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54. Pipe Dreams

Brighton

Monday, June 12 th

8:57 p.m.

Today is a day I will never forget.

But I wish there was a delete button. To delete people. Memories. And feelings. A way to get rid of all the bad that keeps replaying in my mind.

I hang my head, plunging my hands under the running faucet of my kitchen sink before splashing the water over my face. The droplets run down my cheeks as I stare at my reflection in the window above the sink. One day, I'm going to look back on all of this and see it as the silver lining that put an end to a series of awful events. But today is not that day. And tomorrow probably isn't, either.

The distorted haze of my face mirrors the hollow feeling in my chest, and I tongue the inside of my cheek. I still can't wrap my head around why Kline attacked me. I pull out my lip to assess the damage from where my teeth cut into it as tears well up in my bloodshot eyes; I have to fight the urge to cry and my simultaneous need to scream.

How did I let it get this far? Why did I let it happen? I should have known he would never confess what he's done, and he would try to turn it all on me.

I pull my gaze from the window and drop my head, my shoulders shuddering as the last crumbs of adrenaline seep from my body. There should be relief, but all I feel is shame.

How could I not know? After all this time? How could I let Kline hold my case over me and never think of looking into it?

The sound of the knocker reverberates through the house, and I jump, my hand shooting to my chest. Of course, Dax is right on time.

"Coming." I grab the towel next to the sink and wipe under my eyes as I race down the hall. I count to ten, steal myself, and pull open the door.

His eyes flit over my face. "Oh, my god, are you okay?" I'm such an asshole." He directs me to the sofa, pulling me down as he takes a seat. "I should have come earlier."

"I'm fine."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He traces his thumb across my jaw, his eyes land on the fingerprint-shaped bruises on my neck and collarbone, and the muscles in his jaw constrict.

"Not in particular."

"This is shit timing, but I need to ask you something." His voice lowers as he hangs his head, at war with himself over something he can't put into words. "Please don't hate me."

I re-situate myself so I'm facing him on the sofa and give him a reassuring smile.

He finally gathers his courage and asks, "You have the right guy? You're sure it's Dr. Matthews?"

"Yes." A sigh slips from between my lips. But I'm still missing something. Kline said I was wrong. That I messed everything up. But what does he mean?

"I hate admitting this, but he had me fooled. Despite your warnings, I couldn't fathom him being the person you described."

"I get it. I didn't know what he was doing for years." I lean across the sofa and grab my purse, pulling out the ball cap, my calendar, the stethoscope, Hudson's card, a few pens, and my phone. I need to show him everything. No more hiding things. I've seen where that got me, and it's not worth it anymore.

"I'm sorry for doubting you. After I saw him attacking you, I knew, but I had to hear it from your mouth." He watches as I drop my scattered belongings onto the cushion, and he reaches for the hat. "Where'd you get this? I've been looking for it for weeks."

"Lauren said it was on the counter the other day. I thought it was yours. It looked familiar."

"Huh. I must have left it during one of Liam's appointments."

"It's been in my purse for a few days. I thought you'd want it back." I push my stuff out of the way and scoot closer as I offer him my phone, trying to redirect his attention as he pulls the hat onto his head and adjusts it until it's comfortable.

I tap on the photos app and open the pictures I took before I left the hospital. The scattered polaroids. My crushed laptop. The torn list. And the caduceus.

He scrolls through the pictures, his face paling the farther he gets through them.

"I should have told you what I was planning, but I didn't want you trying to stop me. This"—I point to the photo of the gold pin lying under the table—"is what tipped me off. Each victim had one. And there was one here too." I point at the photo of the caduceus on the floor next to the door in the doctors' lounge.

"But you all have the pins. I've seen them. There's no chance it's yours or his, and it got knocked off?"

I shake my head and grab my stethoscope, showing him mine is where it always is.

"You think he left it there on purpose?"

"I told Hudson, but he thinks Kline would be an idiot to be so obvious. I'm not convinced. I don't know how else it could have gotten there."

