Page 45 of Sweet Heart

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.