Undeniably Enemies: Chapter 26

The power few of us realize we have is looking around despite previous failures or heartbreaks and saying, wow, there are so many things in this world I can do. It’s a dare to the universe. A try and stop me. It’s courage and determination. It’s grit and resiliency.

Instead, most of us use those previous failures and heartbreaks as food to feed our demons and insecurities. You know those fuckers. The ones who tell you you’re not good enough or smart enough or you’ll never make your dream a reality. Let’s face it, chasing that is scary as fuck, and if you don’t try, then you can’t fail, and you won’t have to feel that crushing defeat all over again. I mean, that shit is daunting and terrifying, and it’s much easier to allow the world to cripple us, right?

I have my reasons for being nervous and allowing stupid thoughts to trickle into my head as I sit alone in a conference room at the head of an intimidatingly large oval table. I’m waiting for the board and Callan to arrive, trying not to fidget or even get my hopes up. More than that, I’m trying to talk myself into this position, which feels odd for me. Ambition isn’t something I’ve ever lacked.

But if I’m not chief, if I’m simply an attending, what does that do to my life? Or more importantly, what does that do for my potential with my too-pretty and too-perfect-to-be-ignored neighbor and student? I’d still be her boss in a way, and there is a hierarchy, but it’s not the same as chief to intern. It’s just not. That’s pretty much a forbidden no-go any way you slice it.

As the board walks in, I have to remind myself that it doesn’t matter if I’m her boss or not. Wren doesn’t want me that way. She told me so. She’s not looking for a relationship with me, and I’d be a fucking fool not to take this shot. I can’t not take this shot. It’s not who I am.

Slowly everyone greets me, and I put the girl to the back of my mind and get my game face on. I smile and shake all their hands. I joke and shoot the shit before we get down to it. I’m impassioned. I’m honest. I hold nothing back. I give this interview my all and when I walk out of there, I know that I left my blood, sweat, and tears on the field—or in the boardroom—as always. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.

But as I make my way down to the ER, I’m feeling an uncomfortable and unfamiliar twist in my gut. I can’t even fully describe what it is. I just know it’s not good. And when I catch a flash of a blonde ponytail crossing the hall, I know it’s the notion that I just potentially gave her up for good. I take a moment to let that sink in, and when I do, nothing feels right.

My scrubs are uncomfortable and scratchy. My skin cold and tight.

Last night with her… I want last night to be every night with her. I want last weekend to be every weekend with her. But that’s not an option, right? I mean, it’s not, is it?

I stare at the hall she’s no longer in and wonder what would Wren Fritz do if I told her I was in love with her?

“Jack, we have a VIP coming in, and you’re the one attending here today who can take her. It’ll just be you and me, and we need to keep this quiet.”

I spin to find Margot with her phone in her hand, and I tilt my head. “Why? What’s going on?”

Margot glances around and nods for me to follow her a bit so no one overhears us. “It’s Octavia Fritz.”

“What?” That instantly gets my heart going. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

Octavia Abbot-Fritz is the matriarch of the Fritz family. The reigning queen of Boston, and that is no exaggeration. She’s also ninety-one years old.

“I don’t know the details. I just know she fell.”

“Shit,” I hiss. Half of her family, children and grandchildren, work in this hospital. Hell, didn’t I just see Wren walk down the hall? Thankfully, Sorel and Layla aren’t here today. “Does she need a trauma room?”

Margo shakes her head, her brown curls swinging with it. “No, but I don’t know the extent of the fall or her full injuries.”

“Let’s prep one of the isolation rooms then. They’re big and separated from the rest of the ER.”

“Good call. Plus, they’re near the back ambulance bay, and that’s where they’re bringing her in.”

“She’s coming by ambulance? It’ll be everywhere in five minutes.”

Margot smirks. “Their chief of security made the paramedics all sign NDAs and took their phones until after she’s out of their rig.”

I laugh. “Smart man. Let’s get this going before she arrives. You know Wren is here.”

“I do, and Rina is upstairs along with Katy, Keegan, Carter, Grace, and Oliver.” Oliver is Keegan’s dad and the youngest Fritz son. He’s actually one of the people Owen was named after since he’s best friends with Owen’s mother, Grace. Speaking of Owen…

“Shit. They’re all going to kick my ass when they realize I’m hiding their mother and grandmother here.”

“You and me both. But we have no choice, and I won’t let Dr. Marshall take her, so let’s do it.”

Margot and I prep the room and decide to keep it between just us. No aides or techs to help us out. At least not until we know what’s going on and know her wishes. Ten minutes later, the ambulance pulls in, and we tell everyone we’ve got it and to back off. They do, and we wheel Octavia, who greets me with a smile and a “Hello, Jack, dear,” into the room.

