Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Red
Morning light slips through the narrow gap in the curtains, pale and quiet, the kind that pretends it has no intention of exposing anything. Blue is already awake. I know because she isn't beside me anymore, and the absence pulls at my attention faster than any alarm ever could.
I find her in the kitchen, barefoot, hair twisted into a loose knot that's already coming undone.
My T-shirt hangs off one shoulder, the soft cotton sliding against skin I shouldn't know so well.
She's humming while the coffee brews, swaying slightly as if the world has finally decided to move at her pace.
I sneak behind her, slide my arms around her waist, and inhale deeply while murmuring in her hair, "Morning, Bluebird."
She turns her head, her smile immediately lighting up the room and me, hitting me harder than it should.
"You're up," she says, like it's a gift.
"I was scared you left," I admit, and kiss the side of her neck.
Her smile grows. She spins. Her arms wrap around my waist, and she presses her cheek against my chest. Her warm breath teases my skin. She tilts her head back, eyes bright, mouth curved with certainty. "I'll never leave you."
Never.
It feels different today than yesterday, although I'm not immune to the fact that I still have no idea how to make things public between us without ruining my career and possibly her life. I push the worry aside, too high from our night together, and ask, "Did you sleep?"
"Yes. Like, I really slept."
My fingers settle at the nape of her neck. I don't pull her closer. I don't push her away. I stay suspended in that narrow space where everything still looks survivable and praise, "That's good."
She studies my face, searching for something, then seems to decide she has found what she wants. Her lips brush my jaw, slow, deliberate, as she announces, "I made plans."
That word lands wrong. Plans belong to people with futures that aren't already burning at the edges.
"For later," she adds quickly. "Nothing big. I just thought…normal things."
Normal.
It's another word that shouldn't be allowed after nights like ours.
She pulls back before I can respond, turning to pour coffee, chatting about nothing and everything at once. Her voice fills the apartment, light and unrestrained, as if yesterday didn't end with promises we both know carry weight neither of us wants to bear.
I watch her move, memorizing details my mind insists on cataloging. The way she reaches on her toes for a mug. The faint crease between her brows when she concentrates. The fact that she's happy in a way that assumes permanence.
When she hands me a cup, she peers at me over the rim of her mug. "You're quiet."
"I'm listening."
She laughs, nudging my hip with hers. "You always say that."
Because it's safer than saying what I'm actually thinking.
Instead of being honest, I kiss her on the forehead, then sigh. "I have to leave for work soon."
Her face falls. "I know. Our amazing night had to end at some point."
Adrenaline pounds through me. I agree, "It was amazing."
She beams, her wild eyes brewing with happiness. "Good. Let's do it again tonight. You can stay at my place, and I'll make you something special for dinner."
I chuckle. "If you insist."
"I do."
I kiss her until my cock's rock-hard, then groan. "I really do have to get ready."
"Okay."
I release her, we spend the next half hour getting ready, and leave together.
That alone is a mistake wrapped in convenience.
The elevator ride is too short, the air too close.
She leans against me as if the building itself might try to separate us.
I keep my gaze on the numbers ticking down, counting seconds instead of consequences.
Outside, the city is already awake with traffic humming by. Someone laughs across the street. Life goes on unbothered, as if nothing special or life-altering happened in the last twelve hours.
Blue steps onto the sidewalk and turns to face me, blocking my path with her body. She gives me a look I've come to learn means she's decided something important is about to happen. "Say goodbye to me."
"I am."
She shakes her head and teases, "No. Properly. Since you own me now." Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into my jacket. She rises onto her toes and kisses me before I can stop her. She pins her lips against mine, giving me the kind of kiss people give when they have nothing to hide.
I kiss her back, grabbing her ass cheeks, unable to resist her enthusiasm. I pull back breathless, grinning, then my heart drops.
Shirley stands across the street, her expression shocked, confused, and disapproving. Her gaze flicks from Blue to me and back again.
Fuck.
No. No. No!
Blue pulls back, smiling, unaware. She brushes her thumb along my jaw. "I'll see you later. Don't work too hard."
"I'll try," I answer, then say, "I'll see you tonight."
