24. ANASTASIA
Chapter twenty-four
T he evening sun glinted off the gently lapping water as Conan and I sat down at the edge of the pool, dipping our feet into the surprisingly warm water.
“So, you just vanished after that kiss,” I said, my words sharper than I’d intended. “What gives?”
Conan shifted, placing his fist next to my hip as he leaned in closer. “Look, Angel, I didn’t mean to be a dick to you. Staying away was the last thing I wanted, but I had no choice.” His jaw was clenched tight, and his face—only inches away from mine—had a look on it I’d not seen before. His frustration was palpable. Clearly, he was pissed off. The heat in his eyes and the way his nostrils flared made my breath hitch.
I tried to keep my composure, despite the chaos swirling inside me. “I…I’m sorry. Let’s just drop it. It’s not worth worrying about,” I said, my words stumbling out in a rush. What the hell could his problem be? With heat rushing up my neck, I turned, preparing to slip into the pool to escape further confrontation, but he reached out with his big ole giant hand and captured my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to face him.
“You’re wrong. It is worth worrying about,” he said. Then he took a long breath, his stare unflinching as I blinked in stunned silence. “You deserved better—as a patient and someone suffering from a TBI. You have amnesia for Christ’s sake. It was unprofessional, bordering on perverse, of me to kiss you or take advantage of you. I’m a fucking nurse—your nurse—who was responsible for your initial care. I was in a position of power over you when you were at your most vulnerable. What I did was wrong, a big mistake. That’s on me, not you, and for that I’m sorry.”
My mouth dropped open, but words wouldn’t form. I shook my head, trying to clear the whirlwind of embarrassment and anger. Did he honestly think I was so pathetic that a fucking kiss could possibly damage me somehow? I smacked his hand away from my chin.
“It was only a simple kiss,” I said. “It’s not like you threw me against a wall and fucked me until I didn’t know my name—not that I know my name, but you get my drift. Besides, I all but fell into your lap and begged you to kiss me. No need to be dramatic. It was no big deal.” I huffed, rolling my eyes so hard it hurt.
He dropped his chin to the side and arched his brow as his tight lips curved into a half-smirk. “Sorry, didn’t mean to imply that a kiss from me was any big deal. As gorgeous as you are, I’m sure back in your real life you have men falling at your feet. So, let me rephrase. In a hospital environment, none of the staff should ever allow themselves to participate in an inappropriate interaction with a patient. I not only did that, but was caught in the act.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, just as I was about to pull away from our kiss, I looked up, and your ever-diligent guard was staring straight at me from the doorway.”
My lips formed a silent O as understanding dawned.
“That’s why I bolted. I went to Atticus, and he not-so-gently advised me to self-report before the guy told on me. I swear, if we hadn’t been standing in the middle of the ED, he would’ve punched me right in the face,” Conan confessed, a rueful grin flickering across his face.
I couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. “So, what happened then?”
“I self-reported. But I didn’t expect the chain of events to unfold like they did. Let’s just say Administration wanted to fire my ass. If it hadn’t been for Atticus threatening to leave and take Sam with him, I wouldn’t have a job. It could have cost me my career. Instead, they agreed to put me on probation and restrict me from leaving the ED except when given specific permission by the charge nurse.” He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in disbelief.
“So, of course, the gossip mill has had a field day with all the speculation about what I did,” he said. “Worse, it impacted Sam. Administration found out she’d taken a special interest in you and demanded she stop. I’ll give it to her though. She stood her ground, telling them it was her duty as a nurse to provide help to those in need. She told them her relationship with you was professional and dared them to prove otherwise. They let it drop, but not without warning her to watch her step because of how the press was treating the whole mysterious Jane Doe situation and her possible ties to organized crime.” His head dropped, and he ran his hand over the back of his neck. “For me, it’s been a big deal .”
My hand shot out to his knee, his bare skin warm to the touch. “I’m so sorry, Conan. I never in my wildest dreams could have imagined all that would happen. Oh my God, I feel terrible that every single person who has reached out to help me has had to suffer. I…I don’t have words to tell you how awful I feel.”
He covered my hand with his, and then his head snapped up, a broad grin spreading across his lips. “I should have just waited for you to get to Atticus’s house.”
I felt his smile all the way to my toes. How could I resist wanting a taste of those lips? But after all he’d been through, I bet he would never take another chance on the girl with the broken head. Fuck, what a shame.
