KIRSTEN CAME TO with a start. Blinking, she tried to pull her brain back from wherever it had been. Music played in the background, and she wasn’t sure exactly where she...
Her eyes landed on the sofa and found Snow there, eyes open, watching her.
“Wow, I’m sorry. I was supposed to be keeping you company, not snoring away in your chair.” Her eyes flashed to him. “I wasn’t snoring...was I?”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Do you want the truth, or...”
The thought that her snoring might have kept him awake was mortifying. “I am so sorry. I’ll leave so you can—”
“I’m kidding. You didn’t snore. But you did make these cute little snuffling sounds.”
Her face turned hot. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
“No, but I don’t always try to. Sometimes just stretching out in here is enough to get me back where I need to be.”
A thought hit her. “Do you normally bring someone back here?” Maybe he didn’t like being alone, either. Kind of like she felt about eating at restaurants alone.
“No. It’s normally too distracting.”
“So you don’t find me distracting.” She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted. Especially since seeing him lying flat out on that sofa was beginning to distract her. A lot. It brought back some memories of their night together. It was funny how that was now such a blur. Oh, the remembered sensations were there. In fact, they were doing a number on her now, but the actual events were just bits and pieces of them moving in time with each other, of straining toward the other, of...
And she needed to stop thinking about that.
“I think you know that’s not true.” As if he’d read her thoughts and needed to change the subject, he sat up. “So what did you think of surgery? I didn’t get a chance to ask you much after the fact, since I needed to go talk to her relatives.”
“Like I said, it was amazing. I knew the mechanics of it, but to see the damaged heart actually being lifted out of someone’s body is a little disconcerting.”
“It is. I think about that every time I do one of these. It’s like I’m putting something to death.”
“Sometimes in order to save something, you have to sacrifice something else. Something that is causing harm and might even result in death.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it like that. But it makes sense in a lot of areas and not just medicine.”
Was he thinking of his dad? How he’d had to sacrifice him, in order to stop him from harming his mom?
“It’s the right thing to do in those cases.”
He met her eyes. “That doesn’t always make it any easier.”
“I imagine it doesn’t. But if you choose to do nothing, then aren’t you guilty of sitting back and allowing it to happen?”
His jaw tightened. “Yes, I guess you are. And sometimes you wished you’d intervened a lot sooner, and wonder if maybe you could have prevented—”
“Stop.” She got up and went over to the sofa to sit next to him, putting her hand on his. There was no doubt what they were talking about now. “You were a kid. Making those kinds of decisions shouldn’t have been left up to you. The fact that you were willing to do it at all... Well, you probably saved your mom’s life. Who knows what would have happened the next time?”
She was sure he’d had this same kind of argument with himself time and time again.
“Those locks, Snow. I’m pretty sure you have PTSD from what your dad did, from what your mom went through.”
This time he didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure if he disagreed with her, or if he simply didn’t want to talk about it. She couldn’t blame him.
She put her hand on his cheek, turning his head until he was looking at her. “Please don’t take that the wrong way. I can’t imagine having to do what you did. I think you were impossibly brave. And you didn’t back down, even though it meant your dad was going to prison. You asked someone to remove what was killing your family and to take it where it couldn’t do any more harm. As a transplant surgeon, you of all people should get that analogy. You have to remove the cause in order to fix the problem. Maybe you went into transplant surgery for that very reason, without realizing it. Just like I went into pulmonology because of my mom.”
He reached up and stroked her hair, a muscle working in his cheek. “You’re pretty incredible, you know that?”
“I’m really not.”
“I beg to differ.” He leaned down and placed a light kiss on her mouth that made her want to curl her hands into his shirt and pull him closer. “And I think you’re right. And you know what, it helps looking at it like that.”
She smiled. “I’m glad. Because I think you’re pretty incredible yourself.”
“Do you?”
She nodded.
This time when he kissed her, it wasn’t just some quick peck on the lips. It was a slow, drawn-out kiss that wound its way through her. Unhurried. Unwavering. Bringing with it a hum of emotion that she hadn’t felt in quite a while.
