An update! Thank you all for the lovely replies/feedback! They keep me motivated to write!
11
It's the remnants of his shower that she's met with when she steps into his bedroom. The steam mixed with the earthy smell of his body wash settle around her much like his presence had throughout the night.
She's in search of her phone, not sure where exactly it had ended up in the flurry of last night. The sun is filtering through the blinds across the bed, and she smoothes out the wrinkles in his bedspread. The grey material is soft under her hands and it suits the masculine feel of his room. Sam is a minimalist, she realizes, noticing how everything seems to have a place. There are only two things on his dresser: his cologne and watch.
She's not even sure he has a charger for a phone in here.
On his nightstand are a few photos of Nick from when he was younger, his parents and a blonde woman she's not sure he's ever spoken of.
The door to the bathroom opens and he exits, a towel wrapped around his waist, another wiping along his chin and jaw.
"Hey," he greets gently.
She can tell that he hadn't expected her to be there, and he stands awkwardly in the bathroom doorway. He clutches the towel around his waist a little tighter. As much as she wants to peruse every inch of him, she holds her gaze with his own. "Hey….have you seen my phone?"
"Yeah, it's on the nightstand there…there's a charger tucked in the shelf," He points towards the nightstand, heading towards his closet.
She watches his back as it disappears into his closet, taking in the angular cut of his torso. She can feel the blush creeping up on her, and she shakes her head at herself, biting her lip. She slides her hand across the shelf built into the stand, landing on her phone."…..Thank you for charging it."
Sitting on the bed, she takes a minute to scroll through her messages. Several from Martha urging her to call her. A few from Stephanie, Tara, Ben and Lori. She knows that they're all anxiously waiting for her to return their calls, only she's not sure yet what to say.
He returns from the closet in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt in his hands. "No problem."
Her gaze slides over him involuntarily and she's lost for a minute in the view of him. She's always known that despite his love for caffeine and pasta, his personal fitness is important to him. His chest is defined, his arms and shoulders sculpted. They're not washboard, but his abs are visible and given his age, he looks good.
Really good.
He pulls the t-shirt over his head, and she looks away. Sitting beside her, Sam brushes her hair off her shoulder, letting his hand rub up and down her back gently. "Everything ok?"
"…I've got messages from Martha, Stephanie, Ben and Lori and I'm not sure what to say to them."
"No one is expecting for you to have this all figured out; they'll understand," he reasons gently.
She nods, feeling the tears prick her eyes. His hand is reassuring as it slides up and down her back.
"Cass….talk to me, honey."
Something inside her stirs.
The nickname.
There's no way he would ever know that Jake would call her that. It's overwhelming as much as it causes her heart to swell for Sam. Framing her hands around his face, she presses her lips to his.
"I love you," she breathes.
He kisses her back, before pulling away. "I love you too."
His phone buzzes from his nightstand, and it's a minute before he rises from the bed to answer it.
"Dr. Radford."
She watches the expression change in his face, the way he deflates at whatever news he's just received.
"…I'm not sure what else I can do, Bruce." He rubs his forehead, nodding. "Alright." He hangs up, shaking his head.
"Everything ok?" She echos.
"No, not really….That was the hospital; Amy turned down our offer."
"Sam….." She sighs. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault-"
He cuts her off, shaking his head. "-No, it's not, and I don't want you thinking that you're at all responsible for this." Tossing his phone on the bed, he circles around, heading into the bathroom.
She gives him a minute before following him. He's filling the sink with water preparing to shave and all she can do is wrap her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. He stills, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
"I don't blame you….it just…." He sighs, shrugging. "Happens. We'll find another candidate."
His hand coasts along her arm and he stops at a small spot of inflammation she can't seem to get rid of. He turns in her arms, inspecting it further. "You still have this?"
She looks at the red patch just below her elbow. It isn't any less inflamed than a few days ago. "With everything going on, I forgot about it."
"Do you have any allergies?"
She shakes her head. "No….it's nothing."
Sam gives her a look.
