Chapter 8

"Cricket, are you listening?" I snap my fingers at her, wanting to get the hell out of here. I'm meeting Owen, Rory, Keegan, Kenna, and Vander at Stella's restaurant. Stella Fritz is best friends with Layla and biological cousins with, well, everyone else except for Vander and me.

"Yes," she clips out, though she hasn't removed her eyes from Bennett, who is giving a report to the attending coming on. Somehow my schedule this week has been almost identical to his, but in the last five days that we've shared this floor, the ORs, and the ER together, I think we've maybe said a total of ten words to each other that weren't work-related, and most of them were good morning or good night.

I've caught him watching me several times, a serious look in his eyes, but I haven't had it in me to call him out on it. I'm terrified he'll encourage me not to try to get pregnant. That he'll tell me it'll hurt my shot at this fellowship or at finding a good attending position. Only that's bullshit.

I know plenty of doctors who have gotten pregnant or had babies and were still at the top of their game. Mason's and Owen's mothers for starters. And frankly, it's none of his business. It's mine, but… any comfort or even friendship we had been building seems to have evaporated, and I don't know what to do about it.

I shouldn't—I know I shouldn't—but… I weirdly miss him. I liked the way he talked to me and the way he looked at me, even if I knew it would never lead to another dark-corner kiss. But since Zane, Bennett is the first man to get my heart going again, and it felt fucking good. Like he was my secret. Like our past was something between us that no one else here knew, and with that, it fed into that something else.

Now that's all gone, and I've spent this week telling myself that I'm not only relieved it is, but that it's for the best, as anything else is an unnecessary and frankly unwanted complication.

"Then perhaps you should focus on what I'm saying instead of your boss."

She rolls her eyes, looks at me for two-point-five seconds, and then returns to Bennett. "He's going to give me the fellowship."

"Oh? He told you that, did he?"

My sarcasm finally manages to catch her attention, and now she's eyeing me like a cat eyeing a mouse they're about to pounce on and eat. "Wes isn't in charge anymore, so you're no longer the favorite simply because you were born into the right family."

I give her a bored look. "You know I wasn't born into the Fritz family, right?"

Another eye roll. She's famous for them. "Whatever. You know what I mean. It's an even playing field now between us, and I'm going to get that fellowship because I'm the better surgeon."

Cricket Peterson is a pain in my ass. She's been a pain in my ass for the last four years, and I know this last year of residency won't be any different. She's general surgery with a focus on trauma, same as I am, and we both want that coveted fellowship spot. And before this, I would have laughed in her face because that fellowship was all but mine. Everyone, including her, knew it.

Now nothing is a guarantee. Far from it.

For the first time since I started my residency, I'm worried about her as an actual competitor, if for no other reason than my current standing with our new chief of trauma surgery.

Only she sucks, and I'm awesome, so…

I shake my head. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, Cricket, but it's never been an even playing field with us. Never." I stand. "Have fun kissing ass tonight. Dr. Iverson really enjoys it when you do that. Especially on a night shift." I give her a saccharine-sweet smile and then walk off. She can figure out what the patients need on her own. I've documented everything in their charts anyway.

I fly down to Keegan's floor, and then the two of us hop in an Uber and head across town to pick up Vander from his cave before we head to Stella's. This restaurant might be my favorite in the city, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Stella is my godmother. Keegan hasn't stopped talking the entire way, gabbing on about a patient with a placenta previa and one of her interns who she thinks is cute but a little brainless. Vander is doing God only knows what on his phone and has generally ignored us.

"Well, now I'm officially competing with Cricket," I inform them as we take our seats at our regular table by the end of the bar. "My boss hates me. He overheard Zane talking about the baby stuff, and then when he asked me about it, I told him. I mean, I didn't tell him I was looking into sperm donors, and I didn't tell him I was thinking of trying soon so I could have a baby between the end of my residency year and the start of my fellowship, but it didn't matter. He knows what I'm planning to do, and since then, he wants nothing to do with me. It's like I'm mommy-tracked without being a mommy yet. Plus, I think he thinks it's weird that I want kids without being married or something."

"Does he know why you want kids, even without a man as part of it?" Vander asks, rolling his tongue ring between his lips, his colorful tattoos on full display beneath his T-shirt that matches his green eyes.

I look down at my hands. "No. That's personal. I shouldn't have to tell him."

"You're right," he agrees firmly, his voice tinted with ire. "You shouldn't. And he can't mommy-track you. It's against hospital policy and, frankly, a suable offense."

"I know. It's easy to say that, but the reality is, I've worked my ass off for years to get where I am and though I really, seriously, desperately want a baby, I'm worried I'm risking everything I've built along the way to have one."

"Do you want me to look into him?"

"Noooo," I draw out, shaking my head violently at Vander. "I don't want you to do anything that you know how to do."

"Only people with something to hide should be afraid, Kit-Kat."

"I still don't know what you did to Zane to get him arrested and interrogated by the FBI." Thankfully Zane has no clue what Vander—or his father Lenox—can do with a computer and likely never suspected anything.

