Chapter 13 - Mary
Mary
Cat steps closer, her eyes wide. She reaches for me and I go still, unsure what to do. I had planned to keep her at a distance, but the second I saw her hesitate at my front door, all my resolve from the last few days started to melt away.
But I can’t. Not like this. Not like nothing ever happened. I take a step back, and her fingers freeze in midair.
“I… I’m sorry, I…” she stammers, instantly dropping her hand.
Her eyes search my face, but keep trailing back to my neck, and I instinctively bring my fingers up to cover the bruises. She flinches, the lines of worry evident on her face, and everything in me screams to comfort her. To tell her I am okay, that it is nothing. But I am not, and they aren’t.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s easy to give Cat the forgiveness that she has come here for, but what about me? What do you need, Mary? I need her to tell me why she is here, instead of me filling in the gaps of her silence with my own expectations.
My eyes flutter open to find her holding her breath. I can almost taste her distress, and that is the last thing I want. That’s just not who I am.
I swallow and nod.
“I will be fine, really.”
I can’t keep the warmth from my voice, not when she looks at me like that. Right now, there is nothing left of that mask she wears at the hospital. All I see is a fragile and broken woman who’s worried about me. Not about herself or her career. About me.
Her face crumples slightly at the tone of my voice, and I can see her release some of the tension she was holding. But her eyes are still on mine, worried, questioning.
“What… what happened?”
Her voice is so small that it chips away at my already crumbling walls. What is it about this woman? You’ve never behaved like this before. So gullible. She knows she has no right to ask, but I know she can’t not.
“I…” I blink and swallow. “I acted out, needed to feel something after we…”
I can’t even finish the sentence, but I don’t have to.
Cat recoils at the words alone. Her eyes flash back to the bruises, and I can see her taking in their shapes.
She slowly puts it together, and I see her jaw tense at the realization.
Her throat bobs before she finally meets my eyes again, the worry replaced by something I can’t name.
“You let somebody do this?”
Her voice is low now, dangerous, almost. She curls her fingers inward slightly and swallows again.
I can see her fight herself, reining herself in, and suddenly I feel my hackles rising.
Those bruises wouldn’t exist if she’d spoken to me like a normal person, instead of treating me like a problem to handle.
“Yes, Doctor Durand,” I sneer, clenching my teeth. “I did.”
She tenses, and I instantly regret the low blow, but instead of backing down and telling her that, the words keep tumbling out.
“I wanted them to.”
Her eyes flash, and now her hands are balled into fists. She inhales slowly and controlled before speaking again.
“You wanted them to?” she repeats slowly, the disbelief palpable.
“Ye—”
“Why? Why would you do that?” she exclaims suddenly, her voice biting.
The lines on her face deepen as the accusation hits me in the chest, and I stumble back against the wall. Cat instantly steps forward into my space, and my breath catches behind my ribs. Her eyes bore into mine.
“Why? Why would you hurt yourself like that?”
“Why do you care?” I hurl at her, and she flinches.
She is close enough for me to see her eyes flick rapidly from left to right and to hear her breathing hitch.
“Don’t you see?”
Her accent is thick, her voice breaking on the words. We are both breathing heavily now, and I feel my body buzz. Maybe from the adrenaline, maybe because she is so fucking close to me.
I shake my head, unable to form words. The air leaves her in a low, hard gush. She reaches for me, clutching at the fabric of my top, the desperate look in her eyes shaking me to my core.
“Maria…” she protests, but it’s not enough.
“Say it.”
I don’t recognize my own voice. Not the tone, the pitch, the rhythm. But my words seem to land.
“Don’t…” Her objection is weak. There is no heat behind it.
Her breath ghosts over my skin, and I frown slightly. She is so close, but until she tells me, she also feels miles away.
Her fingers hold the fabric even tighter, and she pulls me flush against her.
I gasp and go rigid when her hand comes up to cup my jaw, and I put my hands against her chest to keep her at a distance.
