Page 157 of The Ampersand Effect

Vanders, having finished his canard, was feigning humility— though the smug smirk he failed to suppress whenever he glanced at Grier and Haleigh told another story. The committee had begun to prepare for deliberation when Haleigh’s phone buzzed on the table. She rapidly snatched it up, unlocked it, and within seconds, her expression shifted. Relief softened her features; her shoulders relaxed on a visible exhale. Grier’s pulse quickened at the sight.

Haleigh looked at Grier, a victorious glint in her eye as she winked—then stood and strode to the door, ushering Jenn into the room.

The committee bristled at the interruption, but none so loud as Vanders. One look at Jenn and his entire demeanor changed. His composure crumbled as Haleigh addressed the room.

“I realize this is unorthodox,” she said, “but Jenn has information that may directly impact the committee’s decision—as well as make the hospital aware of a potential legal issue.”

Jenn revealed Vanders had known that Jonah had an active infection prior to surgery, and was, in fact, febrile at the time of surgery. She explained that, aware that a documented fever would automatically defer the surgery, Vanders had threatened her and two scrub nurses with termination if they intervened or charted the vital signs.

Jenn revealed Vanders’s commission of medical fraud, for which the hospital had a zero-tolerance policy. It was currently his word against theirs, but it was enough to prompt the committee to place him on administrative leave pending a full investigation into Jenn’s claims.

“If that’s what it will take to get you to listen, then yes,” Maren’s firm voice brought her back to the present. But Grier sensed an edge of uncertainty in it. Like she had already accepted that her efforts were futile.

“Listen to what?”

A familiar, all-too-welcome voice lilted softly through the doorway where Tobin appeared, a gentle smile on her lips and a refreshing lightness in her eyes. She paused, leaning casually against the doorframe to wait for Maren’s reply. Grier noticed Maren’s posture shift—the worry evaporating at the sight of Tobin. She couldn’t even be mad about Maren’s reaction—she felt her own body respond similarly.

She’d kept Tobin at arm’s length all week. After confessing she was in love with her, she had made the choice—maybe the mistake— not to let Tobin say it back. At the time, it felt right. She hadn’t expected Jonah’s world to unravel so quickly afterward.

Now was the time she needed Tobin most. She hadn’t realized just how much—until she was standing in her doorway. That comforting smile. That air of authority. And suddenly, Maren could yield her powers of persuasion—which were failinggloriously—to the only person likely to get her out of the hospital right now.

Grier watched as Tobin and Maren exchanged glances. If she’d been more alert, she might have caught the subtle “thank you” Maren mouthed before Tobin pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her. Grier felt Tobin’s confident hands reach for hers, gently pulling her to her feet—and into her arms.

With Tobin’s firm arms wrapped around her and holding her against her chest, Grier felt something unlock inside her. Her legs went weak, finally allowing her body to collapse into the safe, certain arms of the woman she loved.

Tobin held her securely, swaying slightly, rocking her with an air of maternal patience. The soft snick of the door behind them told Grier that Maren had slipped out, leaving them the quiet intimacy they needed.

She felt Tobin’s hand gently brushing through her hair, the steady rhythm of Tobin’s heart beating in her chest. The sound was reassuring, keeping her present, reminding her that she had this woman—this life—and it was important and necessary and right to be vulnerable in it.

So, Grier let herself break. She let herself shed the tears she’d been withholding for days. She cried for Jonah. For Molly. She cried for herself—and for all of Vanders’s other victims, patients and professionals alike.

She cried for the unfairness. She cried for the anger. She cried for the acceptance.

And she cried, mostly, for the love.

She hadn’t understood how a heart could feel so full and so broken all at once—but she understood that’s what she was feeling in this moment.

Grier didn’t know how long she cried. That wasn’t the important part. What she knew was that Tobin held her through all of it. She knew that Tobin rubbed her back, stroked her hair,steadied her breath, subliminally encouraging Grier to match pace. She knew Tobin swayed… and soothed… and stayed.

When Grier sighed—expelling the sadness and acceptance from her body with a determined finality—she felt that Tobin loved her. When Tobin leaned back just enough to look at her, brushing tears from her cheeks with the backs of her fingers and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she felt that Tobin loved her. When Tobin’s green eyes held her gaze—those ever-present roils alarmingly calm—Grier felt that Tobin loved her.

So when Tobin’s palm came to rest gently over her sternum, covering the pendant that anchored her, and when Grier saw the twitch tugging at the corner of Tobin’s lip—fighting an anxious smile—she sighed, yielding to the moment and the emotion and the certainty of what she could feel was happening between them.

She watched as Tobin caved to the determined twitch of her lips, letting them tentatively curl into a hesitant, hopeful smile.

And then the breath that had left her rushed back in, inhaling Tobin’s words as they left her lungs and filled her own:

“I love you, Grier.”

And Grierheardthat Tobin loved her. And then sheknew.

She looked into Tobin’s still eyes, their calmness now explained, and she watched as a pair of silent tears streaked down Tobin’s cheeks. Tobin inhaled sharply, the weight of her confession lifting, weakening them both. For a moment, Grier struggled to determine who was holding whom.

Tobin’s face shifted, contorting with the deprecating look of regret, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Grier’s throat tightened. A sob jostled their bodies, and she honestly couldn’t tell whose it was. There were so many feelings between them, their bodies so close and their hearts so open—it didn’t matter. It was a shared response no matter how it was formed.

She rose onto her toes and brushed her lips against Tobin’s. She tasted the salt of her tears. She felt the weeklong absence of her culminate, the totality of their shared emotions acting as a balm over her broken heart. Already, she could feel them—their separate, broken pieces entwining together into a single mended entity.