He smirks like the devil. "I don't know what you're talking about. All I know about Zane is that he fucked with the wrong girl and has a penchant for looking up local crime scene photos on his computer. Pretty damn creepy if you ask me and definitely suspect."

Keegan places her hand on my shoulder. "Ignore him. What does Owen say about what's going on with Bennett?"

I shrug. "I haven't?—"

"What's going on with Bennett? Isn't that your new boss?"

"Nothing," I exclaim, jumping to my feet and blowing past Owen to gobble Rory up in my arms. "Hey, lovebug. How was camp today?"

"I passed swim today," she exclaims, oozing delight.

"Level four, to be exact," Owen supplies.

"You did? Level four?!" My eyes widen, and my eyebrows hit my hairline. I glance up and meet Owen's gaze before I turn back to my girl. "That's amazing! I'm so proud of you."

He chuckles, ruffling her hair. "All that time spent in the pool with her godmother is paying off."

I rub noses with Rory. "Totally, right? You're on your way to being a mermaid."

"Like you were."

I kiss her cheek. "Like I was." Because when I was her age, I had just lost my parents and I threw myself into The Little Mermaid for no reason other than that Ariel was beautiful and a mermaid, and I thought that was so cool. So I told my uncle Callan I wanted to be a mermaid, and he put me in swim lessons, and I swam and swam. All through grade school, high school, and college—where I got a scholarship for swimming. I still swim as often as I can, but having Rory love swimming just fills my heart with joy.

Stella comes out of the kitchen and hugs and kisses all of us. We order our usual, and then Stella takes Rory back because Rory likes to help Stella make her dinner, and Keegan goes with her, leaving me alone with Vander and Owen since Kenna still isn't here yet.

Vander fills Owen in on the discussion we had before he arrived. "Are you looking at donors?" Owen asks.

"I haven't officially started yet. I need to find a place to live first and finally move out of Keegan and Kenna's office and off their sofa bed. I just haven't had the time to really start looking and figure out what I want and what part of the city I want to be in. But I got the green light from my endocrinologist as well as my gynecologist. My endometriosis, so far, hasn't grown back after my surgery, my A1c and blood sugars are in good control, and my ovaries are cyst-free."

"So you're ready," he confirms, smiling at me in a way that tells me he's as excited about this for me as I am.

I beam. "I'm ready." And then I frown. "Except don't think my boss is too keen on me having a kid."

Vander curses under his breath, and Owen scowls in that big brother, overprotective way of his. "He's not allowed to make a decision about a fellowship based on a woman's family situation, only her skill."

"That's what I told her," Vander states flatly.

"I know."

Owen growls, and I can see he's working up a head of steam here. "If he does, he's messing with the wrong fucking army."

"No joke," Vander agrees, tossing his arm behind my chair and leaning in to speak softly. "I'd happily take him out of the picture."

"Guys." I give them a chill-out smile. "I've got this. I am a grownup despite the way I act sometimes."

"Fine." Owen holds up a consolatory hand. "But if your boss turns out to be a misogynistic dick, there are other fellowships. Brigham, Tufts, and BMC all have trauma programs, and though you haven't specialized in pediatrics, I could put in a good word for you at Children"s."

I nod, taking a sip of my freshly delivered margarita. "I know, and I love you for that. We'll see. It could take a bit for me to get pregnant anyway, and I still have to fight with the bug, Cricket, for my spot."

"You're not leaving Boston, Katy," Vander tells me in no uncertain terms, sipping on his tequila.

"I have no plans to. Let's take one thing at a time. Hopefully, all of this is a non-issue." I stand and kiss the top of each of their heads. "I'm going to the bathroom before the food comes. Do me a favor? While I'm gone, both of you take some deep breaths. You're wound tighter than a nun's asshole."

I grab my purse, head around the bar area toward the bathroom, and push through the swinging door. I do my business, wash my hands, and reapply my lip gloss. I'm freaking starving, which reminds me. Opening my purse, I pull out my phone and check my blood sugar reading from my continuous glucose monitor.

One hundred and thirty-four. Not great, but not bad. I dial up my short-acting insulin to six units, clean an area of my stomach with alcohol, and then inject myself with my pen.

I put everything away and head back out, only to nearly bash into the man standing outside the women's restroom. "What are you doing here?"

Bennett is leaning against the opposite wall, his expression firm despite his casual pose. "Coincidence. I was at the bar."

"At the bar," I parrot, mentally cringing. "So you overheard…" I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to finish that for me.

"Everything you said to Owen and that other guy," he confirms, and my stomach plummets into my feet. Pushing away from the wall, he stands before me, his hands in his pockets, but his breathing is short and choppy, telling me there's more going on here with him. "They're very protective of you."

"Yes. They are."

His glacial eyes stay locked on mine. "I'm glad you have that, Katy, but are you sure there isn't more going on between you and either of them?"

My nose scrunches up in disgust. "Um. No. Gross. Owen is my best friend, and Vander is like a big brother, though he's younger than me by about seven years even if he looks much older. Trust me, they'd be throwing up on the floor if you asked them that. Just because we're male and female doesn't mean sex is on the agenda for us. Loyalty isn't a game we play at. It's in every pulse of blood in our veins."

