Practicing Partners (Maiden’s Bay #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AUbrIE TRIED TO remember how the apartment looked this morning when she had left it. Funny how the morning felt like it was days ago. First the hike, then Doc Bernie calling them in. Then, the festival.

It was sometime between the hike and festival that she realized what her heart wanted. It wasn’t the polite and handsome Garrett. She was sure he’d treat her right and was a genuinely good man. But seeing him on the dance floor confirmed her feelings. She had to tell him they weren’t right together.

Because she was falling for someone else.

Aubrie led Bran up the stairs to the second story apartment. Luckily, it remained tidy, minus a bowl or two in the kitchen, which she promptly put in the sink.

“Make yourself comfortable. After all, you know where everything is.” Her hands shook as she reached for a wine glass in an upper cabinet. Maybe this was a bad idea, having him over. “Would you like a glass of red? I’ll open a new bottle.”

“Sure.” Bran stood, hands in his pockets, looking out the window.

She got another glass, uncorked the cabernet sauvignon, and poured it into one glass. After taking two gulps for herself, damn nerves getting the best of her, she poured some in his glass and brought it over to him.

“It is a good spot to watch the fireworks.” He turned, accepting the glass. “Thank you.”

“You said Campy’s gets busy. I don’t know, with today’s events, the crowds at the festival… I could use a bit of space.”

“No, I get it.” Bran held his glass in the air. “What are we ‘cheersing’ to?”

“Hmm. I always feel like whatever I come up with is cheesy.”

“It is an odd custom, isn’t it?” He stared out the window a second, then back to Aubrie. “Well, since we’re here for the fireworks, why not to fireworks?”

She lifted her glass. “To fireworks.”

They clinked glasses. She took down another gulp, the alcohol warming and relaxing. The feeling of Bran holding her hand on the dance floor, touching her back, her face, burned into her skin’s memory. It happened naturally, a progression throughout the evening that left her wanting more. Now, standing alone in the apartment, there was an awkwardness. A pressure to fill the silent air with conversation, to ease back to where they had left things off.

“You know, the stairwell goes all the way up to the roof.” Bran stared into his glass before his gaze moved upward to her eyes. “If I’m remembering right, there are some extra blankets in the chest at the foot of the bed.”

Getting out of the growing stuffiness and silence of the apartment seemed like a perfect idea. Aubrie set her glass down and rummaged through the chest, finding two heavy, fluffy folded blankets. She checked the bedroom door, Bran respectfully waiting in the living area. She hurried to the head of the bed, straightening the sheets.

“Find any?” Bran shouted.

Aubrie stopped her fussing, grabbed the blankets, and returned to the living room. “Two enough?”

“That should do.” He took the blankets out of her arms, still holding his glass of wine. She followed him out of the apartment, snatching her glass and the open wine bottle, and into the stairwell. She hadn’t been up to the roof during her stay. It wasn’t something she would normally explore. The stairs alerted her to the growing soreness of her muscles from the morning’s hike.

Bran held the door open for her, and she walked out onto the roof. The ascent was worth the aches.

The roof put her high enough over the shops across the street that she could almost see the breaking waves on the coastline behind them. The crescent moon’s reflection rippled on the water’s surface, while a light but crisp breeze blew in from the sea.

“Here.” Bran arranged one of the blankets on the roof, comfortably enough from the western edge of the building. He held a hand out to hold her wine glass as she sat down.

The blast in the sky jolted her muscles to tighten.

“It’s just the fireworks starting.”

“I wasn’t ready for that.” She giggled, crossing her legs and sipping her wine.

Bran took the second blanket and covered her shoulders. She scooted closer to him for it to stretch across his at the same time. Her bent knee rested atop his thigh.

The fireworks boomed more frequently, giant sparkles of crimsons and gold and royal blues. In their radiance, clusters of people watched from the road and dotted the rooftops. The biggest fanfare came from the right up Pearl Avenue, which she assumed to be from Campy’s.

