Page 196 of True Blue

I was halfway out of bed before she grabbed my arm and shoved me back down. “Can we go get your stuff now?!”

“Teddy,” she laughed, shoving at my chest before straddling me. “We’re naked.”

My hands went to her hip and squeezed. I didn’t see the issue in her words.

“That’s not a no!”

Indie giggled, and I leaned down to catch the sound with my mouth. Her hand slid into my hair, and mine cradled her face to keep her there for a few more seconds.

“Let’s go after breakfast tomorrow,” she said when she finally pulled back, holding out her pinky. “Deal?”

Smiling like an idiot, I hooked my pinky around hers.

“Deal.”

And now she’s home.

The banging outside makes me smile. The roof is finally getting done, the last major project before the house is officially finished. The exterior has been painted a darker blue, the porch sanded and stained, the railings reinforced, and the stone path leading to the front door redone so Indie won’t trip on the uneven stones when she trudges home after long shifts.

The inside of the house has completely transformed into a home.

An eclectic mix of new and old decorations and furniture that just feels us decidedly. The front sitting room was originally supposed to become a reading room for her, but Indie asked if she could take over that space herself and turn it into a surprise. I’ve given her free rein and am curious about what she'll make of it.

Nights are quiet in the most wonderful way. Sometimes I cook before she gets home, and when she walks in around seven-thirty, tired and beautiful in her scrubs, I kiss her hello and send her upstairs to shower or take a bath if the day was bad. I’m so damn glad I got the clawfoot tub for her.

Then we’ll either eat dinner at the kitchen island together or in front of the television watching our favorite shows or movies. I’ll get a fire going in our big fireplace, and after we clean up our meal, we’ll cuddle together on the couch, both under a thick blanket, Indie under my arm, her head against my chest.

And I’ll close my eyes and feel so grateful for the opportunity to prove myself to Indie.

To get a second chance.

And sometimes I feel like I’ll hear Nana’s laughter through the house, especially when we play one of her records, and I’ll pull Indie into my arms, both of us singing along to ABBA or Fleetwood Mac or CCR.

Life is perfect.

My smile widens as I hear the front door close—though my brow furrows when it closes a little more forcefully than normal.

Poor Indie. She must have had a bad day.

I wipe my hands on my jeans as I step out of the office. I’m already thinking about dinner, about running her a bath, about taking her to get ice cream even though it’s freezing out. Just to make her smile.

“Hi, baby…” I say, but pause when I finally see her.

Indie is just standing in the middle of the foyer, one hand still on her backpack, eyes staring into space. Tears are leaking down her cheeks. Her mouth is trembling, but she is holding it closed so tightly her lips look white.

And her face is a brutal mix of anger and devastation.

“Honey?” I ask, rushing toward her. My hands are cradling her face and her eyes raise to mine. The emptiness in them turns my blood cold. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’ve been suspended without pay,” she says, her voice flat. “Pending investigation…”

My heart stops. The words don’t make sense and sound like they’re in another language.

“What?” I whisper.

“I’m under investigation,” she says, and her voice is flat in a way that scares me more than if she were screaming. “Bluewater’s ethics and credentialing board received a formal complaint from Hyde Cancer Center. There’s also a report being filed with Chicago’s state medical board.”

“For what?”