Trying to detour away from the seriousness of our conversation, I teased, “Oh, so you think you’ve earned the right to kiss me again?”
In one swift motion, he pushed off from the ground and sprang to his feet. For a big guy, he had some moves. He extended his open hand, which I more than happily accepted, and helped me up to my feet. Then, pulling me to his chest, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Like Samantha just said, I do like kissing the ladies.”
Before his words could completely register, Sam let out a high-pitched squeal and ran to bear-hug a woman with long, dark brown hair.
Atticus raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Looks like I need to scrutinize the security system, because I could have sworn the front door was locked.”
Sam, still hugging the woman, tossed over her shoulder, “Nah, I updated the protocols, giving Beth her own biometric access. ”
Sam let the woman go and strolled over to Atticus, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t mind.” She chuckled.
Turning toward Conan and me, she shouted, “Hey, you two, come over here and let me introduce Angel to my best friend!”
When we joined them, Sam made a quick introduction. “Angel, this is Bethany, another nurse from the ED at St. John’s. Beth, this is—”
“Oh, I know exactly who this is. She may not have a name, but she’s totally famous,” Bethany said, throwing her arms around me in a big hug. I stood there with my arms pinned to my sides, swaying back and forth.
“Beth, let the woman go,” Conan said. “You’re freaking her the fuck out. Give her a minute to adjust to your hyperactive nature.” He rubbed his fingers over the creases in his forehead.
Bethany let go, pushed me up against Conan’s side, took his hand, and draped his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’s all yours. Wouldn’t dream of stealing her away from you.” Catching my gaze, she winked and headed to the grill, where Atticus stood, checking the temperature of the steaks.
The laughter that bubbled up from my throat felt good, cleansing even. I started swaying to the rhythm of the song that was playing on the speakers—“House Party” by Sam Hunt. “So, what now?” I asked him, the tension finally lifting between us.
“Now?” Conan paused. A playful glint appeared in his eyes. His fingers glided down my arm, and he took my hand, spinning me around in time to the music. “Now, I guess we try to be friends without complications.”
“Friends with no strings attached?” I asked as we continued to dance. The phrase rang a bell, tugging at the hidden part of my mind.
“Exactly.” He grinned. “But you gotta know that I value honesty. I may not have many friends, but I’m completely loyal to those I do have. Anyone who knows me knows that my friends mean the world to me, and I’d go to war for them. I’d give my life for my brothers and those I call friends. Honesty is at the heart of trust, and trust doesn’t come easy to me. I want to trust you, my Angel, and I want you to trust me. So no secrets between us, okay?”
The intensity of this man’s fierce declaration—his request for honesty—made me feel like some sort of sacred bond was being formed. I didn’t know if I had the emotional fortitude to live up to his expectations.
Just then, a man who looked an awful lot like Atticus strolled out the back door and onto the patio, interrupting the moment and leaving Conan’s question unanswered. “Hey, guys,” he said, snagging a handful of chips.
“Brixxie! Hey, brother! Long time no see,” Atticus said, pulling a longneck from the ice-filled tub. Pressing it into his palm, he gave him a one-armed hug.
Conan, still holding my hand, pulled me over to the man. “Angel, this is my other brother, Braxton.”
Braxton took the side of my arm in a firm grip. “You look a hell of a lot better than when I picked you up. How are you doing?” My breath caught at the sight of his big, beautiful smile. Damn, the Thorin brothers had good looks in spades.
“I’m doing great,” I said. “All fixed up…well, except for the giant black hole inside of my head,” I chuckled, shrugging my shoulders.
“At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” Braxton smiled, turning back to Atticus. “When’s the food gonna be ready? I’m starving.”
“Soon. You guys have a seat and enjoy your drinks while Sam and I finish up,” he replied .
Conan, Braxton, and I sat down at a large wooden table and took in the view of the bay that ran along the edge of the property. We laughed and talked while the evening slid into a warm, balmy night. Braxton raised his beer, nodding toward the setting sun. “Longest day of the year. Perfect night to share good food with friends and family. Happy summer solstice, or as the Vikings call it, Midsummer! Sk?l !” he shouted, and we all clinked our glasses and bottles together.