Bran drew nearer, the warmth of his body overpowering the magic of the wine. He whispered in her ear. “Do you hear that?”

She sat still, looking out to the sky, straining to pick up whatever he did. She thought she made out the faint sound of music, but the fireworks washed away anything before she could cling to it.

“I don’t think—” She turned to him. He wasn’t looking out at the light show, or leaning to hear anything. He stared right at Aubrie, a hunger in his eyes, lips slightly parted.

He moved slowly, a smoothness to his actions, as she had pictured him to be in the most serious of emergencies. Cool and calm. Steady and determined.

He took the glass out of her hand and set it down. He touched her hand, the initial sensation reflexively pulling it back, but she fought it, embraced it. She wanted the touch.

He pulled her hand to his chest, his heart racing beneath his jacket, beneath the flannel. “I thought maybe you could hear how crazy you make me.”

“Bran.”

“I don’t deserve to be here, in this moment, with you, so I’m going to cherish every second, every millisecond, I get.”

“How could you say that?” She touched his cheek, other hand frozen on his chest. There were many reasons not to move forward. How long it had been for her, how she wasn’t completely healed from the trauma of a year ago, how he was the reason her future in Maiden’s Bay wasn’t set. That she didn’t know him for long enough.

But she had seen enough of him. How she had been wrong about him. How he was a good person.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. She held onto his cheek and pressed forward, meeting his cabernet-laced lips, the sweet and bitter an intoxicating mixture. He let out a soft moan, hand traveling up her neck, cupping her hair. She felt his chest, then around his shoulder, muscles taut and warm.

“Should we go back downstairs?” She let it out in short breaths between kisses.

He nodded, not letting go of her lips with his.

She made the move to stand, both of them a balancing act, refusing to let go of each other.

Bran kicked over one of the wine glasses. “Oh, shit.”

Aubrie pulled on his collar, giving him more kisses. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

They managed to work their way through the door, back to the stairwell. Aubrie pulled away, holding onto his hand and racing down the stairs. She turned to the apartment door, and Bran turned her around. His body pressed up against hers, her back against the door. He kissed her neck, collapsing all resolve in her legs, melting away any and all doubts.

“Let me get the door,” she giggled. She finagled the handle and managed to open it, the two of them nearly falling into the apartment.

She rolled Bran’s jacket off his shoulders, and he shuffled with taking it off, hands stuck in the sleeves. Finally, he flung it, the jacket hitting the floor. Aubrie took off her sweater, walking backward to the bedroom.

Their bodies met again, his sweet lips an addictive candy, soft tongue sending shivers down her neck, her spine, past the heat rising in her core, down to her toes.

She fell back onto the bed, Bran atop her. He kissed her neck again before pulling back.

Aubrie opened her eyes, meeting his stare.

He looked at her like she was the only thing he had ever desired in the world. “Aubrie, I don’t want to rush this.”

Aubrie sat up halfway, on her elbows. “You want to slow down?”

“God, no. But you deserve to be loved. The right way. I don’t want you to think this is something I do.” His breathing quickened, and he lowered his gaze. “I mean, I know my past actions would say otherwise. But I want you to know you’re….” He clung to find the words.

“Hey.” She touched his cheek, Bran cherishing it with closed eyes. “It’s okay.”

He opened his eyes, taking her hand in his. “I don’t want to mess this up. Because I care about you. More than I can say.”

“Bran, I know.” She wanted to tell him all the ways she knew—how she’d catch the way he looked at her, how he protected her from Garrett that day in the office, or worried about her when she managed a panic attack. It was in his gaze, his voice, his touch. In all the things she wanted more of.

She grabbed his shirt, a shirt she fully intended to have on her floor in the morning, and pulled him to within an inch of her face.

“You don’t have to tell me. Show me.”

———————

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 23

AUbrIE WOKE TO the smell and sounds of coffee brewing. The morning sun shone through her window, indicating she had slept at least past seven. There was no knowing what time they had fallen asleep last night. The fireworks had long died down before their hunger for each other had.