"…but I'll have a doctor look at it."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
He turns back to the sink, lathering his face. "I have to go to the hospital to meet with the board….I know this isn't the best timing…."
She leans into him again, resting her cheek against his back. "It's ok. I have to meet Derek over at Grey House anyway."
He's silent, and she's content to just be next to him as he shaves.
. . . . . . . . . .
"Sign here, and here," Derek points to an x next to a dotted line on the police report laid out on the counter. "You know, we don't have to do this now, Cassie."
Sliding the papers towards her, she glances quickly at them before signing her statement recounting her interactions with Jackson Weld. "It's alright, really."
Derek flips through more pages, showing her where to sign. "There's a lot of paperwork….sign here and here."
Auto pilot kicks in. Derek is explaining each page to her but her focus is on keeping the contents of her stomach from making a violent exit.
Something is not right at Grey House.
"…we've set up a detail outside, and at the Bell Book. It would be best if you switch up your schedule until we can locate Wells."
Brought out of her revere, she looks over at Derek. "You haven't found him?"
He shakes his head. "The room he was renting in Blairsville was cleared out sometime last night. The hotel staff said he never checked out."
Sitting, she leans on the island her face in her hands.
"Cassie…you shouldn't be doing this alone. Can I call Sam?"
"I'm here," Abigail chimes in, breezing into the kitchen. She grabs the kettle from the counter filling it with water before setting it on the stove. "Derek, can all this wait?" She gestures to the papers and files.
"Of course." He quickly gathers them up, tucking them under his arm. "You can come down to the station whenever, Cassie; there's no rush."
"Thank you, Derek," she manages.
"I'll keep you posted." He gives her a reassuring nod, before letting himself out.
Abigail busies herself with making tea, and she slides a mug in front of her as she takes the stool beside her. "Do you want to vomit as much as I do right now?"
"You too?" She takes the tea hoping it will help settle her stomach.
"The minute I stepped through the door. Something's not right, Cassie…..he's done something."
It's something she hasn't wanted to give any more thought to then she already has.
The nausea, dizziness. The overwhelming angry presence she's felt in the wake of his presence.
"He's cursed Grey House," Abigail states. "And until he's found, we can't stay here."
"I know," she agrees softly.
"Look, Brandon and Tara said George can stay with them, and I've found a room at a cute little B&B in Blairsville. There are rooms available if you and Grace want to come with….unless you're going to stay with Sam."
"I can't impose on him like that-"
"-I'd hardly call imposing," Abigail points out. "It's not like he's going to let you out of his sight anyway."
"What do you mean?"
Abigail sighs, finishing her tea. "For someone who is usually so intuitive, you've been off your game the last little while. You clearly didn't notice the look on his face last night."
She doesn't remember much from last night; it's all a blur. "What did it look like?"
"Worried, frantic, distressed, panicked….you take your pick." Sliding off the stool, she moves to put her empty mug into the dishwasher. "Promise me you'll stay safe. This guy gives me bad vibes."
It's the second promise asked of her today. Promises are something she doesn't do; there's too much out of her control. "I promise."
Abigail envelops her into a hug and she welcomes the embrace.
"Don't stay here too long."
. . . . . . . . . .
Main Street is busy as usual, and he maneuvers through the small town traffic. It's nothing compared to traffic in New York, and Sam appreciates the shorter commute to his practice. He slows to a stop at a red light, right outside the Bell, Book and Candle. Unlike the rest of Middleton, it's in darkness.
So is Cassie.
He's seen her come apart at the seams more in the past few weeks than he has since he's moved to Middleton. Her usually optimistic spirit has been tested and her spark dimmed.
She's not herself.
The dizziness, nausea. Migraines and rashes.
The light turns green and he rolls back into traffic, approaching his practice. There's an empty space right out front, and he parks. Grabbing his bag from the back, he climbs out heading inside. The waiting room is empty, and Eve comes from out back, files in hand.
"Dr. Radford! I didn't expect to see you in today."
"I didn't expect to be here…I just have to grab some files from my office."
"…how's Cassie?" She questions tentatively.