Bethany, already a bit tipsy, flashed a wicked grin and chimed in, “Ooo, after dinner, we all need to go skinny-dipping.” She leaned toward me, giggling, and took a quick sip of her wine. “Last fall, Sam and I went skinny-dipping in the hot tub at their old place. It was an act of rebellion after Atticus made up a bunch of ridiculous house rules when she first started staying with him. We systematically broke every single one within hours. What choice did he give us with such outlandish demands?” She and Sam both laughed out loud.
Atticus’s head whipped around, and he shot us an exasperated look as a smirk curved over his lips. “Oh, that night will be forever burned into my memory,” he said. “Someone had to lay down the law, didn’t they, Samantha?” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before giving her butt a hard smack, nearly causing her to drop the platter of grilled corn she was attempting to set on the table.
She yelped, and her face flashed beet red, but the way she bit her lip told me that the hot-tub incident was a fond memory.
Atticus smiled, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes. “Yeah, with a friend like Bethany, I thought Sam needed a whole list of rules. Nothing too crazy, just something to keep these girls in check. Not that it did a bit of good.”
Bethany quipped, “Please, you were just too uptight! You needed someone like me to shake things up. Sam needed a partner in crime.”
“ Partner in crime is an accurate description, all right. You’re always trying to corrupt her and make her a wild woman like you,” Atticus said, laughing as he scraped his fingers through his hair.
Bethany laughed too, shoving Conan’s shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong with having a little fun. Right, Conan? You can’t tell me you’re not the free spirit of the family, the one who keeps things interesting. You know how to have a good time while also keeping an important day job.”
“Barely,” Atticus shot back with a sarcastic laugh.
“Don’t drag me into this,” Conan said, pointing his beer bottle at Bethany.
At that, everyone laughed. While we waited for the food to come off the grill, we sat back and sipped our drinks, the conversation flowing easily. I mostly watched, taking note of the group’s dynamics, intrigued by their deep connections and contrasting personalities. It was during this lighthearted banter that Conan segued to a more serious discussion.
He leaned back, beer in hand, and gave me a half smile. “Everyone here knows I’m an open book…well except Angel, that is. You guys might call me a free spirit, but it hasn’t been all fun and games, as you know. I wouldn’t want Angel to get the wrong idea about me.”
He gave me a long look before continuing. His eyes were a silent reflection of some inner turmoil. I could tell he wanted me to know there was more to him than just a playboy.
I leaned in, fascinated by the change in his tone.
“Yeah, Atticus has always been the serious one, keeping everything bottled up,” he began carefully. “It almost cost him his happiness too. But thanks to Sam, he’s learning to let go a bit.”
He hesitated, gathering his thoughts, then said, “You don’t know this as the others do, but things were pretty rough for us brothers growing up.” Conan’s eyes traced the patterns on his beer bottle. “When I was six, our mom…she tried to end it all. Survived that only to die from drinking herself to death two years later. Dad followed a year after when his heart gave out.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Even Murphy, the pup, seemed to sense the shift, settling down by Conan’s feet.
There was more than met the eye with Conan, and I wanted to find out more.
“It was a messed up time,” he continued softly. “Atticus, being the oldest, had to step up fast, taking care of Braxton and me. He was barely sixteen. Imagine that—having to suddenly be the man of the house.” Conan’s voice was tinged with a rawness that made my heart ache for him.
Bethany nudged him gently. “But you turned it around, right? You’re not that wild kid anymore.”
Conan nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “I didn’t understand it all back then. I just knew our parents weren’t around like they should’ve been. After they both died, I just…lost it. Yeah, I was definitely out of control for a while. As I got older, you could say I was a guy with a chip on his shoulder, looking for a good time and without a worry as to who got hurt in the process. Getting into a brawl was the only thing that made me feel much of anything. Pain was always a good reminder that I was still alive. So, anyway, I moved to Huntington Beach the day I turned eighteen, started surfing, doing drugs, partying like there was no tomorrow. I used people—especially women—and lived only for the next thrill. It was a shitty way to treat those around me. But at the time I didn’t care. I lived from moment to moment. Man, Atticus had to bail me out more times than I can count.”
“Still do,” Atticus shot over his shoulder.
Conan paused, glancing over at Atticus and then at me for the briefest of moments before taking a sip of his beer. “Eventually, I realized I wanted something more. Seeing Atticus, how his work mattered, how he saved lives…it got to me. Made me want to feel like I was worth something to someone. So I got my ass enrolled in college. But I knew there was no way I could go through all the hoops for medical school, not to mention there was no way in hell I’d ever get into one. Nursing wasn’t just a random choice; it was a way for me to make a difference too. And yeah, the mostly female colleagues didn’t hurt,” he added with a wry smile.