She has a cut on her cheek, one on her forehead, and an obvious wrist fracture. She’s also alone, which I don’t like.

“Mrs. Fritz, where’s your security, and where is Dr. Fritz?”

Dr. Fritz, meaning her husband.

She waves that away with her good hand. “It’s Octavia, dear. You know that. Certainly, we can skip the formalities. I haven’t told Dr. Fritz I’m here yet, and I wouldn’t let security join me. It draws too many eyes.”

Christ. This is going to be a shit show.

Margot throws me a side-eye, clearly having the same thought as me.

“Octavia, can I help you get changed into a gown so we can examine you better?”

“Of course. Thank you, darling girl.” She pats Margot on the cheek as she shifts ever so slightly on the gurney so she can sit up more. She has blood on her pink cashmere sweater, and her cheek is already swollen. “I’m so grateful both of you are here.”

“Can you tell us what happened?” I ask.

“It was silly, really. I just missed the last step coming down the stairs and fell on my wrist. That’s all. No one needs to be bothered with this.”

I throw her a look because I’ve known this woman my entire life, and she’s no fool. Not by a mile. “Wren is down here.”

“As your medical student, she must be impossibly busy tending to her patients.”

“And everyone else upstairs?” Margot questions.

“I’m sure it’s no different for them.”

I raise an eyebrow at her, but I can’t argue with her. It’s Octavia. “Fine,” I grumble. “Margot, can you please help her get changed? Octavia, I’m going to get the portable X-ray machine, but I’m going to want a CT of your head.”

“Whatever for? I didn’t lose consciousness. I simply scraped up my face. I’m at Mass General Hospital being taken care of by Margot Albright and Jack Kincaid. Besides, it was just a silly little slip. Hardly a fall at all.”

“You have a broken wrist,” Margot deadpans, “and likely need stitches on your face.”

“Better than breaking a hip,” she throws back at us.

Touché.

“Fine. I’ll be back.” Already lamenting how this woman is running the show but also loving her for it, I make my way down the hall while Margot helps her get changed. The woman is wearing designer clothes that likely cost more than I earn in a year, and they’re covered in blood and are now trash.

I grab the X-ray machine and send Wynter Reyes—Mason’s mother—a text. She’s an orthopedic surgeon for the Rebels, but she’s also technically still part of the ortho practice here at the hospital, and I can tell by the way Octavia’s wrist is sitting, she’s likely going to need surgery.

Just as I’m wheeling the portable X-ray machine down the hall and get it right in front of Octavia’s room, Wren stops me. She looks around, thinking we’re alone, and shit, this is not the time for a chat.

“Hey, I was wondering if we could talk about last night?”

Shock hits me in the chest, and I forget almost everything else but the stunning blonde before me. “What about it?”

She smiles in just such a way, and it hits me like a bullet to the chest. “I know you went for your interview today, and I heard it went well.”

That has me shifting in and hovering over her. “How did you hear that?” Then I laugh at my dumb question. “Layla.” Because Callan talked to her.

Wren thumps my chest. “Bingo. So, if you’re chief, I know you’ll be on the team to help with match placement.”

A slow smirk curls up my lips. “You wouldn’t be trying to seduce me in order to get me to place you here, would you?”

“What?” She looks appalled. “Of course not.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping you were about to play Let’s Make a Deal with me.”

She smacks my chest when she sees I’m kidding. “Very funny.” Her hand doesn’t leave my chest, and her touch is like fire in the best of ways, warm and enticing. She glances up at me through her lashes. “We’re not doing it again, and by that, I mean no more texts at all. I hope you get chief. And I’m not being a bitch or sarcastic. I mean it. I hope you get it because you deserve it, but I don’t want to mess that up for you, and that’s exactly what anything between us would do. I also want to match here. And in truth, you know I had a crush on you growing up and I’ll admit, it was a pretty big one. I’m afraid I’ll start to like you again if this thing between us continues.”

“And that would be bad,” I surmise, even if that’s the worst and best thing to hear.

“That would be bad. For both of us.”

“Right.” I swallow and try not to shift or let her see my disappointment. “I already know this, Wren. We talked about that before.”

“Yes, but then last night happened.”

“It did.”

And I don’t—and won’t—regret it.

“I don’t want you to text me again, and I won’t text you. I don’t want to think about you that way, and I don’t want to know you’re thinking about me like that either. I’m not saying we hate each other again, but I think being civil and distant is the best way to do this with us.”

She’s right. It’s the same dance we keep doing. We have these moments, these intense, crazy, all-consuming moments, and then we have to remind each other that we can’t have them and force ourselves to take a step back. But this isn’t just a step back. This is her closing the door once and for all.

I gulp, feeling like I’m being pulverized. Last night was… everything. Just as last weekend was.