Bran walked through the bedroom door in blue checkered boxers and no shirt. She couldn’t imagine getting tired of seeing his muscular body. He wasn’t thick like a bodybuilder, but lean and fit like a runner. The fact that she didn’t know how he stayed in shape—did he hike more than she thought?—bothered her for only a second. She knew the parts of him that mattered.

“I’m not much of a breakfast maker.” He handed her a mug.

“Thanks.” Her voice sounded sleepy, even to her.

“Now breakfast buying, I’m all over that. Maybe we could go grab something?”

“Sure. Give me a few to wake up first?”

He nodded and slid into bed next to her. After a few sips, she set the mug down and found the nook where his chest met his shoulder to rest her head. Perfection.

She had wanted to open up yesterday, to tell him about her past. She knew he wanted to know, wanted to get closer to her. Understand her. And after last night, it seemed wrong to leave it for later.

“Bran? About the other day.”

“What about the other day?” He set his mug aside and placed his newly-free arm over her in an embrace.

“With Ben and Annabel. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn’t know how.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me until you’re ready.”

She took comfort in it but also wanted to let it out at once. “I had many patients come through my department in Dallas. The good thing, if there is such a thing, about pediatric cancer is that most patients have good outcomes, especially caught early. Of course, not every patient does.”

“That must be hard.” He caressed her arm.

“My last patient, before I moved here… he wasn’t technically my patient, but I pushed for a procedure.” She left the comfort of his hold, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “He was my sister’s son. My nephew Reid.” The tears were unstoppable, clouding her vision. “His prognosis wasn’t great, but he could’ve had a few years… if I hadn’t pushed my sister into the experimental treatment.” All composure was lost, and she cried into her hand, afraid to show him, to show the world, her grief.

“Come here.” Bran held her tight, letting her release a year’s worth of pent up frustration, regret, guilt.

“I was there, outside his room, when he passed. Just this limp, lifeless boy, hooked up to tubes and machines. By then, we knew it was coming, but my sister…. She was at his bedside. I had never heard such a guttural cry in my life. I couldn’t bring myself to go in.”

“Annabel being carried in listless… that brought it all back?”

Aubrie nodded.

“I’m so sorry, Aubrie. I can’t say I understand exactly what you went through. But as a doctor… you hear other people tell you it wasn’t your fault, that you were doing what you thought best. I at least understand how none of that is comforting. Even if they are right.”

She sighed, the tears managing to die down. “You’re right. Had it been anyone else, anyone, I would say those same things to them. So, why can’t my mind wrap around that logic when it’s me? My sister tried to tell me as much, several times after. But I didn’t want to hear it.”

He squeezed her again, and they sat in silence for a moment. A chuckle ended the solitude.

“What?” She looked up, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

He chuckled again. “I was just thinking what a sorry lot of doctors we are. One of us can’t take care of the elderly, the other kids.”

Through the relief and pain, he could still make her laugh. “Maybe we can specialize in eighteen to sixty-year-olds.”

He laughed harder. “Basically, we can handle the healthiest cohort of patients.”

She broke into laughter. It felt good to have the truth out and be able to laugh in the same five minutes. Maybe meeting Bran was what she had needed. A new relationship. A doctor who knew where she was coming from, how she thought.

Bran’s phone buzzed, and he looked at the caller ID.

“No, don’t get it.” She nuzzled her head to his chest.

“It’s Edith.”

Aubrie raised her head as Bran answered. His relaxed joyfulness quickly turned. He shot up in the bed.

“What do you mean? Did you call 911? We’re coming.” He hung up the phone and ran out of the bedroom.

She followed after him. “What is it?” The living room flashed with lights and shadows coming from below. She rushed to the windows and looked outside.

“It’s Doc.” Bran stared down at the ambulance, as if in disbelief. “He’s unconscious.”