Chapter 16 - Mary
Mary
For the first time this week, my fingers dart over the keyboard almost as fast as I can think.
The story has been brewing in my subconscious the whole time that I’ve been busy trying not to think of Cat.
It is as if something has opened up and the words pour onto the screen.
It’s just letters, but my mind sees something completely different.
The slick moss is damp and cool under my feet and covers most of the dark soil.
I am hidden among the trees and stare in awe at three crouching figures in the darkness who don’t seem to understand how to take advantage of the densely packed forest. There is a pull from the real world, but the sharp cry of a falcon, somewhere high in the sky, sings through my body as if I belong in this one.
It feels like a tether, anchoring me to the story.
Thick fur brushes my legs, and I look down to see golden eyes peering at the figures.
The wolf stands at my side, its lip curled into a snarl and its belly low to the ground.
It knows that I am there, but only as a witness.
It makes a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through my chest and spreads through the trees. The figures freeze as—
A loud buzz startles me back into reality.
I yelp softly and glare angrily at my phone.
The screen dims as if it immediately wants to end its insult, and I grab the device to turn it off.
The screen comes back to life when I touch it, showing a message from Cat.
I smile, all my anger suddenly evaporates, and think about last night.
About the warmth of her hand holding mine, the way I seemed to fit perfectly in her arms, and the shape and taste of her gorgeous lips… My thumb flicks upward to open it.
06:18 p.m. – Katherina
Hey
06:18 p.m. – Katherina
Are you home?
I stare at the messages and blink. Something feels off about them, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Cat doesn’t seem like someone who would randomly type ‘hey.’ She is much more composed than that, isn’t she? Or am I being biased? Not that it matters. She asked me a question.
06:23 p.m. – Mary Mary
Hey, you. Yes, I am. Just writing a bit.
I hesitate, and my heart starts beating a bit faster, but then my thumbs flick over the screen, and I send another message before I can stop myself.
06:23 p.m. – Mary Mary
Wanna come over?
The reply is almost instant. It comes so fast that I wonder how she even typed it at all.
06:23 p.m. – Katherina
Lo siento, I did not realize.
06:23 p.m. – Katherina
I didn’t mean to bother you. Enjoy your writing.
I blink once, twice, three times. Fast, confused. I scroll back up to check my message, but there is nothing in there that suggests that she is bothering me. Is there?
06:24 p.m. – Mary Mary
You aren’t. Are you okay?
06:24 p.m. – Katherina
Did you mean it? When you asked if I wanted to come over?
06:24 p.m. – Mary Mary
Yes.
I frown again. What is going on?
06:25 p.m. – Katherina
I am off in thirty, if nothing happens.
06:25 p.m. – Mary Mary
Door is open, no matter the time.
06:25 p.m. – Katherina
Literally or figuratively?
I snort because I can almost see her frown at the screen. Of course she’d ask that.
06:27 p.m. – Mary Mary
Figuratively.
06:27 p.m. – Katherina
Okay, good, because we still have to talk about Phill.
06:28 p.m. – Katherina
I’ll be there asap.
My smile turns into a surprised huff, and for a moment, I am not sure what to think. A blush creeps up my neck because of her protectiveness, but my stomach twists at the same time. Not because I don’t want it, but because of how much I do.
I frown at myself, almost angry. I don’t need her to watch over me.
I’ve been taking care of myself for years.
So why does it feel so good that she takes charge, not even leaving room for discussion?
I know I shouldn’t accept it. I’ve worked too hard and too long to get to where I am.
Years of relearning how to trust myself and be confident in who I am as a person.
Yet one word from the good doctor, and my heart flutters in my chest at the thought of hiding in her arms.
I drop my face into my hands and let out a frustrated groan.
What is she doing to me? She isn’t doing anything wrong.
It’s just who she is. Who she has to be.
Cat commands operating rooms. Every decision she makes matters.
Every choice is made under pressure. The pressure of unwanted outcomes, lack of time, and miscalculations.
She can’t leave things up to chance. I understand that perfectly well.
And I also understand that it’s hard to turn that off, especially when it’s such an integral part of your daily survival.
But that’s her. It explains her. It doesn’t say a thing about why I am okay with this.
I am not in her OR, and I am not some meek woman who nods yes at everything and accepts things at face value either.
I’ve walked away from people wanting to control my every move before.
What makes Cat any different? Because with her, it’s not about control, you idiot. It’s about protection.
I let out another groan and stare at the screen. There is no use fighting these thoughts. It’s the simple truth. For the first time in my life, I feel sheltered. And that feeling is pretty damn addictive.
A soft knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I blink hard.
My eyes drop to the clock on my screen as I push myself out of the chair.
Ten past seven. Forty minutes have passed while I’ve been staring into space instead of writing.
