari’s breasts swayed gently, her hair a dark silky cloud around Glenn’s face. Mari kissed her, soft and slow and like she owned her. Glenn liked the feeling. Her thighs tightened and a pulse beat hard between her legs.

Mari eased back and stroked a fiery line down the center of Glenn’s body, tracing the curve of her breasts with her fingertips, teasing the muscles in her abdomen until they tightened with need. When Mari stroked the hollow at the base of Glenn’s belly, she fought not to whimper.

“You have an amazing body,” Mari murmured, brushing her lips over Glenn’s nipple.

Glenn hissed. Mari’s mouth was hot, her breasts just brushing the surface of Glenn’s skin. She wanted to hold them, caress them, taste them. “How much longer?”

“Oh,” Mari mused, fascinated by the way Glenn’s body jerked and trembled when she caressed her, “a while yet. I know you can be patient.”

Once upon a time she could’ve waited motionless, lying for hours in the scorching heat with the threat of death ready to rain down on her, but now her control was rapidly shredding. Her head was light, her belly heavy, the need for release volcanic. She twisted the cotton harder between her fists, her fingers cramping. Whatever Mari wanted, she would give.

“Turn over,” Mari whispered, “I haven’t seen all of you yet.”

Silently, Glenn obeyed, turning her face against the pillow.

Mari wanted to memorize every inch of her, so starkly beautiful, her face etched in passion, but the more she touched her, the closer she came to losing control. Mari caressed Glenn’s back to the hollow at the base of her spine and over the rise of her muscular ass. Glenn’s legs parted as her buttocks lifted, and Mari teased the buttery soft skin high up between her legs.

“Be careful,” Glenn warned hoarsely. “If you go any higher, if you touch me, I’m likely to explode.”

The blood pounded in Mari’s head. She had done this. She had excited this magnificent woman. Need vibrated in the air between them, a living hungering beast. God, she never wanted to stop touching her, but she couldn’t think any longer.

“I need you now,” Mari gasped, caught by the swift surge of desire rushing to her center.

Glenn flipped over and surged upward, pulling Mari down beside her. Her leg was suddenly between Mari’s thighs, pressing tightly into her sex. Her hand cradled Mari’s breast, her mouth on the opposite nipple. Teeth scraped against her, and Mari cried out, driving her hands into Glenn’s hair.

“Oh my God,” Mari cried. “Stop, stop, you’re going to make me come.”

Glenn pushed her hand between them, cupping Mari in her palm and taking her mouth in a dark, possessive kiss. Mari pushed against Glenn’s hand, and when Glenn stroked her once, twice, her world incinerated.

Mari heard a strangled cry, hers or Glenn’s, she couldn’t tell. Her mind blanked, her body quaked. And then her face was buried against Glenn’s chest and she was crying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why—”

“It’s all right, you’re perfect. Perfect.” Glenn stroked her, rocked her, let her come back to herself. “Okay now?”

Mari laughed unsteadily. “Okay? Oh yeah, okay is an understatement.”

“Good,” Glenn whispered, guiding Mari down on the bed and covering her again, needing all of her again. Gently, slowly, she entered her and watched Mari’s eyes go blank with need. This time the build was slower, deeper, and when Mari crested, her eyes flew open and she searched for Glenn’s face, locking onto her as she came apart.

Glenn couldn’t breathe, didn’t need to breathe, didn’t need anything except the look of wonder on Mari’s face. Suddenly weak, she rested her forehead gently between Mari’s breasts, went still inside her, and waited for Mari’s passion to ebb.

“How did you do that?” Mari whispered. “I thought I was going to be in control.”

Glenn laughed and settled down beside her. “Oh, you were. Believe me.”

Mari gazed at her, her eyes still dazed and sated. She traced a fingertip around Glenn’s nipple, then down her belly. “I got sidetracked.”

“Uh, I noticed.”

Mari laughed. “I haven’t finished touching you everywhere yet.”

“Why don’t you rest for a little while.”

“Because I’m not tired. And I’m not done.” Mari pushed Glenn onto her back and knelt between Glenn’s thighs. “I want to see all of you, I want to watch you come.” As she spoke, she traced the outer edges of Glenn’s sex with her fingertips.

Glenn arched off the bed, her jaws clenched. When she managed to suck in a breath, she said, “It won’t take much.”

“That’s all right. We can always do it again, right?”

At that moment, Glenn could only agree. At that moment, there was only now. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. I’m about to come.”

“Good,” Mari whispered softly, stroking, teasing, finding the spots that she liked, discovering the places that made Glenn’s body bow. And when she found the one that made Glenn groan and tighten all over, she didn’t stop until Glenn cried out.

Chapter Twenty-five

The room had grown warmer throughout the morning, and sweat lightly misted Mari’s skin. She should’ve felt self-conscious—she’d never been so close to another human being in her life, never been so exposed, never been so vulnerable. She should’ve been thinking about how to leave, what to say, how to grasp the tattered tethers of control and wind the clock back to a saner time. She wasn’t doing any of those things. For as long as the dream lasted, she wanted to stay in this Spartan room where the merest tease of a breeze danced through the half-open window and the air shimmered with heat as heavy as winter wool. Somehow this room had become the safest place she’d ever been.

“Hungry?” Glenn asked drowsily.

“Mmm. Not sure.” Lazily stroking Glenn’s hair, Mari lay naked with the sheets tangled around her legs, and Glenn’s head pillowed between her breasts. Glenn was the quiet in the center of her being, the peace she’d lost somewhere in the last year, the shelter she’d taken for granted before everything had changed. If she could capture this moment and hold it forever, she thought she would know the meaning of happiness.

“I think your stomach just said otherwise.” Glenn rubbed a hand over Mari’s midsection.

“I’ll take your word for it. I’m having trouble actually feeling my body—I think that last orgasm might have totally short-circuited my nervous system.” Mari brushed damp hair away from Glenn’s temple and kissed her. “Was I asleep the last few minutes or just comatose?”

“I’m not sure people snore while in a coma.”

“I didn’t!” Mari groaned. She didn’t snore. Did she?

Glenn chuckled, a deep rumble that resonated in Mari’s deepest reaches, somewhere beyond the physical, to a place where her soul resided. In an instant, panic roared through her. Safety came with a price, and the price was heartbreak. She knew that, how could she let herself forget? Selfish, foolish, all for a dream she no longer dreamed.