My eyes brim. She smells like jasmine and warm summer evenings, and I want nothing more than to melt into her.
I want it so badly that my arms shake, and my breath stutters against her collarbone.
Catherine inhales shakily at that but refuses to look away or step away.
Her gaze only dips to my lips once, and I feel butterflies swoop through my stomach.
What kind of magic is this? Why does she have such a strong pull on you?
“Please, Catherine…” I plead, my voice breaking.
“Because I’m falling for you, Maria.”
The words quickly tumble out of her, as if they are finally spilling over. Her eyebrows knit together while she searches my face, and I can feel her heart race under my fingers. But still, she lifts her hand toward my cheek and cups it.
“Because I am scared.”
The words come out clean and simple. There is no hesitation, not a shred of shame. Just the truth.
“Not just because of my career,” she continues as she keeps holding my gaze, “but because of what this could possibly be.”
“Okay…”
“I could rationalize this away. Call it proximity, adrenaline, projection…”
I swallow hard when she checks to see that I am still with her and dips her chin slightly before she continues.
“I could push this away until it fades.” Her voice trembles slightly, and for the first time since she started speaking, she drops her gaze. “But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to pretend this is nothing.”
She looks up at me again, her dark eyes taking me in from under thick eyelashes. I can barely breathe, barely keep standing. I hear my blood roar in my ears, and feel my chest constrict with anticipation.
“Not when I feel like this could be everything,” Cat adds softly.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, about us. About how right this feels. And that… that scares me.”
Cat raises her eyes, a soft frown creasing her brow, and her vulnerability becomes palpable. Her confession rattles my system, hitting every single bone in my body. It is almost enough to make me pull her closer, but I can’t. Not yet.
“What are you scared of?” I ask softly, curling my fingers around her wrist. “Do you fear how people will respond?”
She lets her gaze linger on my hand, and her cheeks color slightly before she swallows, rolls her shoulders back, and shakes her head.
“No, they are irrelevant.”
Her eyes flick away for a second, but then find mine again. Determined now.
“I’ve never felt this pull toward anyone before, Maria. I don’t know how to…” She gestures between us, the crease between her eyebrows deepening. “How to do this.”
I smile carefully at her.
“Who says you need to know it all? Maybe this is something we need to figure out together.”
The crease smooths out, and she nods.
“Yes, maybe it is.” Simple.
She smiles, and the press of her hand against my cheek becomes just a little more tender. My heartbeat slows down at the caress, and I find myself smiling back when the faint metallic click of a spyhole shutter snaps through the hallway.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.
Phill is at it again. That old bugger seriously gives me the creeps. I glance at my door and nod toward it.
“Care to come in?”
Cat lets her gaze glide over the door opposite mine, and the click sounds again. She frowns and lifts her chin. She keeps her eyes on the door a beat longer before slowly turning her head toward me, her gaze following last. She nods once, in understanding.
“I’d prefer that, yes.”
I let her into my apartment, kick off my shoes, and then casually walk over to the kitchen to put away the groceries while she takes in the surroundings. She is actually here in my home, and I am not sure how to feel about it.
There is something so intimate about the way her fingers caress the spines of my books, the way her eyes roam over the pencil drawing on the wall, and the way she stops to stare out of the window for a few beats.
As if up until this moment, she had only skirted around my life, and now she has fully stepped into it. But did she?
“Cat,” I say softly, and she hums before turning to face me. “What happens now?”
She runs her hands over her slacks and takes a moment before she answers. Carefully, deliberately.
“Usually, people go on a few dates. They see if they are a good match, and if there is more between them than just physical attraction.”
I chuckle.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh. What did you mean?”
“You can’t hide me like a dirty little secret. If that is what I am to you—”
“You’re not. Dios, Maria, you are not.”
I bite my lip as she extends her hand toward me in offering. I tremble a little but step forward to let my fingers slide into her palm. Catherine instantly pulls me closer to her.