He blinks, a bit startled by that declaration, but if he overheard us, he needs to know it goes both ways.

"And you haven't considered using them as donors?"

My eyebrows shoot up. "My cousins?!"

He shrugs. "They're not blood."

"No, but they might as well be for how I think of them. Owen is famous in this city as the eldest grandson of the Fritz family and that's not something I want for my child after all Rory has gone through with the media, but more than that, the thought of having a child with either of them grosses me out."

Another step, his expression is so stoic, so closed off. "I shouldn't be as happy about that as I am. I had the same reaction when I found out you weren't married to Owen."

I narrow my eyes even as I crane my neck to see his face. "What does that mean, Bennett? What are you doing right now?"

He chuckles, but there's no humor in it. "Something I know I shouldn't be doing. I'd like to talk to you about something. Would you be willing to come to my house with me? Just to talk."

"I'm here with my?—"

"Family," he finishes for me. "Yes, I know. But this is… well, it's important. Potentially for both of us. But it's not for public ears or consumption, and that includes your family."

I hesitate, unsure what to make of this, but then he's practically against me, his hand on my arm and his eyes beseeching mine.

"Please, Katy. Please. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important. I have a lot to say. A lot to explain."

I search his eyes, and despite his pleading tone laced with a hint of desperation, the rest of him is shuttered up tight. It's… strange. Almost like he's forcing himself to remain detached, and it's a struggle for him.

It piques my curiosity even more. "Okay," I relent because I think he had me at hello, which isn't great, but whatever. "But we should take food to-go. I already ordered, and I just took my shot."

He nods. "Give me five minutes and I'll meet you outside. If you would…" He releases a heavy breath. "I'd rather you not mention to your family that I'm here or that you're leaving with me. If you're okay with that?"

"Are you planning to murder me?"

He coughs, laughing at the same time, and it's like a peek of sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Definitely not."

"I'm safe leaving here with you and not telling my family who I'm leaving with or where I'm going?"

"One hundred percent safe," he vows, placing his hand over his heart. "I'd never hurt you, Katy. Not ever."

Well then. Hard to argue when a man makes a declaration like that to you. Though, if memory serves, Zane fed me a similar line once or twice. Not to mention Bennett's my boss, and though nothing has happened between us, I already feel like we're crossing lines.

All of which means I should say no, but I think we know I won't.

"Then I guess I'll meet you out front in five minutes. But if you don't want questions, I'll get my own food to-go. You can do yours. And if my body ends up in the Charles River, you should know, you'll never see the inside of a jail cell because my grandparents, uncles, aunts, best friends, and all eight thousand of my cousins will kill you and no one will ever find your body."

A soft smile tilts up the side of his face. "Understood."

"Then go. Time is blood sugar."

His hand slides up my arm and then he's gone, leaving me here with far too many questions and a lot more nervous flutters than I want.

What am I doing?

This is crazy.

And yet I'm flying through the restaurant, heading to the kitchen to ask Stella to put mine in a to-go box, kissing Rory goodbye, and since I can't lie for shit and I refuse to do that with them, I tell my family that I have to leave and that they can't ask why but I'm totally fine. They make me promise to explain everything later, and I tell them I will if I can.

I get looks. A lot of looks. And they all share a bunch between themselves too. But despite their protests and pushes for answers, I'm out the door in under five minutes with a to-go bag dangling from my wrist.

"You good?" Bennett questions, standing beside a Mercedes G Wagon.

I narrow my gaze as I get in his top-of-the-line ridiculous ride. "Not really, but I'm here, so let's do it."

He's still a block of ice and doesn't say anything as he drives us up a few blocks. He doesn't even have music playing, and I can't handle the tense silence, so I start to hum to myself.

"You can sing. I like it when you do that."

I raise an eyebrow in his direction. "When do you hear me sing?"

He laughs lightly. "All the time, Katy. You sing all the time. All kinds of things."

"It helps me focus, but right now, I'm only doing it because you're so quiet."

He sighs and deflates a bit. "I know. I'm sorry." That's all he offers me until he pulls into a driveway, straight back into a garage that is connected to a beautiful house on a quiet side street. He comes around and helps me down, taking the bag of food from my wrist.

"You live here?"

"I live here," he confirms.

"And the house?"

"Is all mine."

I look around as we walk from the garage to the house. The backyard is big, which is saying a lot for this part of the city. Considering the G Wagon he drove us here in runs about two hundred grand and private houses with this sort of land at least ten million, I'd say Bennett has money. A lot of money.

I stop talking after that, and he leads me inside through a back patio door that heads straight into a gorgeous freaking kitchen with dark blue cabinets, white and gray marble counters, brass hardware, and the coolest appliances I've ever seen.

"Have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Absolutely," I tell him, not even bothering to pretend I'm cool or composed because I'm anything but. Only something occurs to me as I watch him take out glasses and silverware for us. "Is this a date?"

He pauses, his back to me, until he turns and meets my steady gaze. "No."

"Why am I here, Bennett?"

"You need to eat. I'll explain as you do."