Chapter 9 Lucy
LUCY
It’s unusual for a lawyer to take the time to visit a client at their home and become friends with them, but I find myself standing in front of Dr. Greer Hansen’s door anyway after texting her for her address.
Even though I know full well that it might bring me face-to-face with Nolan “Butcher” Deeks again.
Because I need a friend.
And I’m one of those women that, sadly, doesn’t have a lot of those.
I spent most of my time when I was young with Grudge.
So many others from school and college wanted to associate with me because of my father’s money.
I have colleagues in New York, even people I’d go out for drinks with on a Friday evening.
But none of them would understand this world. I’m not even sure what I want to share with Greer…just…that I don’t want to be alone after what just happened.
Before I can knock on the door, my phone vibrates in my hand, and I see another message from Henry.
I’m not giving up that easily, Lucy. You’re the woman for me and I know I nearly let that slip through my fingers. But I’m going to message you every day until you remember how good we were before I screwed up.
Attached is a photograph of a trip we took to Nantucket. We’re standing with the Brant Point Lighthouse behind us and smiling because, in that moment, we were, I thought, genuinely happy.
It stings, even though I know my own mind and am adamant that we aren’t getting back together. I’m wise enough to know that I could never trust him again, no matter how he promised to change. But I’m also human enough to be hurting.
My thumb hovers over the block button.
“Lucy,” Greer says as she tugs the door open. “I’m so happy to see you. The security cameras Butcher insisted on installing showed me you were here. Come in.”
“Thank you,” I say, closing my phone without pressing the block button as I step inside.
Greer holds out her hand for my coat, and I pass it to her before toeing off my shoes. But I keep my bag close because it now holds important evidence.
“Wait,” she says. “You’re shaking. Is that because of the cold or…?”
I take a deep breath, then another. “It’s the ‘or’ option. I wasn’t sure where else to go.”
Greer pulls me in for a hug. “Then, I’m glad you came here. Let’s get you warm. We can talk…if you want to.”
“You have a beautiful home,” I say, not ready to talk about what happened.
It’s a true log cabin. And I realize I don’t know where Grudge lives anymore.
I wonder if he has a home just like this.
I can’t imagine he’s still in the horrible old apartment that he never quite fit into, and yet always seemed at home in.
The hallway opens up into a breathtaking living space. A huge window looks out beyond the fields to the jagged mountains. The peaks are already snow-covered.
But the inside looks as though it’s being demolished.
“Oh my gosh, you’re busy, I’m sorry,” I say.
Greer shakes her head. “We’re gutting the lower level. Nolan is in demolition mode, and we haven’t even finished packing up yet. Please”—she removes the clear plastic cover off the sofa—“take a seat. Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
She grabs a mug and pours me a cup from the pot that sits on what’s left of the kitchen counter. “Hope you don’t mind. It’s decaf and all we have. Nolan’s trying to clean up his diet, and given I’m pregnant, we decided we didn’t need caffeine.”
I put a hand to my chest and mock gasp. “Do without coffee? How can you?”
Greer chuckles. “It’s been hard, I’m not gonna lie. Cream?”
I shake my head. “Just black, please. I couldn’t live without coffee. I’m just going to drink this and be grateful it’s coffee flavored.”
“Honestly, I do the same thing every time I drink it. But Quinn, who runs the bakery, sells this, and it’s deliciously caffeine-free. If you go in there to buy coffee, don’t speak to Quinn about books, or she’ll rope you into her book club.”
I sip the coffee, and Greer was right, it’s delicious. “What kind of books do they read?”
“One hundred percent caffeinated romance.” There’s the slight sound of disdain in Greer’s tone.
“The last book I read was Slaves In Paris by Miranda Spieler. It’s biographical, about enslaved people in pre-Revolutionary Paris.”
“Oh, that sounds really interesting. I tried telling Quinn about a book I was reading about an all-female-run medical hospital in France during World War I, and I could see her eyes glaze over. I called her a bibliotaph, she called me highbrow. Then, we laughed and ended up discussing how vast the world can be if you read.”
It’s clear from the way she talks that she loves her friend.
There is genuine affection in her tone as she sits down next to me on the sofa.
“You should stay, and then we can have book club on the same night, even in the same place, but they can talk about the books they read, and you and I could pick our own.”