As I glanced around at everyone, I could see they already knew Conan’s truths by the way they nodded and gave him empathetic smiles. It occurred to me that this was his way of sharing his story with me, a part of his keeping the no-secrets pledge he’d made before. What I didn’t know was whether I deserved his trust. What if, in my real life, I was a horrible person…the kind no one looked for when they suddenly went missing?
“But here’s the kicker,” Conan said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a contemplative whisper. “For a long time, I never wanted the whole white-picket-fence life. Marriage, kids, the whole straight-laced path—it never appealed to me. After what I saw at home, how could it? I saw too much go wrong to ever want that. And the whole societal expectation thing—it wasn’t ever for me either. I like the ED because, like me, it’s intense—immediate. You make a real difference, and then you move on to the next crisis. It fits with how I’ve always lived.”
Samantha nodded. “It’s tough, breaking away from what you’re supposed to want.” She patted his shoulders from behind, gazing down at him with a kind expression before returning to help Atticus with the steaks and chicken coming off the grill.
“Yeah, but here’s the thing,” Conan said, looking over at me with a half grin. “Being in the ED, you see the worst day of someone’s life, every day. It makes you appreciate the good moments and the real connections you make. And that’s what I’m after.”
The group fell quiet, mulling over his words. Then Bethany broke the silence. “Well, I say cheers to finding our own paths, no matter how messy.”
Glasses clinked once more, the conversation giving way to an acceptance of the histories we all carried.
The flickering lights around the pool cast a soft glow on everyone’s faces as we settled back and grazed the finger foods on the table before us. I smiled, feeling fortunate to have stumbled into this quirky, caring group of people.
Soon, Atticus and Samantha began serving dinner. Steaks, chicken kabobs, and grilled vegetables were placed on the table alongside the charcuterie board and a platter of fruit. The table was overflowing with food, and everything smelled as great as it looked. Everyone served themselves, piling their plates high and settling in for the meal.
As we dug in, the conversation drifted toward darker topics—to the infamous Volkov estate.
“You know, I read online about the Volkovi Notchi and your kidnapping, Sam,” I said, a shudder running through me despite the warmth of the evening. “It’s horrifying, all that they were into—human trafficking and drugs. Damn, that shit’s for real.”
“Yeah, those Russians were bad news,” Samantha replied, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “And after everything they put me through…I can’t believe Viktor Volkov and his goons got away.”
Conan nodded, adding another piece of steak to his plate. “The Russian mafia is the worst of the worst—society’s gutter rats. They did a lot of damage to a lot of lives in this part of the country. I’m just glad you got out of that mess mostly unscathed, Sam.”
“We were all stunned by the extent of it,” Atticus added in a somber tone. “Makes you wonder who’d buy such a place, knowing its history.”
Samantha glanced over at Atticus. “I’m curious who the woman is and what she’ll do with the place.”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Conan said, reaching across me and grabbing the platter with the grilled veggies. “Whoever it is, she’s gotta have some serious guts or no clue about the estate’s past.”
“Yeah, someone with deep pockets and hopefully better intentions,” Atticus added, tearing off a bite of chicken from a skewer with his teeth. “From what my buddy Colton found out, the owner is a wealthy socialite from New York City who bought the property for investment purposes.”
I mulled over why someone from the New York social scene would be interested in a property in Tacoma. The strangeness of that nagged at my missing memories. Somehow, I had a feeling that most NYC girls would hardly know Tacoma existed, much less buy investment property here. Recalling the image of my driver’s license, I once again got a sense that I was somehow tied to New York.
The subject was dropped, and we continued eating, turning to lighter small talk. When we were finally winding down, Conan excused himself. He soon returned, lugging the old-fashioned ice-cream contraption in his arms. “Time for dessert, and you’re all gonna work for it!” he announced with a grin, setting up the machine on the counter near the grill. He poured the ingredients into the basin before putting ice around the edges and a generous helping of rock salt on top of the ice.
Everyone took turns cranking, and it turned into a mini competition of who could crank fastest. When it was my turn, Conan stood close, offering unnecessary tips. “Careful now, it’s all in the wrist action. ”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He leaned next to my ear and whispered, “Didn’t I warn you about rolling those big beautiful blue eyes at me?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, patting his stomach as I moved around him to return to my seat. “You just finish cranking that off.” I smiled at the low growl he made behind me.
