Rough Edge (The Edge #1)(22)

“Doctor St. John here is assisting, but he’s been lead on this procedure a few hundred times.”

Caden looked up to salute the students.

He saw me and froze.

We didn’t move as the other doctor continued. His eyes betrayed nothing. I was wrong to be here. Wrong to distrust him. Wrong to worry. He had his hands on a living heart. Of course his detachment bled over.

I waved and tried to smile.

He nodded and got back to work.



* * *



He called after one in the morning. I was in bed, watching the clouds cross the setting moon over the brownstones across the street.

“Did I wake you?” he asked. The vocal deadness was still there. Maybe I’d have to get used to it.

“No.”

“Did you enjoy the surgery?”

“Better than Cats.”

He laughed a real, true, guttural laugh and I almost burst into tears.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I disturbed you.”

“You didn’t disturb me.”

“I missed you.”

He sighed. It wasn’t an annoyed sigh or a sigh of boredom, but a final exhale of breath after the realization that what was started wouldn’t be finished. It was an acceptance of defeat. “You know how much I miss you? I stole your perfume so I could smell you when I’m on the cots.”

“You’re not that far away.”

“I know.”

He didn’t offer an explanation as to why he couldn’t sleep at home, or why he’d decided to stay away for days. I was owed that.

“Are you coming home now?” I asked.

“I need to be here.”

“You’re pushing it, darling.”

“I know, baby.”

“I’ll be at Jenn’s opening tomorrow at five. The masks.”

“I thought you saw it last week.”

“It’s been in previews or something. Ask her when you see her. Don’t come if you want to sleep in. But if you sleep in, you sleep here.”

“Is that an order?”

It shouldn’t have to be an order, but I couldn’t read him well enough to know if he was being playful or if he was offended at having his leash yanked.

“Consider it an order.”





Chapter Eleven





CADEN





There was no starving it while Greyson was in my life. The Thing hovered back in the ambience until I thought of her, then it smiled. When she beeped me, it made its presence known. And when I recognized her voice, I felt it listening.

Leaving her was not an option. Cutting her out wouldn’t make me sane any more than pretending the Thing didn’t exist would. I needed her. Before her, I had been made of broken glass in a padded bag. Everything looked fine on the outside, but I’d been cutting myself. She opened the bag and put the shards together.

I loved her too much to choose this Thing over her. That much I was sure of. But outside the OR, I couldn’t think clearly. Couldn’t create a solution or make a decision in the thick swirl of jealousy and panic. Every thought walked a razor’s edge between sanity and insanity, and the edge kept moving until I didn’t know which side was which.

Every day, it got worse. Even if the Thing wasn’t fully present, I felt its pressure against the skin of my mind, pressing against the membrane like a fist punching a latex wall. When I woke in a sweat, the pressure increased, and when she called, it burst through. My emotions were getting sucked into the black hole of this nightmare and I couldn’t shake it. The glue got stickier every day.

The treatment wasn’t a cure, but I craved it.

It was a perversion.

To quell the Thing, I had to hurt Greyson. I had to fuck her like a fighter. Mark her like a vandal. Break her like a champion.

I could make her come over and over while I did it too. That satisfied every part of me and made the Thing howl. It separated me from it. Severed the tie.

If I could take advantage of that opportunity long enough to talk to her, maybe we could fix this. All I had to do was get over the humiliation of not being in control of my own mind.



* * *



I had a million excuses to avoid the opening and only one reason to go. The reason was Greyson. So I went.

Seeing my wife in a public place meant I could put off the inevitable long enough to change my mind, chase her away, talk myself into some other course of action. By the time I got there, I had my full mental facilities only by way of making sure my emotions were not engaged.

When I saw her standing in a little black dress and heels, her fingers curved around a wine glass, I felt something.

But desire wasn’t an emotion. Possession wasn’t an emotion.

I kissed her cheek, and as expected, the Thing jumped into the space between us.

I wasn’t angry as much as I wanted to battle it and win.

Combativeness wasn’t an emotion either. Or maybe it was. I didn’t care.

“Congratulations,” I said to Jenn. When I kissed her cheek, I kissed her cheek. No third party slid in on the action.

Tina approached and introduced herself, as expected. I smiled and shook her hand. Same thing as Jenn. Nothing jumped between where we touched.

“I’ve been wooing your wife,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind.”