She inched closer to him and cupped his face, wishing she could heal the hurt that he’d been put through all those years ago. But, of course, she couldn’t. So she settled for showing him in the only way she knew how that she admired his bravery, his willingness to stay in a situation that wasn’t of his making in order to try to protect his mom.
And she did admire him. In so many ways. She wasn’t sure when that had come about or why, but she cared about him.
There wasn’t much time to dwell on that realization, though, because the kiss was deepening. His hands were beginning to wander as need erupted between them all over again.
And this time, Kirsten didn’t want to take the time to go back to one of their apartments—she wanted him right here in this room, in the midst of the intimacy that was floating through the air. It seemed like a just conclusion to their conversation.
She found his shirt buttons with her fingers and undid them one at a time, pushing the garment away so she could touch his skin. God, she loved the feel of him.
Snow wrapped his arms around her and laid her back on the sofa, pressing her into the soft leather cushions. He surrounded her, his solid weight warm and welcome as he continued to kiss her. He lifted up enough to push up her skirt, and with her help, they soon had it bunched around her waist.
“I want you so much.”
The heated words rumbled against her throat and matched everything she felt inside. She didn’t care what the consequences were. Didn’t care where they found themselves tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted him inside of her. In more ways than one.
She felt more than saw him taking out his wallet and retrieving a condom, heard the snick of his zipper being lowered.
Oh, God, this was going to happen.
And she wanted it. Wanted it more than she’d wanted anything in her life. She was ready when he pushed aside her underwear and found her, sliding home in a rush.
She gasped, the incredible fullness feeling familiar and new all at the same time. She wrapped her legs around his waist, the fabric of his pants adding an element of sexiness as it rubbed against her inner thighs with each movement of his hips. He intoxicated her. Thrilled her. Made her want to stay with him forever.
When one hand slid under her shirt and found her breast, his thumb brushing over the peak, she remembered the way he’d brushed it over his steering wheel. How she’d longed to feel it on her skin. That trip seemed like forever ago.
She closed her eyes and let the sensations wash over her and through her, absorbing it into her brain. And her heart.
His movements weren’t frantic, but there was a contagious intensity to him that pulled her along with him through space and time. She touched his face, tracing the planes of his cheeks, and when he lifted his head to look at her, she brushed her index finger along his lips. He opened and captured it, sucking it deeper, his tongue sliding along it in a way that brought an ecstasy of its own.
“Ah...” She couldn’t remain silent, couldn’t prevent herself from whimpering as nerve endings awoke and were teased and tantalized to the breaking point.
And when his hand edged between their bodies to find her, she pushed closer, head going back as the pressure grew, needing him so much. So very much.
Then like a dam bursting, the raging torrent inside of her broke free, and she gave a loud keening cry as pleasure crashed over her, dragging her along with it. Snow bit down on her finger as he plunged into her and strained for several long seconds. Then his weight settled back down on her all at once, and he allowed her finger to slide free, saying goodbye with a tiny kiss to its tip. His breath against the side of her neck was hot and unsteady.
“Hell.”
She couldn’t really think. Couldn’t articulate enough to answer whatever his “hell” meant. Maybe he’d meant it was incredibly hot. It had been.
Although something made her wonder...
Then he was up and off her with a speed that shocked her, striding over to the door and turning both the locks.
She realized he’d forgotten to lock the door. She laughed, sat up and tried to straighten her skirt. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
He didn’t crack a smile, didn’t do anything except stand there with this grim look on his face. He could have been peering into the face of death, for all she knew. Except he was staring right at her. A shiver went through her.
“Snow?”
“Anyone could have come in here and found us.”
The way he said that...
She yanked her shirt back down over her breasts, even as he disposed of his condom and zipped himself back in. Something was wrong. This wasn’t just about the unlocked door.
“But they didn’t.”
He didn’t respond, but she felt him withdrawing emotionally, like one of those motion pictures of an erupting volcano that, when rewound, shows everything being sucked back into the fissure before closing it up tight. As if nothing had ever happened.