“I love that idea. But it’ll have to wait until you confirm you no longer need my services. I try to keep professional boundaries, despite suddenly showing up here.”
Greer nods. “Of course. As a surgeon, I know what you mean. Doctor-patient privilege is the same as lawyer-client privilege too. But, in this case, my issue is most definitely closed.”
“Good.”
“So, if we’re now friends, can I ask? What happened?”
I sigh. “I had a run-in with two of the Rebels Motorcycle Club.”
Greer grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Oh my gosh. Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Do you need medical assistance?”
I shake my head. “Scared me a little, but they didn’t lay a finger on me.” The memory of my assault from all those years ago flickers through me. If I survived that, I could get through this.
Greer nods. “I’ve been on the receiving end of one of their visits. It isn’t fun. How did you get away?”
“I ran.” I sigh, again. “And Grudge.”
The corners of Greer’s mouth turn up in a grin. “Grudge, huh?”
“He saw them off, and then, yelled at me. You already saw from our meeting a month ago that we have history.”
“No shit.” Greer says. “I think everyone in the police lot four weeks ago could see that. I don’t know the other men all that well, yet, but I’ve never seen a man that riled before.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “Most people in the lot were probably there when we detonated.”
“How long were the two of you together for?”
I think about the question. “Deliberately, two heady years. But in reality, we were friends for a really long time before we ever kissed. He was the year above me in school, and, one day, he saw me being tormented by a bully in my year. He stepped in, smacked the kid around a little. Then, told me to go find him if the bully tried anything else.”
“And I’m guessing you did?”
“I became his shadow. I only ever felt safe when I could reach out and touch him.”
Greer hugs her coffee to her chest and leans back on the sofa. “I know how that feels.” She turns her head to face me. “You ever wonder about the dichotomy of it? Like, you feel safe with them, but safe in the roughest and toughest possible world they live in?”
“Is that how you met Butcher?”
“I’m not sure how much he’d be comfortable with me sharing, but let’s just say that I helped Butcher medically, and somewhere along the way, this happened.” She rubs a hand over her still-flat stomach. “I planned to walk away, but then, I ended up in a mess and Butcher took care of it.”
I put my mug down and cover my ears. “La, la, la, la, la.”
Greer chuckles. “You’re squeamish about the topic of sex?”
“God, no. I’m squeamish about you telling me things about messes Butcher took care of and not being able to unhear them if you ever need a lawyer again.”
Greer grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Well, let’s assume you asked what the mess was, and I told you that my…” She looks around the room, and her eyes land on a large cardboard box. “Dishwasher. That my dishwasher leaked, and that’s what he took care of.”
“Understood. That’s very good of him.”
“I thought so. So, what happened between you and Grudge?”
“We were married. And now we aren’t.”
Greer’s jaw drops open. “Grudge was married. How did I not know that?”
I look out the window, at the wide expansive view I’ve missed. Snowflakes begin to tumble lazily from the sky. I find myself wanting to be here when the pines droop from the weight of it on their branches. Greer reaches for my hand. “Did he cheat on you?”
“That’s what most people assume. But no, he didn’t. I was headed to college in Massachusetts, I had a place at Harvard for undergrad and stayed there for law school, and he was headed to prison. I don’t want to say anything Grudge would be uncomfortable with me saying.”
Greer is holding my hand, but she squeezes it. “I knew he’d been to prison. It’s partly why he’s now president.”
“It is?”
She releases my hand. “He was a prospect when he arrived in prison. But he saved Nolan’s life inside because their sentences overlapped for a few months.
Nolan got out first and met him on the day of his release with a cut and the road name Grudge because, apparently, he was all about scores he was going to settle when he got out, something to do with… ”
It dawns on both of us at the exact same time.
“I’m probably one of the things, reasons, people he holds a grudge against.” The idea that the way I hurt him played into his road name stings.
“Shit. I’ve said too much.”
I shake my head, even as a wave of sadness crashes up against the pride I felt. That Grudge would save his president’s life. There are so many details I want to ask about, but I can see by the way Greer looks utterly devastated that she won’t reveal another thing today.
“Hey,” I say, more calmly than I feel. “I swear I won’t say a word. Given how the divorce went down, I’d be surprised if he didn’t have issues with me. Grudge. Revenge. Anger. Could be any of them.”