When he began to serve the soft strawberry ice cream, he playfully dabbed a dollop on my nose. Chuckling, I grabbed a spoonful to flick back at him, but my aim faltered, and it plopped onto the ground. Murphy, ever the opportunist, darted over and lapped it up.
After we finished our dessert, we cleared the table, cleaned up the dishes, and put everything away.
Bethany, leaning against the kitchen counter with her chin resting on her palm, gave me a sideways glance.
“Angel, have you noticed Conan here following you around like a lost puppy?” she asked with a teasing lilt to her voice. “I swear, I’ve never seen him like this around anyone.”
Conan, who was in the midst of drying a plate, paused. In one quick motion, he twisted the towel into a makeshift whip and cracked it over Bethany’s backside, causing her to yelp and back away with her hands up in the air in surrender. He threatened to pop her again, but she ran out to the patio. He rolled his eyes at me as his ears reddened, giving away his embarrassment.
“Oh, so you can roll your eyes at me? Mm-hmm, I see the double standard.” The corners of his eyes crinkled, and a bright smile lit up his face, sending fiery tingles straight to the apex of my thighs.
Outside, Bethany screamed, and then there was a splash. I turned to look. Braxton stood laughing at the edge. He had helped her enter the pool the hard way .
Once the dishes were done, the rest of us headed out to join them for a night swim. The temperature was just right. Murphy, not one to be left out, splashed alongside us, his tiny legs paddling energetically.
After a while, Conan floated over to me, nudged my arm, and nodded toward the house, where Atticus and Samantha were already retreating. “Goodnight, guys,” Atticus called. “It’s time for the old guy to turn in. Thanks for coming tonight. It’s always good having you over.” He slid his hand around Samantha’s waist and squeezed, causing her to squeal.
“Those two are in no way tired. Trust me on that one,” Conan whispered, his brows bouncing. “Atticus just wants some alone time with his lady.”
Bethany, catching on, laughed. “Well, we’d better clear out then. Don’t want to interrupt the romance. Come on, Braxton, let’s let these lovebirds have their nest.”
“Yeah, it’s getting late, and some of us have early mornings,” Braxton added as he and Bethany wrapped themselves in towels. “Beth, I’ll give you a ride home, and you can pick up your car in the morning,” he offered, sliding into his loafers.
“That’d be great. I was just about to order an Uber.”
She and Braxton disappeared into the house.
With just Conan and me in the pool, the night became quiet and calm. The soft underwater lights made the surface of the water shimmer, casting a magical glow around us. Conan, stretching out on a pool lounger, drifted lazily, while I perched on the edge with my feet in the warm, inviting water.
I gazed up at the full moon and then back down to the water, noticing its silver light reflecting off the pool’s surface. The atmosphere was peaceful, almost dreamlike, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so at ease.
Conan floated closer, his eyes half-closed as a contented smile played on his lips. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
A warmth that had nothing to do with the pool meandered through my chest, spread to my core, and settled between my thighs. “This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in ages,” I admitted, letting my hand trail through the water. “The whole setup here is incredible. It’s like going on a posh vacation.”
He chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his belly. “Yeah, it’s pretty great. Nights like this make all the crazy shifts in the ED worth it.”
I slipped into the pool, the water enveloping me like a gentle hug. Then I swam toward him, the distance between us closing with each kick. The moonlight highlighted the contours of his face, making his features even more striking.
As I floated closer, Conan reached out and pulled me to him, his hand rough against my skin. The desire between us thickened the air. I placed a hand on his chest and, without breaking eye contact, traced the ridges of his abs with my fingers. His skin, wet and warm, seemed to pulse under my touch.
Holding onto the edge of the float with one hand, I shifted my gaze to where the fingers of my other hand glided along his contours. His tattoos, now on full display, were an eclectic mix. Some appeared to be badges of honor, while others were clearly souvenirs of a life well-lived. “You’ve got some really interesting tattoos. Looks like a lot of history inked on your skin.”
He lay still, with one hand tucked up under his head and the other resting on his belly, watching my fingers trace one of the images—a red flag starting low between the V-cut of his hips and disappearing under the waistband of his shorts. He froze as my fingers moved lower.