LA: Loyalty Or Annilation

Chapter 15

Kristal's POV

Three months later...

I'm alive.

Not just breathing, working, eating and sleeping.

Actually alive.

And I'm almost afraid to acknowledge why.

Things have been... good.

Suspiciously good.

The kind of good that makes a woman who's recently had her entire romantic history exposed as a five-year lie look around and wonder what fresh bullshit the universe is preparing.

But so far?

Nothing.

I work.

I go home.

I attend therapy twice a week.

I call Mom regularly, and she gives me the appropriate amount of maternal interrogation disguised as casual conversation. I keep up with my friends back home too, updating them on work, Los Angeles, whatever ridiculous hobby I've attempted that week, and anything else worth sharing.

Nobody mentions you-know-who.

Thank.

GOD.

That works out—

PERFECTLY.

I don't ask about him.

They don't bring him up.

His name has slowly stopped being something that automatically changes the atmosphere.

That's progress.

When I'm not exhausted from a rough shift, I've continued trying new things. Painting is still in rotation, although I'm fairly certain actual artists would classify half my work as a crime against canvas.

I've tried pottery.

Cooking classes.

A dance class that taught me two important things: my hips still work, and my knees occasionally disagree with them.

And then there's—

No.

I'm not calling him a hobby.

That's disrespectful.

Dr. Kenny Davidson has somehow become a regular part of my life without either of us officially deciding that he should be.

Dinner occasionally.

Lunch when our schedules align.

Milkshakes.

Coffee.

Once, breakfast after a brutal overnight shift when he decided that I looked "two minutes away from committing a felony for pancakes."

He wasn't wrong.

People at the clinic have started noticing.

Of course they have.

Maya notices everything.

Marcus has caught Kenny bringing me coffee twice.

One of the trainees nearly walked into a wall because she was too busy watching him lean over my shoulder while I reviewed a chart.

Yet nobody says anything to me.

Thank GOD again.

I don't need an audience.

Especially because I don't even know what this is.

Kenny hasn't pushed.

That's probably why I've kept saying yes.

He'll touch the small of my back when passing behind me. Sometimes our hands brush and his fingers linger just long enough for me to notice.

And when he stands close...

Lord.

That man's body heat should be medically investigated.

Then there's the sniffing.

Yes.

Sniffing.

Subtle.

Very subtle.

He'll lean close to look at something I'm holding, and I'll catch the tiniest inhale near my hair.

The first time, I ignored it.

The second time, I thought I imagined it.

By the fourth?

Sir.

I know what you're doing.

He thinks I haven't noticed.

Please.

I'm a nurse.

Observation is literally part of my job.

I'm supposed to notice when a patient's breathing changes by half a damn rhythm, but somehow I'm not supposed to notice a six-foot-something Greek god smelling my hair?

I roll my eyes.

Greek god.

Really, Kristal?

Unfortunately...

Accurate.

I like him.

There.

I've admitted it.

Silently.

To myself.

Under extreme protest.

I really like Kenny.

The more time we spend together, the worse it gets.

He's funny without trying too hard. Confident without needing to dominate every room. He listens when I speak instead of waiting for his turn to talk.

Most importantly, he hasn't demanded anything from me.

No labels.

No declarations.

No questions about when I'll be ready.

He's simply been there.

And that's exactly what scares me.

Because I'm starting to want him there.

My heart gives an uncomfortable little squeeze.

I stare down at the coffee he left beside my workstation this morning.

My favorite.

Of course he remembers.

My fingers tighten around the cup.

Three months ago, I would've sworn I'd never trust another man enough to let him close.

Now Kenny is close enough that I know the smell of his cologne.

Close enough that I recognize his footsteps.

Close enough that sometimes, when he smiles at me...

I wonder.

What would happen if I stopped being afraid?

My heart immediately shutters.

There it is.

Fear.

Quiet but stubborn.

Because liking someone means giving them access.