"There were a lot of people in that room. Anyone could have dropped it."

"It's just too much of a coincidence."

"What's this?" He points at the last photo.

"Kline didn't know I was on to him until I confirmed it by taking what he planted."

"The list." Dax runs a hand over his face.

"It's what set everything in motion. I needed you to distract him and get new evidence that I could show to Luca to get Kline put on leave so I could record his confession while I waited for the cops to arrive," I say in one long breath. "I didn't think it through very well."

"We shouldn't have helped. None of this would have happened."

"I would have figured out another way. Your suggestion to include Liam just took out the extra steps." I chuckle and instantly regret it when a shooting pain surges through my ribs.

"Is anything broken?" He holds out his hands to touch me but never does, the fear that he may hurt me clear in his eyes.

"No. Just bruised. How are you?" I tap his swollen fingers, and he pulls his arm away from me, not letting me sidetrack us from what we're discussing.

"What were you thinking?"

"That if I could get him to see all the evidence I had, he would confess. I didn't expect him to lash out." The thought of him attacking me after I met the detectives flashes into my mind, and I don't know why I thought he'd react any differently this time, especially considering everything I have against him.

"And others were in on it?"

"Luca, Hudson, Lauren, you guys. I couldn't give everyone the same details. I needed each part to play off the next, and it worked out better than I could have imagined."

"By him doing this." He brushes a wisp of hair off my neck, tracing his finger along the red scuff on my cheek.

I do my best to ignore him and stuff all my things back into my purse, stopping when my eyes land on Hudson's card. "He needs a statement."

"Please, let me help you." He takes the card and stuffs it into his back pocket.

"I don't need you to. He's on leave because of the malpractice. He got arrested because of the assault. And he can't hurt anyone else because of us ."

"Was it worth it?" His eyes land on the bruises again, and he lifts a hand but stops without touching me.

I readjust, pulling my scrub top so it conceals some of the marks. I need his attention elsewhere. "Look, I can't change how things played out. And that is the least of my worries. I want to help you."

"I knew this conversation would end up here." He stands and paces in front of the leather sofa, his eyes downcast. He readjusts the strap from the sling on his neck and tries to find the right words. "Did you know?"

"No."

"Is it true?"

I don't answer. From what I saw in Dax's file—yes. From what I feel in my gut—absolutely.

"Is that a yes?"

"I think you should get a second opinion." This is not what he wants to hear, but it's all I've got. There is a less than .00001 percent chance that both mouth swabs and the blood test are incorrect. But that's enough of a chance to hold out hope. And I'm going to give it to him. Whether or not I know it won't matter.

"So, there's a chance we're not brothers," he says, matter-of-fact. His shoulders sag, and he stops pacing. "Did you know?"

"Not until after Liam's appointment." I shake my head and close the distance between us, taking his limp hand in mine.

"What are we supposed to do?" His stare is vacant when our eyes meet as if he's been beating himself up over the outcome of this conversation for hours.

"This doesn't affect Liam's treatment." I take his face in both hands. "He's going to be okay. There are other options—"

"But I can't help him."

I hang my head. "Get the other test . . ."

"Do you think it'll make a difference?"

"No."

"Fuck." He takes his hat from his head and chucks it across the living room.

"I can help you. There has to be an explanation. We can figure it out."

He drops back onto the sofa, shaking his head. I wanted to offer him comfort before, but nothing compares to how badly I want to hold him and tell him everything will be okay, even if I don't know that it's true.

"Why us? After everything else . . ." his voice cracks and he closes his eyes.

I don't know what to say, so I take his hand in mine, and we sit in silence. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes into an hour. He clears his throat, and it's all I can do not to cry for him.

"Are you hungry?"

"Sushi?" I grin, appreciating his need for a distraction.

"I want to see something." His stomach growls, and he leans over the coffee table to grab the remote. He clicks on the TV and flips through the channels until he lands on Fox 5's breaking news broadcast. He pulls me into his chest as he leans back on the cushions, readjusting his sling. "Just watch my arm."

