35. Audrey
AUDREY
I left for work early Wednesday morning and spent the day in the ER. It was a slow day, and I tended to a handful of lacerations and respiratory illnesses, one broken arm, and an elderly man in the early stages of dementia who’d wandered off at the grocery store with his daughter.
I tried calling Dean on my break, hoping to de-escalate the conflict between us, but he wouldn’t pick up. I took a walk around the hospital grounds instead, forcing myself not to look over my shoulder, half expecting Dean to jump out at me from behind every corner.
I thought about the Bulls, about the night before when Ridge and Holden had fucked me in front of Graham, and was immediately wet.
Who could blame me?
It had been better than I could have imagined.
First, there was the pleasure, which had been intense and all-consuming.
The act of being filled by both of them at the same time had made me feel complete in a way I hadn’t expected, obliterating all the thoughts and worries that had become part of my everyday life as Ella’s mom, Dean’s ex-wife, an ER doctor always on alert for the next trauma.
But it hadn’t just been the pleasure: I’d felt safe.
That was something I hadn’t expected.
They’d been fucking me — and I wasn’t under any illusion, I knew it had been about their pleasure too — but I’d known I was in good hands with a bone-deep certainty I couldn’t have explained.
I thought about Graham, wondered why he hadn’t joined in, why he’d treated me with such care afterwards if he didn’t want me enough to fuck me when clearly this was something the Bulls did together all the time.
There was something there, behind Graham’s stormy eyes.
Something wounded.
Why did I care? Was it just the doctor in me who wanted to heal him?
By the time I returned from my break, anticipation quickened my pulse.
I had two more nights with the Bulls before Ella came to stay for the weekend, and instead of feeling nervous about the fact that I’d be alone with the three tattooed men who dominated my thoughts, I was excited to get back to the ranch.
It was after seven when I left the hospital, and dusk was settling over the fields and mountains as I made my way out of Carlton. I exhaled all the stress from the hospital and rolled down my windows, breathing in the fresh air outside of the suburbs.
It was hard to believe that just fifteen minutes outside of the suburbs — full of malls and grocery stores and restaurants — the land stretched in every direction, the mountains rising in peaks on almost every side.
Here wildflowers dotted the fields like jewels, and cows and horses grazed behind fences next to the road. It was so different from the sterility of the hospital, and I realized I felt calmer out here, away from everything and everyone.
It would be good for Ella too. She could play outside more, learn to ride a horse, run wild a little.
I checked my rearview mirror all the way to the ranch — there was a long stretch of road with very little traffic — keeping an eye out for Dean’s Escalade, and finally pulled into the gate with no one behind me.
I should have been relieved, but silence from Dean was never a good sign.
I pulled next to Graham’s big truck and got out, then headed into the main house, feeling strangely nervous about seeing the Bulls after the intimacy of our fucking the night before.
I climbed the steps to the porch and hesitated in front of the door before ringing the bell.
Holden answered a second later, looking confused.
“What the fuck are you doing, doc?”
“I’m supposed to stay here right?” I asked. “Until the weekend when Ella comes?”
“I mean why the fuck are you knocking? You live here. Just come in.” He opened the door and I stepped inside. “I’ll get you a key in case you need to get in when we’re not home.”
“Thanks.”
“You can hang your bag on one of the hooks,” he said, gesturing to a series of jackets — denim and flannel — and hats hanging on the wall. “Or not. Whatever you want.”
I hung my bag and stepped into the house, which was filled with the scent of something delicious cooking in the kitchen.
“Evening, wildcat,” Ridge said from behind the island.
“Hey.”
“How was your day?” Holden asked. “Want a beer?”
“My day was good,” I said. “And yeah, sure, I’ll take a beer.”
I followed Holden to the kitchen.
“That smells good,” I told Ridge.
“Meatloaf’s in the oven,” he said, mashing potatoes in a pot. “Nothing fancy.”
These guys loved their mashed potatoes. Then again, who didn’t?
“You sure do cook a lot,” I said.
Ridge had made the big breakfast my first morning at the ranch, Graham had cooked the killer steaks the night before, and now here was Ridge again, making meatloaf.
Ridge laughed. “Why do you sound surprised?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Three guys, living alone…”
“Kind of sexist don’t you think?” Holden asked, handing me a beer.
I laughed. “I guess so.”
“My meatloaf isn’t as good as Reva’s.” Ridge said, “but thought you might want a fresh meal tonight.”
“Who’s Reva?” I asked.
“She cooks and cleans for us now and again,” Holden said. “Leaves us those black containers in the fridge and freezer for when we don’t have time to cook.”
“Help yourself to those anytime,” Ridge said. “Reva’s a great cook.”
I looked up as Graham entered the room carrying a laptop. It was an incongruous site, like seeing a grizzly bear with a cell phone.
“Evening,” he said to me.
“Evening.” It was such an old-fashioned greeting, but everything here felt old-fashioned and it was surprisingly easy to fall into the routines and rituals.
Surprisingly comforting.
“How long until the food’s done?” Graham asked Ridge.
“Half hour or so on the meatloaf,” Ridge said.
Graham opened the laptop on the dining room table.
“Good, let’s talk.”