"Bye!" She waves and goes the opposite way down the street, then turns, and waves again, like this is a beginning instead of the consequences I'll never be able to shake.
I glance back at Shirley, but she's far down the street. So I walk fast and catch up to her right outside our building.
She shakes her head and points at me. "That was bold."
"It wasn't planned."
Her eyes narrow slightly. "That doesn't make it better."
"I know."
She studies me for a long beat, then looks past me toward the street. "You're playing with fire in daylight."
My stomach clenches. I reply, "I'm aware."
She exhales, sharp and controlled. "We'll talk upstairs."
She turns without waiting for agreement.
Thirty seconds pass before I move. The street suddenly feels too open, too exposed. The tight pull in my gut laughs at me, while my mind screams at me about timing, of consequence, and of how cleanly that moment just locked into place.
The kiss replays in my head, not for what it was but for how visible it became. By the time I turn toward the building, I'm already bracing, aware that whatever waits upstairs isn't a question or a warning, but the start of something I won't be able to undo.
When I get into the office, it feels different. Doors close too softly. Voices lower. I follow Shirley into my private office and shut the door behind me.
She doesn't sit. Neither do I.
She snaps, "You crossed a line."
"I didn't start this," I reply.
Her eyes narrow. "That girl is fifteen years younger than you and needed your help. Not...not whatever you promised her."
"It wasn't like that," I argue, but it's weak.
Her voice stays even. "I don't care what it was like. You're the professional. The legally licensed one."
I nod. "I know."
She adds, "What matters is what happens next."
I lean against the desk, folding my arms. "Nothing has to happen."
Her gaze locks onto mine, steady and unflinching. "You know that isn't true."
Silence stretches between us, thick and deliberate.
"She's not unstable," I say finally.
"I didn't say she was, but we both know she is."
I look away, staring out at the city, feeling a fresh spout of guilt. But it's not about what I've done. It's about how I didn't protect Blue by letting her kiss me in the street.
I blurt out, "If this goes sideways, she'll derail."
"That depends on how it's handled." She picks up my phone and holds it toward me.
It looks heavier than it should. My stomach churns.
Shirley declares, "There are protocols. Mandatory ones. I can't turn my eye at this, Dr. Mercer," she says with sadness in her voice.
My pulse bangs between my ears.
She adds, "If I don't make you report yourself, someone else will. And it'll be worse for her."
The room closes in, walls pressing with invisible force. I stare at the phone, understanding snapping into place with brutal clarity. This is the moment. It's a narrow bridge and the choice that leaves no clean footprints. I played with fire, now I'm burned, but so is Blue.
I hate myself for what this will do to her.
Shirley nudges the phone toward me. "This is the only way you control the narrative."
Control. Another lie that almost comforts.
I take the phone from her. My reflection stares back at me from the dark screen, unfamiliar and resolute. I dial before I can second-guess myself.
When the call connects, a woman says, "Chicago Police Department."
My lungs seize. I force myself to speak clearly, choosing words that will wound me and spare her. "This is Dr. Red Mercer. I'm calling to self-report an ethical violation involving a patient. I'm prepared to cooperate fully and provide a statement immediately."
"You've committed a criminal violation?" the woman asks.
I swallow hard. "Yes."
Outside, the city keeps moving, unaware that something just cracked open beneath it.
And somewhere across town, Blue is still smiling, already planning dinner, believing this morning is solid enough to stand on.
"Where can the police find you?" she asks.
I give her the address.
"I'm sending officers now. Please do not leave your office, or you'll be considered in flight," she finishes, her tone flattening into procedure.
"I won't," I say, and it's the easiest promise I've made all day.
The call disconnects. I lower the phone slowly, my reflection staring back at me from the dark screen, still, composed, already condemned.
Shirley doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to. The damage is done, set in motion with a timestamp and a paper trail that will outlive whatever good I did in my fifteen-year career.
I set the phone on the cradle and straighten my cuffs, muscle memory taking over where instinct has gone quiet.
Somewhere between breaths, I decide clean and contained is how it has to look.
I stay exactly where I am, waiting for the knock that will change everything, feeling sick that Blue will walk into the aftermath with trust in her hands and no warning at all.
Shirley softly says, "You're doing the right thing."