Okay, so he evidently viewed this as one more mistake. Like the night they’d spent together. Only this time it wasn’t the locks that bothered her, it was his behavior.
She swallowed. He reminded her of Dave, who had walked away from their relationship as it was dying on the ground. Or of that doctor who had given her mom the bad news about her condition being terminal. A total emotional detachment. That man had felt nothing for her mom, nothing for her family’s pain. Or if he did, not a glimmer of it showed.
That’s why Snow looked at her like she was death incarnate. Because he was about to do what he did with all of his transplant patients. Like he’d done with his father. He was going to remove her from his life, just like he did a diseased heart or a set of lungs.
You were never in his life in the first place, Kirsten.
Emotions had been high, and the sex had just happened. And Snow regretted it. It was there in his face, in the hands that were balled into fists.
Pain speared through her, although she wasn’t sure why. They meant nothing to each other.
Except that wasn’t true. She’d been scrabbling around trying to grab on to an emotion right before they fell onto the couch together. And now, when she looked into her heart, she realized she’d succeeded in capturing it...was still holding on tight to it.
She loved him.
Horrified, she tried to release the emotion back into the universe, but it had already grown long tendrils that had wrapped themselves in and through her heart, refusing to release it.
Snow still hadn’t said anything and panic was beginning to well up inside of her. He’d not only locked everyone out of the room, but he’d also locked them in. Together.
Well, she was going to save him the trouble of making up reasons why they couldn’t see each other anymore or how this was a big mistake—which for him, it obviously was. And she wasn’t going to text him or ask him why, like she’d done with Dave.
Walking over to him, she looked into his face. His eyes were back to the way they’d been when they’d first met.
Cool, unreachable.
Inside, that invasive plant that had taken over her heart was telling her to beg him to talk to her, to give them a chance. But why? They’d had sex on two occasions. Two. That was nothing in most people’s books. And it certainly didn’t add up to a relationship. Besides, she’d kind of been through this once before. The excuses. The emotional pulling back. And if you had to beg someone to let you into their life...
Well, it just wasn’t worth it. So here she went...
“Hey, we may not agree on much, but I think we can both agree that this was a mistake, and I’m sorry. I swore to myself that it would never happen again after that first night.” That was all true. But here came the part where she’d have to fudge things a little bit. “But here’s where I give you an easy out. You were right about something. I am leaving NYC Memorial. It may not be tomorrow or next week, but it’s going to be soon. Maybe even within a month or two. I’ll be moving back to Lebanon to be with my dad...my family. So as soon as I wrap up my current caseload, I’ll be out of your hair. No one will be the wiser.”
The look of relief that crossed his face wasn’t her imagination, and it sent another stab of pain through her.
“So you’re leaving. I thought you said you weren’t.”
“Not exactly. What I said was ‘who knows where I’ll be in a year’s time.’ I wanted on at NYC Memorial to see if there were any cutting-edge lung treatments I could take back with me to Lebanon when I went. I wasn’t sure when I came how long I would be here. But I’m thinking shorter is better at this point.”
“Do not leave because of what we just did.”
It would be hard to respond to that with anything that was less than a lie. Even if he hadn’t turned into something as stiff and lifeless as that statue they’d visited in the harbor, her plans still included moving back to Lebanon. So wasn’t this better in the end? If she’d loved him and he reciprocated, that choice would be so much harder. But thankfully he’d made it easy, had confirmed that what she was doing was the right thing. “Like I said, my plans were always to go back. I miss my father, and the rest of my family.”
He probably wouldn’t challenge that, because he wouldn’t be able to relate to a person actually having a father worth missing.
She realized the jazz that had been softly playing in the background was still going. Except the music didn’t seem soothing anymore. It seemed mournful, and unbearably sad. But it was definitely fitting for saying this particular goodbye. And the hole he was going to leave was so much bigger than what Dave had left her with. She only hoped it would heal, given enough time.
He was blocking her exit, and if he didn’t move, she was going to do something she regretted. Like cry in front of him.