I flinch when his lips meet the skin at my collarbone, and he brushes his thumb across the bruise, anger rolling off of him despite his gentle touch.

He pulls me tighter, and I nuzzle against him, closing my eyes. He's silent, but I can feel the tension evaporating between us.

". . . confirmed that Dr. Kline Matthews has been put on administrative leave after new evidence was brought against him, directly tying him to the malpractice . . ."

I push off his chest, reaching for the remote to turn up the volume. Jenks' douchebag face stares at me from the screen, along with a photo of Kline in the top right corner. It's his photo from the hospital website. He's all clean and pristine. I picture how the image would look different now with the stitches across his brow, swollen eye, and bruises.

How could a man who had it all be so willing to throw it away without a second thought?

Unless he didn't. Unless he's not.

Maybe it was for power, control—or maybe a fight to gain back his lack of control.

". . . along with the proof confirming his attempt to commit insurance fraud. The depositions will start on June twenty-ninth. The unnamed physician tied to the initial claims of the lawsuit is cleared of all charges and is not expected to testify at trial regarding the insurance scheme."

My reaction to Jenks' question about the snitch at the hospital is not one of my finer moments. But I never expected him to have the audacity to show up on my doorstep and make a fool out of me, and I'll never forgive him.

"They don't mention the assault." Dax's expression shifts as he turns to face me.

"Or the murders."

"I'm sure they can't until they can prove it."

"Why's he the one reporting this?"

"He's their top reporter," Dax says, reaching over me to turn down the volume.

"But he's been at everything."

"It could be coincidence."

"Or not."

I yawn, my body drooping without my consent. "I need to sleep. You should go home, get some rest. I'll eat cereal."

"I don't want to leave you." He brushes a hair out of my face.

"I'm exhausted. And I'm not going to be good company. I have a door camera and a security system. Kline's behind bars and hasn't made bail. I'm safe."

"If he's really the murderer," he jokes.

"Not funny."

"Got you to smile. Point."

I smack his injured arm, and he cringes. "I'm sorry. See, bad decision-making on my part."

"I'd be okay with a couple bad decisions if you're willing to make them with me. Let me take your mind off things."

"Can I take a rain check?"

"Only because you're literally falling asleep as I sit here." He leans over me, nipping and kissing my neck. Until his movements slow and become deliberate, he trails his tongue up my neck, and I arch back, allowing him more access as I tangle my fingers in his hair.

"Stay." The words rush from my lips between his kisses.

"Are you sure?" His tongue continues up the side of my collarbone and stops at my ear, where he starts to nibble.

I groan and ball his shirt into my fists, pulling him closer, hoping this will be the only answer he needs.

"Wait," he pulls away from me, and I immediately deflate. "Does this mean you get Liam back?"

"I don't know what the hospital will do with Kline's patients." I huff out my irritation and drop against the cushion, pulling him with me.

He jerks away, his eyes searching mine. "What? Why? He won't go back to you?"

"I'm kidding."

His shoulders slump with relief. "Does that change things, now that—" He gestures between the two of us.

"We're two grown adults. Kline's not watching my every move anymore, and I don't care what anyone at the hospital thinks."

"Good, then there's nothing stopping me from doing this." He licks along my collarbone and nuzzles his nose along my cheek, his breaths cascading over my open lips.

He pauses.

And I wait.

Until my impatience gets the better of me. I take him by the neck, grasp onto the strap of his sling, and pull him into me. We're a clash of crashing teeth and eager tongues. And I don't know how the night turned to this. But it's not gentle, and it's not slow. He groans into my mouth, wrapping his fist in my hair as he pulls my neck back, biting and nipping.

"Are you sure about this? I don't want you getting in trouble." He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine as he tries to catch his breath.

"My moral code has taken a backseat, and I have decidedly chosen yes." I lean into him, taking his mouth with mine as a surge of electricity courses between us.

