Teddy #3
Indie giggled, and I leaned down to catch the sound with my mouth. Her hand slid into my hair, and mine cradled her face to keep her there for a few more seconds.
“Let’s go after breakfast tomorrow,” she said when she finally pulled back, holding out her pinky. “Deal?”
Smiling like an idiot, I hooked my pinky around hers.
“Deal.”
And now she’s home.
The banging outside makes me smile. The roof is finally getting done, the last major project before the house is officially finished.
The exterior has been painted a darker blue, the porch sanded and stained, the railings reinforced, and the stone path leading to the front door redone so Indie won’t trip on the uneven stones when she trudges home after long shifts.
The inside of the house has completely transformed into a home.
An eclectic mix of new and old decorations and furniture that just feels us decidedly.
The front sitting room was originally supposed to become a reading room for her, but Indie asked if she could take over that space herself and turn it into a surprise.
I’ve given her free rein and am curious about what she'll make of it.
Nights are quiet in the most wonderful way. Sometimes I cook before she gets home, and when she walks in around seven-thirty, tired and beautiful in her scrubs, I kiss her hello and send her upstairs to shower or take a bath if the day was bad. I’m so damn glad I got the clawfoot tub for her.
Then we’ll either eat dinner at the kitchen island together or in front of the television watching our favorite shows or movies.
I’ll get a fire going in our big fireplace, and after we clean up our meal, we’ll cuddle together on the couch, both under a thick blanket, Indie under my arm, her head against my chest.
And I’ll close my eyes and feel so grateful for the opportunity to prove myself to Indie.
To get a second chance.
And sometimes I feel like I’ll hear Nana’s laughter through the house, especially when we play one of her records, and I’ll pull Indie into my arms, both of us singing along to ABBA or Fleetwood Mac or CCR.
Life is perfect.
My smile widens as I hear the front door close—though my brow furrows when it closes a little more forcefully than normal.
Poor Indie. She must have had a bad day.
I wipe my hands on my jeans as I step out of the office. I’m already thinking about dinner, about running her a bath, about taking her to get ice cream even though it’s freezing out. Just to make her smile.
“Hi, baby…” I say, but pause when I finally see her.
Indie is just standing in the middle of the foyer, one hand still on her backpack, eyes staring into space. Tears are leaking down her cheeks. Her mouth is trembling, but she is holding it closed so tightly her lips look white.
And her face is a brutal mix of anger and devastation.
“Honey?” I ask, rushing toward her. My hands are cradling her face and her eyes raise to mine. The emptiness in them turns my blood cold. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I’ve been suspended without pay,” she says, her voice flat. “Pending investigation…”
My heart stops. The words don’t make sense and sound like they’re in another language.
“What?” I whisper.
“I’m under investigation,” she says, and her voice is flat in a way that scares me more than if she were screaming. “Bluewater’s ethics and credentialing board received a formal complaint from Hyde Cancer Center. There’s also a report being filed with Chicago’s state medical board.”
“For what?”
Indie is amazing at her job. I know this. I’ve seen it. What the fuck could she be under investigation for?
“Elder abuse. Professional misconduct. Financial exploitation.” Her voice shakes harder with each phrase, like every word is a slap she had to sit through.
“Apparently, I began a relationship with you so I could manipulate Ellie into leaving me money when she died. I didn’t even know about the fucking inheritance until you came to London! ”
“I know, honey, I know,” I soothe, my mind going a mile a minute. Rage is swirling in my gut, white hot and almost blinding, but I shove it aside because my girl is shaking in my arms. “I know you didn’t—”
“Teddy, they think that I coerced Ellie into leaving me money!” Indie cries, tears steadily falling from her eyes as she shakes her head almost frantically.
Her hands curl as she fists the front of my shirt like I’m anchoring her to earth.
“I would never! You know I loved Ellie! I didn’t care about money—”
“Shhh…” I soothe her, “Baby, I know—okay, I know. You loved Ellie. She loved you. This is bullshit. Nothing but fucking bullshit.”
“Teddy,” Indie asks, her voice sounding so small now.
“What am I going to do? What if I lose my license? Everything I studied for, what if it’s ripped away from me?
What if I can’t be a doctor anymore? I worked so hard—” Indie breaks into a sobbing shriek, burying her face in her hands.
I’ve never seen her cry like this, and the sight of it is tearing me apart.
“We’re going to figure this out, okay?” I gently pull her hands away from her face and cradle her face, letting her meet my eyes so she can see how fucking serious I am. “We’re going to fix this.”
Indie nods after a moment, before her lips press into a line. “Teddy, you know who reported me.”
Anger spikes in my chest at that, because yes, I do. I know exactly who would have done this. Someone I thought might let go when she realized she had driven away all her children. I haven’t spoken to my mother since I blocked her number.
I have no desire to.
But, she just fucked with Indie.
And I’m going to be the one to handle it.
My jaw sets. “And she’s not going to get away with it.”
Indie blinks at my words, brows and eyes softening at the thunderous expression on my face.
I snarl quietly, “I promise, honey, I won’t let her get away with it. I swear to God.”
Indie’s face collapses again, and I just do what I can in this moment. I wrap my arms around Indie and fold her into my chest, feeling her melt against me like she’s allowing me to take some of the weight.
I’ll take all of it onto my shoulders if it means she’ll be safe and happy.
“She’s not going to get away with it,” I say, my voice low. A vow to Indie, and I press a long kiss to her forehead, sealing it. “I promise.”