Page 7 of Nica (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #17)

G abe’s shoulders ached as he climbed the stairs to his third-floor apartment.

The surgical mask lines were still creased into his face, and the scent of antiseptic clung to him despite the shower he’d taken at the hospital.

Fourteen grueling hours on his feet. He’d spent the morning at the clinic, seeing non-critical patients, and then had been called to their small hospital for an emergency.

Three back-to-back surgeries, the last one an emergency appendectomy on Andy Jacobson’s teenage son.

Shiloh Springs Community Hospital wasn’t equipped for the complex trauma cases he’d handled in California, but days like today reminded him that small-town medicine came with its own brand of exhaustion.

All he wanted was to see Nica’s face. To hold her.

Maybe she’d made that chicken and dumplings her momma had taught her, or maybe they’d just order pizza and collapse on the couch together.

The secret of their marriage weighed on him some days—signing separate names on forms, maintaining separate addresses in reality as well as on paper—but there was something thrilling about it too.

Their private world, just the two of them.

No one else’s opinions or expectations. The only thing niggling at his conscience was lying to Douglas and Ms. Patti.

He hated lying to people he respected as much as he did the Boudreaus.

He fumbled with his keys, wincing at the pull across his trapezius. The door swung open before he could get the key into the lock.

“Hey, I was just about to—” The words died in his throat.

Nica stood in the doorway she’d just flung open, still in the sage green blouse and jeans he’d seen her wearing that morning when she’d left to have breakfast with Jill, her long blonde hair coming loose from its usual neat bun.

Papers were scattered across his coffee table.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her peaches-and-cream complexion pale.

She didn’t move toward him for their usual hello kiss.

“Nica?” Alarm jolted through his fatigue. “What’s wrong?”

She held up a manila envelope he hadn’t noticed her holding. “Someone mailed this to me at the ranch. It was delivered to the Big House today.” Her voice was too steady, the kind of calm that came just before a storm. “No name. No return address.”

Gabe set his bag down slowly, then closed the door behind him. Fear crawled up his spine. “What is it?”

“Documentation of a malpractice case in California.” She picked up one of the papers from the coffee table and held it out to him. “Melissa Carpenter. Mother of two. She died on your operating table four years ago.”

The name hit him like a physical blow. His stomach lurched and the hunger pangs from moments ago disappeared.

His ears filled with a high, thin whine.

For a moment, he was back in that OR, alarms blaring, blood pressure plummeting, his movements growing uncoordinated as the ketamine took effect, the mounting horror as he realized something was terribly wrong with both his patient and himself.

“Sit down, Gabe.” Nica’s voice came from far away, and he felt her hand start guiding him toward the sofa. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

He sank onto the edge of the couch, his knees suddenly unreliable. His mouth was dry. “Where did these come from?”

“I told you, I don’t know.” Nica remained standing, arms crossed over her chest. “But that’s not the point, is it? The point is that I had to find out about this from a stranger instead of from my husband.”

My husband.

The words normally filled him with a quiet joy, but now they carried an accusation. He’d kept this from her, by omission if not by outright lie.

“I was cleared,” he managed to say. “The medical board—”

“I know. That’s in here too.” She gestured to the papers.

“Along with allegations that someone tampered with your toxicology samples, that another doctor had a grudge against you, that there was some kind of cover-up.” Her voice broke slightly.

“Two years of knowing each other, three months of marriage, and you never thought to mention that you were accused of killing a patient while under the influence of drugs?”

Gabe closed his eyes briefly. The headache that had been threatening all day bloomed behind his eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” Nica’s voice rose slightly. “Because I’m trying very hard to understand why my husband—a man I trusted enough to marry without telling my family—would keep something this significant from me.”

“I was trying to protect you.” Even to his own ears, the words sounded weak.

“From what? The truth?”

“From them.” Gabe stood, feeling steadier now the shock had worn off, and paced to the window overlooking the small park across the street.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the grass.

“Whoever sent these to you. This is exactly what I was afraid of, that my past would eventually follow me here, that it would touch you.”

“Who’s ‘them,’ Gabe?” Nica moved closer but still kept a distance between them. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He turned to look at her, at the woman who had brought light back into his life when he’d thought it was gone forever.

The woman who understood him in a way he’d never thought possible.

Despite all the obstacles in their path, the differences in their ages, the fact he was her father’s physician, he’d known the day would come when he’d have to answer for the decision not to tell her about the darkness that haunted him.

Would the Boudreaus be able to accept him if they knew the full story—not just the accusations, but the truth behind them?

He’d skimmed over the details that morning when he’d talked to Douglas, but the real truth—the truth nobody knew, was ugly and shameful, and he didn’t want it to come out.

Couldn’t bear the thought he might lose the only good thing left in his life.

“I’m still getting the calls,” he said finally.

“The ones I told you about. I downplayed them, because I didn’t want you to worry.

I’ve been getting them at the hospital. At the clinic.

Someone who doesn’t identify themselves.

It’s a doctored voice, one of those mechanical-sounding machines, so it’s distorted.

Someone who says they know what I did. Claims I deliberately killed Melissa.

It’s not true, but…” His voice trailed off, unable to finish.

Nica’s eyes widened. “And you didn’t think to tell me this either?”

“I thought I could handle it. I thought it would stop, that they’d simply go away.

” He ran a hand through his hair. “Stupid, right? The calls started getting more frequent a couple of weeks ago. Remember, I told you I’d gotten a couple of strange calls, that I thought it was a disgruntled patient from back in my Stanford days? ”

“You did mention a couple of calls but those were several weeks ago. This sounds like more than a couple of random calls, Gabe.” She breathed out a deep sigh, sitting forward on the edge of her seat.

“So, while I’ve been grading papers and substitute teaching eighth-grade science and sneaking around to see my own husband, you’ve been receiving threatening phone calls and just… what? Hoping for the best?”

“I wouldn’t call them threatening, exactly.

Just…accusatory.” He took a step toward her but stopped when she tensed.

“Nica, please. Let me explain what happened in California. It’s nothing like these papers make it appear.

And I did tell you some of this, I just—didn’t tell you everything, because I—I thought it was all behind me.

I didn’t want the things that happened in my past to color my future with you. ”

She sank onto the couch, suddenly looking as exhausted as he felt. “I’m listening.”

Gabe sat across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. How could he explain the darkest day of his professional life? The day that had sent him fleeing across the country to this small town where no one knew his name?

“Dr. Marcus Richardson was my mentor in residency,” he began slowly.

“Brilliant surgeon. Cold as ice in the OR. Admired by the administrative and teaching staff. I worshipped him, wanted to be just like him. Eventually I was approached to join the same practice he worked for, and became a full partner, that’s when things started to change.

I noticed discrepancies in his patient records.

Unnecessary procedures being performed. Shortcuts that endangered patients. ”

Nica watched him, her face unreadable. “And Melissa Carpenter?”