“If you’ll just unlock the door, I’ll let you get back to your day.” She forced a smile. “I’m glad your surgery went well.”
He didn’t say anything, just went over to the door and turned both of the locks, making a way for her to escape.
And that’s what she did. With as much dignity and grace as she could muster. And then she was out of his office and would soon be out of his life.
As soon as she was gone, Snow went over to his desk and sat down behind it, turning off the music so he could have peace and quiet. It didn’t work, because there was still a cacophony of noise going on inside of him that refused to be silenced. Kirsten’s name was on a loop that repeated again and again and again.
What the hell had he done? He should have said something to her, should have been the one to apologize. Instead, he’d let her walk out of that door without a single damn word. Without a single argument.
She may have been planning to leave all along, like she’d said, but he could almost guarantee that the timing had changed because of what had happened in this room.
He’d overreacted about the locks. He knew he had. But when he realized he hadn’t latched the door before they had sex, he had been horrified, furious with himself. Saying that anyone could have walked in had been true, but it was more than that. More than he’d been willing to say to her. And thank God he hadn’t been able to put it into words, because she was leaving, anyway. It looked like he wasn’t going to have to break his vow after all. And that was a good thing. Because he’d just seen firsthand what Theresa had complained about time and time again. When push came to shove—when it really, really counted—the emotions wouldn’t come out. They were still bottled up inside of him. Because the specter of his father, of his past, was still holding him hostage in ways that he didn’t understand.
Was it just the fear of becoming like him? He wasn’t so sure anymore. But he’d held himself in check for so long, that he didn’t know what freedom to express himself actually looked like.
It was safer this way, but that didn’t mean it was any less painful. In fact, it hurt like hell. It was just that no one but him was able to see it.
So somehow he was going to have to figure out how to work with her—or at least in the same hospital with her—until she was ready to hand in her notice and leave.
That would not be an easy task. But the possibility of her staying here forever would be even more unbearable. Because he was pretty sure—given what had happened so far—they would fall into bed again, if she stayed. It wasn’t the cycle he’d originally feared being unable to break. But it might end up being almost as damaging to both of them.
So all he could do was avoid her as much as possible and pray that some cosmic being set the clocks on fast-forward. Once she was gone, things would go back to normal.
At least he hoped that was true.
Kirsten didn’t invite Snow to the meeting she had with Gretchen’s parents. Instead, she went to it alone, giving Sarah and Bob the results of the MRI and outlining some treatment options that she thought could slow the progression of their daughter’s heart failure. But she also honestly told them that Gretchen’s best chance for long-term survival, once the meds stopped working, was going to be a heart-lung transplant.
“Will she be able to do PE before the transplant?”
“Before the MRI, I might have said yes, but at this point, we don’t want to put any further strain on her heart.”
“So it’s that bad,” her father said. “What kind of timeline are we looking at?”
“I spoke with Dr. Tangredi earlier, and he thinks we’ve probably got a year and then she’ll need a transplant.”
Sarah’s eyes closed for a second before reopening. “Gretchen is a strong girl. We’ll talk to her, but I’m sure she’ll want the transplant when the time comes. How do we go about that?”
“Snow... Dr. Tangredi wasn’t able to be here today.” She didn’t tell them it was because she couldn’t be in the same room with him right now. Instead, she went on, “I’ll contact him and set up an appointment. He can give you a rundown on what happens once a transplant is a necessity. I think you already know, he’s an excellent surgeon. One of the best out there. Gretchen will be in excellent hands.”
“She’s going to want you to be there with her through the process.”
Kirsten smiled, even though her heart was breaking. “Of course. I’ll be with her for as long as I’m at the hospital.”
Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be very long. Not if she could help it.
She’d gotten a hold of her dad and told him the situation, leaving out the part about Snow and what had happened between them. But her father had always been able to read her like a book, and since they’d done a videoconferencing call, he’d been able to take one look at her face and see that something was wrong. He asked her not to rush into any decisions, that she’d only been at the hospital for a short time.