"So, it was never a professional issue?" he murmurs from between our mashed lips.

"Stop pulling away from me to talk. There is plenty of time to talk later. I've been waiting to do this for—"

My phone buzzes from my front pocket, the moment between us ripped away.

Dax smirks and kisses my forehead. "Get it. I'm starving, and I've been craving Yogi's."

"I thought you didn't want to leave me?"

His stomach growls. "Well, when you put it like that—"

My phone continues to ring. "Go," I tease. "I'll be fine. Grab me some chopsticks so I can refine my skills."

He leaps off the sofa and heads toward the door, returning a second later, right as the call goes to voicemail, and grabs my face with one hand, slipping his tongue between my lips before nibbling on my lower lip and pulling away. "I'll be quick."

I wipe my hand over my swollen lips and grin to myself. I pull a pillow over my lap, and Dax disappears to the door before he returns.

He laces his fingers into my hair and tilts my head back, staring into my eyes. "Mine," he growls and leans into me, his mouth asking permission as he slows the intensity with a whisper of a touch.

"As long as you bring me sushi," I whisper as I swat at his chest and my phone starts to buzz again. "Go."

"Give me twenty," he says, giving me a satisfied smile.

I swipe my finger over the screen and cover the phone with my palm. "Tell that to the cab driver."

"I don't want to go," he says, his voice husky, before our mouths meet again.

I push one hand against him, my breaths coming uneven and tortured. I grab him by the strap of the sling, tugging him closer to my lips; I push him away and whisper, "Thanks for the butterflies."

He leaves, and the door closes. I finally glance at the screen. The seconds of the answered call are already ticking when there's a muffled, "Hello? You there?"

I pull the phone to my ear. "Hi, sorry about that." Instant regret floods through me that I didn't think to pay attention to who is on the other line.

"It's fine. I just wanted to check on you." Luca's voice is a welcome comfort I didn't realize I needed. I drop back against the cushion, running my finger over my lips and the tingling sensation Dax left in his wake.

"I'm fine. Tired." I yawn for emphasis as I stare at the ceiling.

"I'm sure you saw the news. We gave a statement but didn't get into details about the assault or suspicion on the murders. Figured we'd leave that for another day."

"I can appreciate that. I don't need that jerk showing up on my doorstep again."

Luca chuckles. "Yeah, you and cameras don't mix well."

"It's Jenks and me who don't mix well."

"Well, stay home and stay safe. Also, IT checked on the cameras. They weren't working and didn't catch anything. I gave them your laptop. Eugene is going to work on recovering the recording. Do you want more time off? You know you can take as long as you need."

"Work is a great distraction. Plus, with Kline behind bars, we shouldn't have to worry about anything else happening to our doctors."

"I hadn't thought of it that way. But he's bound to make bail soon. Be cautious. If you're good coming back, you know the doors are always open—after this week is over." He chuckles.

I lean forward, settling my elbows on my knees as my eyes land on Dax's hat next to the fireplace. Thoughts of running my hands through his messy hair send a tingle through my body. I grab it and make my way into the hall, hanging it over the newel post before I head upstairs.

"I'll see you Monday. Rest. We've got everything covered while you're out," Luca says.

There's a knock at the door and I turn, hopping back down the two steps as I grab Dax's hat. Perfect timing. I'll join him, and we can eat at the park.

"Sounds good," I say as I reach for the door and hang up.

"You couldn't stay away, could you?" I tease, slipping my foot into my tennis shoe as I pull the door open.

My eyes register the person before me, and my smile fades.

The phone clatters to the floor.

I can't move.

I cover my mouth, stifling a scream. I stumble back as my lungs stop cooperating. The hairs lift on the nape of my neck, and I try to convince myself to slam the door. To run. To do something.

But my body doesn't respond.

"Expecting someone else?" The gruff voice breaks me from my trance as he shoves a foot into the doorway, blocking my attempt at closing it as he forces his way inside. "That's too bad."

THE END

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