He stills, looking for the right words. "How you'd expect."
Eve nods. "Can you tell her that I'm thinking of her? And that if she needs anything, I mean anything at all, to let me know?"
"I will. I'm going to need you to clear my schedule for the next few days and see if Dr. Stanley can cover any of my patients that need immediate care."
"I'll see to it."
"Thanks." Grabbing the few patient files on the counter waiting for his review, he heads back to his office. He takes a minute to flip through the one on top, setting his bag on the desk. There's a stack of voice notes on his desk, the light on his answering machine blinking.
Bobby Burke's latest X-rays are inside, and he holds it up to the light, recognizing the fracture in his growth plate immediately.
He sighs, sliding it on to the screen, turning it on.
How had he missed this?
Rubbing his jaw, he finds his glasses in his bag putting them on.
There's a soft knock on the door.
"Yeah," he calls out.
"Is this a bad time?"
He turns, finding Cassie standing in the doorway. "No…is everything alright?"
Entering his office, she holds out her elbow. "I promised to get this checked out."
His panic subsides, and he flicks off the screen, pulling the X-ray down. "You're in luck that the doctor is in. We'll have to go into one of the exam rooms."
She follows him into the next room, sliding up onto the exam table.
"You looked a little swamped in there," she comments.
The board is in an uproar about Amy. They've threatened to remove him as chief of staff.
The nurses are overworked and fatigued.
The wait times in emergency are too long.
And four year old Bobby Burke is going to need major surgery to fix the growth plate in his wrist.
"Nothing I can't handle," he lies. Sliding on a pair of gloves, he examines the inflammation just below her elbow. It's a textbook allergic reaction if he's ever seen one. "You're sure you don't have any allergies?"
She shakes her head. "Do you think I do?"
"I do. It would be worth drawing some blood for the lab to test."
She nods.
He needs her forearm, finding the right vein. "It may be the reason behind the dizziness, nausea and migraines you've been having."
"Maybe."
He tourniquets her arm, swabbing her skin with antiseptic. "Make a fist….you don't think so?" She's silent as he assembles the needle. "Talk to me, Cass."
She shakes her head, exhaling. "I don't like needles."
He's surprised at this. "Don't look."
She closes her eyes.
"Take a deep breath." As she inhales, he inserts the needle. The flash of red is immediate and he's able to fill enough catheters for the lab to test.
"Are you almost done?"
He chuckles, untying the tourniquet, pressing on the vein. "All done."
She looks down at her arm just as he's applying a bandaid to secure the cotton ball. "Really?"
He tosses the waist into the collection container, his gloves into the trash by his desk. "That quick." Labeling her samples, he places them into a transport bag. "The lab's backed up right now, but I'll see if I can get a rush put on these."
"Thank you, Sam."
He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "How was your meeting with Derek?"
"He had a lot of paperwork for me to sign….there's going to be a police detail outside of Grey House and the Bell book. He also wants me to…switch up my schedule….so it's not so predictable."
He catches the hitch in her voice and he moves towards her, pulling her into his arms. She clings to him, her hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.
"I'm scared, Sam," she exhales into his shoulder. "I can't stop thinking about Weld….he followed Grace, made her feel unsafe, scared….what were his intentions? What would he have done? And Abigail?….my shop, Greyhouse…he's out there and….I'm scared of what he'll do next."
He holds her tightly against him, cradling her head in his shoulder. "So am I," he admits. "The only thing that gave me any peace last night was knowing that you were there, right next to me." He's seen first hand what Jackson Wield is capable of and it's clear that he has something against the Merriwick women, specifically, Cassie. "….The board wants me to go to the city tonight."
She pulls back, meeting his gaze.
"…They've managed to convince Amy to meet with me one last time before her flight out. Come with me. We'll take the kids and just….get away from this for a night."
"….Running from this isn't going to fix it, Sam-"
"-We're not running," he disagrees. "We're just…regrouping. Getting our feet back on solid ground, together."
"Ok."
"Ok?" He repeats.
She nods, sliding back into his embrace.
Tbc