Trusting them means handing them pieces of yourself they could use to destroy you.

I already know what that feels like.

So no matter how alive I feel lately, one truth remains.

I'm not afraid of Kenny.

I'm afraid of what I might eventually feel for him.

---

Shawn's POV

Three months.

That's how long it's been since the clinic.

Jade has a noticeable bump now.

And it's f*****g adorable.

Every morning, I touch it before I get out of bed.

Every night, I talk to our baby before we go to sleep.

Sometimes in the shower, I'll kneel in front of Jade and talk to her stomach while she laughs—or at least used to laugh—about how our child probably can't understand a damn thing I'm saying.

I don't care.

I talk anyway.

I tell the baby about my day.

Promise I'm going to be a good father.

Argue that Daddy should obviously be the first word.

Jade says absolutely not.

Or she used to.

Lately, she mostly watches me with an expression I can't read.

Today, I'm sitting at the end of the couch massaging her feet.

I've been trying.

Really trying.

Since the night we celebrated the pregnancy, I haven't contacted Kristal.

Haven't gone looking for her.

Haven't driven past the clinic.

Haven't manufactured any accidental meetings.

I've put my attention where it belongs.

Home.

My marriage.

Our baby.

Yet Jade's walls haven't completely come down.

Some days are better than others. We'll laugh over dinner or she'll curl against me in bed, and I'll think we're finally getting somewhere.

Then the distance returns.

My phone dings.

I grab it with my left hand while continuing to massage her foot with the other.

Calendar reminder.

"Baby, we have a doctor's appointment at one."

"Okay."

That's it.

I stare at her.

Nothing.

I decide to test something.

"I'm going to go get a girl to be our s*x slave."

"What?"

Her head snaps up.

There she is.

I sigh.

"Baby?"

"Yes?"

"How much longer?"

Her eyebrows pull together.

"What?"

"How much longer are you going to punish me for my mistakes?"

Jade's expression closes immediately.

"I'm not doing anything of the sort."

"Babe."

"What?"

"Seriously?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"No."

"Yes."

"Shawn."

"Jade."

We stare at each other until she looks away.

I release her foot and stand.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out where? For what?"

"To get some air before we say something we can't take back."

"What?"

I turn around.

"Look, Jade, I get it. I'm a f*****g screwup. I know what I did to you."

She crosses her arms.

"But I'm trying to change. I've been working on myself and us since the night we celebrated the pregnancy. I'm here. Mind, body and soul. I pamper you, spoil you, take care of you and love you to death, but some days it feels like none of it matters."

Her mouth parts slightly.

Her eyes begin to shine.

I keep going because if I stop now, we'll bury this for another three months.

"What do I have to do to get back the wife I married?"

The first tear slips down her cheek.

Every instinct tells me to wipe it away.

I don't.

Not yet.

Because I need her answer more than I need to make the conversation comfortable.

"We need therapy, counseling, screaming matches—I don't give a s**t. Something. But you have to let me in."

She inhales slowly.

"I know I hurt you. I know what I did while you were building your career was unforgivable, and I've apologized a million times. I'll apologize another million if that's what you need."

My voice lowers.

"But I can't repair this marriage by myself."

Jade's hand moves over her stomach.

"I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to decide whether you want to work through it with me."

Silence settles between us.

Her thumb moves slowly across the curve of our baby.

When she finally looks at me, something in her expression makes my stomach drop.

Because this isn't anger.

It's fear.

"Okay."

I wait.

She swallows.

"Then answer something for me."

"Anything."

Her eyes stay locked on mine.

"Do you miss her?"

Fuck.

I don't pretend not to understand.

Jade's voice trembles slightly when she asks the rest.

"And are you still in love with Kristal?"

The room goes completely still.

I asked Jade to let me in.

I asked for honesty.

Now she's demanding the same thing from me.

And for the first time in three months...

There's nowhere left to hide.