Page 84 of Crash

“The truth.” All the playfulness dropped from her voice. “Tessa’s so angry and hurt right now that I don’t know if she’ll even bother asking you why. She’s too busy being allI am woman, hear me roar. But she doesn’t know why you push everyone away. Maybe if she did, it would heal that scab over her heart that you just created.”

“I didn’t create—” My words died as the truth of them hit.

Damn it. I had created that. I had hurt Tessa, the last person I ever wanted to hurt.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Oh, I know.” Her voice was gentler now.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“You know how, sometimes, two people can be in a tornado and not see things clearly, but somebody outside the tornado can see it plain as day?”

“Is this the part where you tell me you’re the tornado whisperer?”

“This is the part where I tell you it’s obvious you’re in love with each other.”

The words shattered my ribs. “We can never be together.”

For several reasons, not the least of which was this: The darkness I’d feared was still inside me hadn’t just surfaced; it had found fertile ground and was spreading its roots through myveins like poison. The part of me that had always been capable of violence, the part I’d tried to bury in sterile hospital halls and saving lives, now thirsted for blood. His blood. The man who’d hurt Tessa.

Some might call that romantic, this urge to hunt down her attacker. But they didn’t appreciate the hunger that came with it, the way I caught myself imagining exactly how I’d make him suffer, planning it out with the same methodical precision I used in the ER. They couldn’t see how my hands itched to hurt him, how I looked forward to it with a pleasure that should have sickened me.

I’d killed once before. I knew with bone-deep certainty I’d do it again, and this time, I’d enjoy every second of it. That wasn’t protection or justice. It was darkness, wearing the mask of vengeance. And Tessa deserved better than a man who dreamed of blood.

In response to my declaration that Tessa and I could never be together, Scarlett just shrugged, completely unfazed by what should have been a conversation ender.

“Well then, if happily ever after is off the table, I guess you have two choices with Tessa.” She slid off the counter and headed for the hallway, then turned back with a knowing look that made me wonder if she could see right through me. “Let this be the cancer that cuts her out of your life completely or be honest with her and save your friendship.”

She paused. “Oh, and, Blake? Fair warning: if you choose option one, I will personally make sure every coffee shop in a ten-block radius knows to give you decaf for the rest of your life.”

After watching her disappear down the hall, her words echoing in my eardrums, I looked down at my bruised knuckles, wishing they’d made a satisfying crunch against that bastard’s jaw. The pain was a reminder of how far I’d already crossed my own lines when it came to her.

Maybe Scarlett was right. Maybe the truth was the only way forward.

But the truth could destroy us both.

43

BLAKE

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as I strode down the ER wing, my white coat snapping behind me like a shield of ice. Another day in these sterile halls, now with the parade of interns trailing after me. The familiar routine should have been comforting. Instead, every step felt like an attempt to outrun what I’d done last night.

Years of carefully maintained control, shattered in one moment of weakness. I’d spent so long fighting it, forcing my gaze away when she’d bite those full lips, steeling myself against the way her clothes hugged her curves, pushing down the heat that would build whenever she was near. But last night, I’d finally let that wall crack.

The memory of her taste lingered on my tongue. The way she’d trembled beneath my mouth, vulnerable and trusting, as I’d drawn her first orgasm with a man from her. Damn if that knowledge, being her first, hadn’t branded itself into my soul. When her trembling subsided and she’d reached for my waistband, everything I’d wanted was right there. I could have buried myself in her, made her scream my name until sunrise. Instead, reality had slammed into focus, and I’d done the hardest thing I’d ever done.

I’d walked away.

Without explaining why.

Maybe Scarlett was right; maybe honesty was the only way to salvage anything with Tessa now. Maybe I should have tried rather than coming into work early today.

But here I was, burying myself in cases with the kind of cold precision that sent interns scattering. Better they fear me than see through the cracks in my armor. Every time one approached with another theory about Tessa’s case, my jaw clenched tighter. They seemed to think this was some kind of partnership, but as I’d explained an incessant amount of times, this was divide and conquer. If they had a question that would speed up their theory, fine, but wanting validation for every half-formed thought?

Wasn’t the damn point.

“Dr. Morrison.” Dr. Katie Chen matched my pace, her Harvard credentials practically radiating off her pressed white coat. Her eagerness grated against my raw nerves today. “About your friend’s case?—”