“Look at me.”
I do. Of course I do.
“I discarded you because I was afraid. I was overwhelmed, and felt cornered, but that is no excuse for what I did. Your feelings were hurt, and for that, I apologize. But from here on out, I will no longer treat you as disposable or as a secret.”
“Good.” I mean for it to sound self-assured, but instead it comes out hoarsely. “Because I am neither.”
She shakes her head, brushing her thumb against the inside of my wrist.
“You are neither.”
The air around me suddenly feels too thin, and the room feels too small. It is as if a dozen tiny fingers run up my spine, and I have to fight the urge to shudder. But Cat?
Soft lines appear around her eyes as she smiles carefully and lifts her hand toward my jaw in a silent question. I nod, unable to speak due to the sudden lump in my throat, and she gently wraps her slender fingers around the back of my neck.
“And I no longer want to treat this like it is nothing either.” She pauses and looks at me.
“But if we are going to do this…” She squeezes gently, and I can’t help but smile.
“I want us to be all in. Both of us. No doubts. No questions. No…” Her eyes trail down to my neck and darken slightly. “No destructive behavior.”
I swallow hard but nod.
“I want that too.”
“I know.”
Of course she does.
I let my gaze glide over her face, and I take in the curve of her lips, the slope of her nose, the way her eyes flick back and forth between my face and my neck. She doesn’t have to say it, it’s evident on her face.
“You really hate them, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“They didn’t hurt. Not really.”
“The contusions mean there is—”
I shake my head.
“Why do you hate them?”
“Because somebody else touched you.”
We both freeze at those words. Her eyes widen, but I feel myself go still.
Her voice didn’t have that edge of jealousy or possession.
It was thin, fragile… scared. A muscle in her jaw twitches, but she refuses to look away.
And just like that, the bruises matter. They don’t hurt me, but they cut her.
“I am here,” I whisper softly, hooking my fingers into the fabric of her coat. “They mean nothing.”
“They are a testament to how I hurt you.”
“They are a testament to a sequence of choices on both sides. Choices that brought us here, into this moment.”
Her eyes brim, and she purses her lips, but nods regardless. I smile and rest my cheek against her hand, closing my eyes. Her scent is so intoxicating that I almost nuzzle against her wrist. Almost.
She stills under my touch, and I open my eyes.
“Cat,” I whisper so quietly it could be an exhale, but her pupils dilate regardless. “Help me give them a new meaning.”
I don’t know where the words come from. Maybe I should still be mad at her, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Not anymore, not after her confession, her apology.
Cat gazes back at me, her eyes dark and her lips slightly parted.
“Maria…” she breathes unevenly.
My own breath hitches as she steps closer and gently guides me until my back hits the wall—one hand at the back of my neck, the other resting on my hip. She presses her forehead against mine, and her chest heaves as we stay there, pressed together. When she speaks, her voice is raw.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
I nod, unable to form words. But I don’t have to. She hears me. Her lips hover above mine long enough for me to pull back, but when I don’t, they finally crash into mine. Not careful or controlled. Desperate.
Cat kisses me as if she has been holding her breath for days.
As if I am all she needs, and maybe I am.
She tastes like coffee and caramel, and when her tongue slips into my mouth, it is like we’ve done this a dozen times before.
As if she knows the contours of my lips, and hers belong pressed against mine.
I moan into her mouth. She instantly curls her fingers in reply, and another whimper follows. I am drowning in her taste, her smell, and that feeling of protection and safety. Cat is everywhere. I want her to be everywhere. Which is why this has to stop.
I pull away, and she instantly looks at me, dazed and confused. Her lips are still parted, her pupils blown, and her breathing ragged. So is mine.
Cat frowns, hesitating. I feel her move away, but I grab her hand and I let out a huffed laugh. I close my eyes and calm my breathing, until I can manage to look at her again.
“Wow.”