I should be angry about that too, but my stomach flips in anticipation as I move toward the door.
“Maria?”
My cheeks warm up at her voice, and I rush to open the door. I beam when I pull it toward me, but my smile falters almost immediately. Cat’s shoulders droop forward, strands of hair have escaped her tight chignon, and the look in her eyes is so desolate that I clutch my chest at the sight.
“Cat…” I breathe, unable to ask her what happened.
I want to know, of course I do, but she looks like she has been through hell and back. Perhaps she wants to talk about it. Perhaps she came here to forget. I don’t know. All I know is that she is here with me and that she is looking for answers I don’t even know I have.
My stomach twists for a completely different reason now, and whatever blush was on my cheeks rapidly drains from them. I swallow hard as she lifts her eyes to meet mine. Cat tilts her chin slightly and lets out a soft breath through her nose.
“Hey.” It’s almost casual.
She leaves plenty of room for me to say it back.
To choose the direction in which I want to take this.
A strained smile tugs at her lips, but her eyes stay on mine, filled with an emotion I can’t yet name.
Her fingers are curled inward, and there is a slight tremor in her hands.
Cat is here because she needs something from me, because she needs a place away from the hospital.
“Come here,” I whisper, my voice breaking on the words, and I open my arms.
Cat’s eyes narrow for a beat, and a soft crease forms between her eyebrows.
Her lips purse so quickly that I almost miss it, but it is there.
Her fingers curl even further, and I wonder if she is fighting herself.
Her eyes flicker over my face, and she opens her mouth, but instead of the objection I expect, she lets out a soft sigh and steps forward into my embrace—the sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic surrounding us.
I wrap my arms around her and hold her gently.
She tenses and curls her fingers into the fabric of my shirt before she presses herself fully against me.
She still holds on to that tension, but I can feel her opening the door to siphon it out.
I bring my hand up to cradle the back of her head and rub soft circles on her shoulder with my other one.
Her jaw lands on my shoulder, and I press my cheek against hers.
She hums, and I feel her soft lashes flutter against my skin as she closes her eyes.
We stand like that until Cat’s body becomes less rigid and her fingers slowly start to uncurl.
She sighs again, letting out a trembling breath, and her body finally slackens.
I feel her swallow before she tentatively leans back.
She looks so tired, so defeated... My hand instantly comes up to brush her jaw, and she closes her eyes at the brief contact.
“Come,” I whisper as I take her hand and guide her inside.
She follows me to the couch and sinks down as soon as I gesture to it, dropping her face into her hands. I gently brush her shoulder with my fingertips before I turn toward my small kitchen.
“Have you eaten?”
Cat lets out a noncommittal sound that lands somewhere between a grunt and a groan.
It tugs at the corners of my lips. If she weren’t clearly feeling like shit, I would give her hell for this.
But instead, I smile and grab a cup of noodles.
It isn’t ideal, but it will be warm and salty, which makes it perfect comfort food.
When I place the noodles and a glass of water in front of her, her head whips up. Her eyebrows crinkle together, and her chest heaves once. Then her gaze finds mine as she stares at me in disbelief.
“You… you made me dinner?”
I let out a soft laugh.
“I warmed up some noodles. Don’t insult my cooking skills.”
She smiles at that, small but real. Thank God, it’s real. I sink down next to her and nudge her knee while nodding at the food.
“Go on, then, before it gets cold.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
Cat reaches for the chopsticks, but halfway through the motion, it seems as if her brain stutters.
Her hand freezes midair, and her eyes glaze over.
I feel my heart pound as she stares into nothing.
What the hell do I do? Everything in me screams not to ask her what happened, but I need her to open up.
I can’t have her think she is alone. Not when she’s right here next to me.
“Cat?”
My voice is soft but startles her regardless. Her shoulders pull up with a small jolt before she blinks and picks up the utensils like nothing happened.
“Cat?” I try again, and this time she does turn to face me, her eyes almost pleading.
“Talk to me?”
She is silent for a long time, and her suddenly sharp eyes are trained on me. I see the muscle in her jaw move under her golden skin, and I hear her slowly draw in a deep breath as if she is trying to ground herself.
“Rough day,” she croaks and tries to return to the noodles.
Tries, but she is shaking so hard that the chopsticks rattle in her hands.
“Hey… hey,” I let out as my hands reach for hers.
I slide closer and place my fingers gently on hers as I carefully take the sticks and place them back on the table. Her knee brushes against mine. She stares at it, but she is miles away. What do I do?
Carefully, I brush one of the loose strands of hair back, and Cat shudders under my touch. She blinks hard, and her eyes find mine. I feel my chest constrict as she starts to shake all over, and I pull her against me before I can stop myself.
“I lost her. She was only seven, and I lost her.”