Without caring, I lean in and kiss her. Because she’s telling me it’s the last time, and I can’t go the rest of my life without kissing her again. My hand slides up her face and into her hair, and I hold her against me, parting her lips and slipping my tongue into her mouth. I kiss her and kiss her and never want to stop. I want to kiss her always, and who cares about being chief when Wren’s kisses feel like this?

Like my heart is being pieced back together and made whole again when it was my understanding that anything that breaks could never be whole again. It always has cracks, places the glue cannot fully mend. She’s proving that wrong, and from the moment I accepted that I love her, nothing else seems to matter to me but her.

Except she’s starting her career, and I’m trying to climb the ladder of mine.

It’s so easy for her to say goodbye to me, and for me, it’s the fight of my life.

A point she proves when her hands on my chest push me back and her cheeks tint rose as she looks around.

I don’t have to, though. “No one saw us.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because I needed to taste you one last time so I wouldn’t forget, and I’ll always get it right anytime I allow myself to remember how your kisses feel.”

Emotion flashes across her face. “What are you trying to do to me, Jack? It was better between us when it was hate.”

Not love. She doesn’t say it, but the words are there, hovering between us.

“I’m not sure it was ever hate for me, Cinderella. Not really anyway. I’m hoping we can be friends.”

“Friends,” she repeats, testing the word.

“Yes. Friends. You know what those are. I think we can do it.”

She smirks. “Maybe.”

I’m going to take that as a yes. “Whether I make chief or not, you’ll match here. And I won’t knock on your door or text you for more than what we can have again. I can all but promise you both.” I square my shoulders and take a step back, forcing her hands to fall. “You’ve got patients to see, Miss Fritz.”

Her blue eyes hold mine and then she’s gone, and I can breathe again only I can’t because she took my breath with her.

“Oh good, you’ve got the X-ray,” Margot says, rounding the other corner. “I got everything we’re going to need to clean up her facial lacs and suture them once we make sure there’s no facial fracture. I offered for plastics to come, but she told me she’s ninety-one, and plastics isn’t giving her a facelift, so what’s the point?”

I chuckle, needing that bit of comic relief more than anything in the world.

“God, I love that woman.”

“Me too. So let’s help her because her wrist is going to need surgery.”

“I already texted Wynter.”

Margot smiles. “Good call.”

We slide open the door to Octavia’s room and get her X-rayed and sutured. She’s a good patient and asks us about our lives in that grandmotherly way as we try not to hurt her more than she’s already hurt. She refuses pain meds, but she has to be in pain, though you’d never know it.

Wynter tells me she’s on her way, and I send her a copy of the wrist X-ray.

I read my message from her and drag a stool over to the side of her gurney. “Wynter just told me she’s clearing the OR for your wrist. May I please call Dr. Fritz or anyone else to be with you?”

“I already called Dr. Fritz. He’s traveling in France as a keynote speaker at a conference, but he’s going to fly home tonight.”

I take her good hand. “Someone local then? Please, Octavia.”

“Your sister makes my grandson and great-granddaughter very happy.”

I smile. “She does. They make her very happy. It’s why Owen’s allowed to live.”

She laughs lightly, her blonde bob swaying around her shoulders and still perfect despite the day she’s had. “You were very upset that night.”

I frown, thinking back to that night last year at Children’s when Willow was having an emergency surgery, and I found out Estlin and Owen were screwing around with each other behind my back. “I was. I apologize you had to see that side of me.”

“People of honor have difficulty tolerating less than that in others, especially in those they love. But there’s nothing we value more than love, and it makes ordinarily honorable people do less than honorable things.”

Fuck if she didn’t just take the wind from my sails.

“Yes.” Because that’s all I’ve got.

“Now they’re happy, and you’re happy for them. Not a very difficult thing to be when you love people.”

“Yes,” I repeat a bit warily this time, wondering what she’s getting at.

“I’m sure Owen would feel the same way.”

I squint, my eyebrows furrowing. “Pardon?”

“Would you be a dear and let Wren off early from her shift? I wouldn’t mind some company, and she’s very good at alerting the troops without overdramatizing things.”

I stand. “Of course. Is there anything else you need? Anything I can do?”

“No. I’m fine. Thank you, Jack. You’ve taken the best possible care of me.”

I give her a gentle hug. “Same to you, Octavia. You’ve taken the best possible care of all of us.”

I leave Octavia’s room and have Margot tell Wren so I don’t have to talk to her again. Then I text Owen and Stone to let them know. I have no doubt the entire Fritz family will descend on this hospital tonight. A point proven when they text me to say they’re all on their way. I stick around and join them in the surgical waiting room. And though I don’t talk to her, I don’t blatantly ignore Wren either. I simply give her the space she requested.

She said goodbye. It’s time I finally listen.