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Moser pushes to his full height. Holding out a hand, he shakes mine when I place it in his. “Welcome back, Dr. Lockwood.”
The pressure in my gut releases even if I know the pain in my soul never will. “Thank you, sir.”
“And Lockwood?”
“Yes?”
“If your family, the hospital grapevine, or my wife ever hears about what I shared with you, I swear I’ll have you suspended so fast, your head will spin.”
I reach his door before I turn and quirk my brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. After I came in, all you did was badger me. Right, Dr. Moser?”
He smiles. For just a moment, I stand there and contemplate what my life would have been like if either of my aunts had actually married him.
Yeah, no.
Shuddering at the very concept, I yank open his office door. Exiting, I know I’ve found some purchase on my riotous emotions instead of free falling through my heartbreak. It’s a small comfort to know I found my way back to one of my homes.
Because the other one I’ll never walk through the door again willingly.
Never again.
From the Journal of Dr. Laura Lockwood
I’m back in Connecticut now. In preparing to return to my ER, I see Alice regularly. In fact, she’s mad at me. I went to talk with Dr. Douche before coming to see her. I finally have closure on what happened and feel at peace—at least about the first run in with the Tiberis. But it’s you and Bailey I truly need to thank for returning to me my humanity. Somehow between delivering the news of a patient’s death and the first cry of agony, it was lost.
In the grand scheme of life, knowing one of those injured caught hold of my soul just before it was lost is a gift I will always treasure. The journey I took with both of you that gave me the desire and fortitude to make the decision to return to work. So, you may never see this, but thank you.
Chapter
Seventy
I should have known better than to have announced my return to work at a family dinner. Immediately, my mother’s older brother, Phil, yells over the furor caused by my announcement, “This calls for a celebration, little girl.”
I glance around multiple farm tables packed to the gills with family and close friends and groan. “Do we have to make such a big deal out of this?”
A resounding “Yes!” was vocalized by everyone, including my mother. Shit. There was no way I was getting out of it.
Phil whips out his phone, shouting, “Thanks to Cass, I can see who’s in town.”
My mother rolls her eyes. “You make it sound like I invented our family calendar last week. It’s only been up for close to thirty years, Phil.”
That sets off a wave of raucous laughter around the room. My father leans over and presses his lips against my mother’s temple. She leans into him, obviously having forgiven him. He studies her face a moment before brushing his nose against hers and pressing his lips to hers in a gesture so ingrained and intimate I have to look away.
It hurts. While I wasn’t with Liam long, I recall our little intimacies—when he’d come lean against the stove. Picking shells up along the beach. The way he’d trail a finger across my skin.
It wasn’t a lot, but it felt like it had the potential for everything.
Now, I’m left with less than nothing.
Nothing but a whole bunch of useless words apologizing to me. What good are words when there’s nothing to back them up? What’s to stop Liam from doing the same damn thing again? What ...
Yanking me from my anguish, Phil shouts in excitement, “It looks like we can manage it tomorrow night. Everyone—and I do mean every member of our family. Good thing you flew back, Peter, or we’d have sent a jet.”
Peter lifts his glass of wine in a toast to our uncle, appreciating the call out. “Always happy to accommodate your shenanigans, Uncle Phil.”
He beams at him before setting an event, trigging a massive amount of pings and ringtones to go off around the room. “Tide Pool, tomorrow night. Seven PM.”
Emily’s husband, Jake, calls out, “I’ve got music covered.”