Gabe thought about his secret marriage to Nica and managed a genuine smile.“One revelation at a time, Douglas.One at a time.”
Nica arrived backat the ranch after having breakfast with Jill at Daisy’s Diner and talking about the whole situation with Gabe and the secret she was keeping from her family.She didn’t have any classes today, working as a substitute teacher.Today had been a free day, and she enjoyed having the time to slow down for a minute and have a leisurely breakfast with her soon-to-be sister-in-law.Now, she was back at the ranch, needing to pick up some clothes to take to her apartment to supplement her things there.
Walking into the front hall, she picked up the mail, headed into the kitchen, and poured a glass of sweet tea from the ever-present pitcher in the refrigerator.One large envelope stood out from all the other letters and magazines.
It was addressed to her.It wasn’t unusual for her to still get mail at the ranch.Since coming back from A&M, she’d moved into her own apartment on the outskirts of town, but a lot of people still used the ranch’s address.Without thinking, she opened the clasp and pulled out a sheaf of papers, clipped at the top with a large binder clip.Most of it seemed to be medical records and a few newspaper clippings.And a letter.A mean, nasty letter painting Gabe as something unthinkable, a monster.She blinked and eased onto a chair at the kitchen table, her eyes glued to the words that seemed to jump off the page.None of it was true, it couldn’t be, because the writer painted her husband as a villain, a murderer.Her stomach clenched, threatening to bring up the breakfast she’d just finished eating now sitting like lead.
Nica’s hands trembled as she spread the papers across her kitchen table, the morning sunlight catching dust motes that danced above the cursed words.
The word “murder” jumped out from the typed page, stark and accusatory.She picked up one of the newspaper articles, dated almost four years ago, describing a surgery gone wrong in California.The patient, a forty-three-year-old mother of two, had died on the operating table.The article was clinical, detached, but the letter writer had scrawled angry notes in red ink along the margins: “Negligent!”
“He knew better!”
“Wouldn’t admit his mistake!”
Nica’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the words.This wasn’t the Gabe she knew.The man who spent hours poring over medical journals, who agonized over every decision, who touched her face with such gentle hands—he couldn’t be responsible for something like this.He’d told her about going to medical school in California.The good stuff and the bad stuff.Admitted he had cases that haunted him still.She subconsciously knew something had happened in his past, things he hadn’t been able to talk about—not even with her.
But the evidence lay before her, a puzzle with pieces that seemed to fit too perfectly.There was more to this, and she knew exactly where to get the answers.Gathering the papers with jerky movements, she stuffed them back into the envelope.A chill ran down her spine, and she had the eeriest sense of being watched, which was impossible, the house was empty except for her.Everybody else was at work.The ranch’s security was on and armed.She’d had to put in her code to get into the house.
Everything suddenly felt too quiet, too empty, the walls pressing in.She needed to see Gabe, needed to look into his eyes while he explained this.A phone call wouldn’t do—she had to see his face.
Clasping the envelope to her chest, she rushed out the front door and scrambled into her car, shoving the key into the ignition.She had to get to town, get to Gabe.Everything would make sense if she could just talk to him.Feel his arms wrapped around her.The drive into town should have cleared her head.Instead, each mile seemed to take an eternity, winding her up tighter.When she first noticed the dark sedan in her rearview mirror, she dismissed it.But after the third turn, the car maintained its distance, matching her speed with eerie precision.
“You’re being paranoid,” she muttered, easing off the accelerator and motioning for the car to pass.Except it didn’t.The sedan slowed too, matching her speed.
Heart hammering against her ribs, she pressed down on the gas pedal, watching the speedometer climb.The car behind her surged forward, maintaining the same gap.Through her rearview mirror, she could make out only a silhouette—male, she thought, wearing sunglasses despite the cloudy day.
Was this connected to the envelope?Did someone want to make sure she received it?Or was this something else entirely?Her life had become a tangle of secrets: her marriage to Gabe, their reasons for keeping it quiet, and now this.
She jerked the wheel slightly, swerving onto the median, testing the trailing car.The sedan mimicked her movement.
“Dang it!”She slapped the steering wheel, anger rising to replace her fear.This was ridiculous.She was letting her imagination run wild, turning ordinary coincidences into sinister plots.Wasn’t that exactly what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do anymore she suffered through the break-in when she was at college?She still had PTSD from that trauma.
The drive seemed interminable, but the long stretch of road finally converged onto the edge of town.The sedan suddenly accelerated, the engine growling as it pulled alongside her.Nica held her breath, knuckles white on the steering wheel.But the car simply passed her, disappearing around the next bend in a matter of seconds.
She let out a shaky laugh, feeling foolish and drained.How quickly she’d spun a simple drive into a scene from a thriller, all because of that stupid letter.The envelope that still sat on the passenger seat, filled with accusations she couldn’t unread.Maybe she’d been reading too many of Camilla’s books.
The clinic’s parking lot was half-empty when she arrived.Inside, the receptionist’s words hit her like a physical blow: “Dr.Summers was called to the hospital for some kind of emergency, sorry.”
Nica stood there, envelope clutched to her chest, suddenly aware of how alone she felt.Who could she talk to?Jill knew about her marriage, but this stuff with Gabe was different.This was the kind of career-ending gossip and innuendo that led to people losing their jobs, maybe even criminal prosecution.The walls of the waiting room seemed to close in, and she fought the urge to run.
She needed to think clearly, to plan her next move carefully.Instead, she found herself walking back to her car, mind spinning with half-formed theories, and remembered fragments of her drive into town.The envelope weighed heavy in her hands, like it contained not just paper, but the power to shatter everything she thought she knew about the man she’d married.
She’d wait at Gabe’s apartment.Funny, how it was his apartment—not theirs.Maybe it was time to tell her family the truth, stop hiding behind all the lies.When he got home, he’d tell her everything would be alright.Tell her everything the letter implied was false, that all the articles and medical reports were some kind of mistake.
Because if they were true, she really didn’t know the man she’d married at all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Gabe’s shoulders achedas he climbed the stairs to his third-floor apartment.The surgical mask lines were still creased into his face, and the scent of antiseptic clung to him despite the shower he’d taken at the hospital.Fourteen grueling hours on his feet.He’d spent the morning at the clinic, seeing non-critical patients, and then had been called to their small hospital for an emergency.Three back-to-back surgeries, the last one an emergency appendectomy on Andy Jacobson’s teenage son.Shiloh Springs Community Hospital wasn’t equipped for the complex trauma cases he’d handled in California, but days like today reminded him that small-town medicine came with its own brand of exhaustion.
All he wanted was to see Nica’s face.To hold her.Maybe she’d made that chicken and dumplings her momma had taught her, or maybe they’d just order pizza and collapse on the couch together.The secret of their marriage weighed on him some days—signing separate names on forms, maintaining separate addresses in reality as well as on paper—but there was something thrilling about it too.Their private world, just the two of them.No one else’s opinions or expectations.The only thing niggling at his conscience was lying to Douglas and Ms.Patti.He hated lying to people he respected as much as he did the Boudreaus.
He fumbled with his keys, wincing at the pull across his trapezius.The door swung open before he could get the key into the lock.
“Hey, I was just about to—” The words died in his throat.
Nica stood in the doorway she’d just flung open, still in the sage green blouse and jeans he’d seen her wearing that morning when she’d left to have breakfast with Jill, her long blonde hair coming loose from its usual neat bun.Papers were scattered across his coffee table.Her eyes were red-rimmed, her peaches-and-cream complexion pale.She didn’t move toward him for their usual hello kiss.