She’d replied that whether it was Lebanon or another hospital, she couldn’t stay at NYC Memorial any longer. He didn’t ask why, and Kirsten didn’t volunteer any information, but she was pretty sure her dad knew exactly why she needed out of here. It made her feel like such a fool. First Dave and now Snow. Hadn’t she once told herself that he couldn’t break her heart, because her emotions weren’t involved when they’d had sex. What a lie that had been. Because her heart was broken, and there was nothing anyone could do about it at this point.
Her dad told her whenever she returned home, she would be welcomed. He already had a house with three bedrooms, had just hoped he might need the two extras for a son-in-law and grandchildren.
At this point, she didn’t see that happening, and she ached for the sadness that would bring her father.
Bob stood, dragging her thoughts back to the present. “We appreciate all you’ve done for Gretchen. Can you get us an appointment with Dr. Tangredi as soon as possible?”
“Yes, of course I will.” She took a couple of prescription forms off her pad and scribbled the medications they would need. “Get these filled and start on them tomorrow. Let me know if there are any problems. One of them is to help regulate the pressure in her lungs and the other one is to help stabilize her heart. I’ll let you know as soon as I get that appointment time with Dr. Tangredi.”
She shook both of their hands, surprised when Sarah leaned in to hug her instead. Kirsten returned the hug, suddenly needing it with a desperation that surprised her. Then she let go and said her goodbyes. They didn’t know this was probably the last time they would see each other, but she did.
As they walked away, she grieved not knowing what Gretchen’s final outcome would be. But she’d told the truth. Snow was an excellent surgeon and if anyone could make this miracle happen, it was him.
As far as her own miracle was concerned, there was no surgeon in the world who would be able to fix her shattered heart. Even if there were a transplant that would fix the problem, she was pretty sure the new heart would crumble, too. And the one after that, and the one after that.
Until there were no more hearts left to try.
That was when she decided she wasn’t going to wait a week or even a month. She was going to call Snow and ask for an appointment time and then she was going to take a personal leave of absence.
And go home.
Unfortunately, she ran into Nicola just before she reached the inner sanctum of her office.
“Hey, I was just looking for you.”
“You were?”
“Yes, do you have time for a coffee? I could use some adult time. I love that baby of mine, but it’s just come to the point that I...” Her words faded away as she stared into Kirsten’s face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Then and there, she knew she was going to lose it. She opened her office door and dragged her friend inside. Then she promptly burst into tears.
Nicola put her arm around her shoulder and pulled her over to the chairs that were in front of her desk, then waited until she sat down and thrust a tissue into her hands. “Now, spill. What is it? A patient?”
She shook her head, scrubbing the tissue under her eyes, so angry at herself that she couldn’t see straight. How could she let herself get into a situation like this again? Once hadn’t been enough to cure her? Evidently not.
Nicola leaned down and looked at her face. “It’s Snow, isn’t it? I should have known when you came to ask me about him. I’m sorry I didn’t realize...”
“I didn’t realize, either. Not until—” She shut her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going back to Lebanon.”
“What? When?”
“As soon as possible.”
With that, she unraveled the whole story for her friend, telling her about Dave and how it seemed like history was repeating itself. How she’d come to care about a man who had no emotions.
“I’m sure that’s not true. Snow has emotions. They’re just...hidden.”
The huge pause before she said that last word struck Kirsten as funny. She giggled. The giggle turning to a laugh that made its way back to tears. “I love him, Nic. But I just can’t do—” she waved her hand in a circle and then placed it on her heart “—this. Not again. Please don’t try to talk me out of leaving.”
“I won’t, honey. But please promise me you’ll think long and hard about it.”
“I already have. And every thought leads back to one of two places. With Snow breaking my heart. Or with me leaving. And I know that the only viable path—the only path where I can come away with any self-respect—is that last one.” She reached over and hugged her. “Thank you for everything. I’ll never forget how you helped me or gave me your friendship.”
“I won’t forget you, either, Kirsten. Even though I may not agree with your decision. Let me know if you need anything at all, you hear?”
“Thank you. I will.”