Chapter 22 - The Midnight Watch
It was well past midnight when Tessa finally pushed open the heavy oak door of the penthouse suite. The apartment was dark, save for the dying embers of the fire in the hearth and the pale moonlight reflecting off the snow-covered harbor outside.
She kicked off her boots with a quiet sigh of exhaustion, letting her heavy winter coat slide off her shoulders and onto the entryway bench. Her muscles ached, her feet throbbed from standing twelve hours straight on hospital tile, and her mind was still ringing with the adrenaline of the trauma ward.
As she walked into the living room, she noticed a tall, dark silhouette standing by the floor-to-ceiling bay window. Rafe was leaning against the glass, holding a crystal tumbler of amber scotch, watching the silent, frozen expanse of Berth 14 below. He wore a dark crewneck sweater, the sleeves pushed up slightly to reveal the faint, jagged scar on his forearm from a bullet wound long since healed.
He didn't turn around as she approached, but he reached out, his strong arm wrapping around her waist the moment she stepped within reach, pulling her gently against his side.
"You smell like antiseptic and cold air," Rafe murmured, his voice rich and steady in the quiet room. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.
"Trauma Three," Tessa breathed out, leaning her head against his solid shoulder, letting his warmth soak away the fatigue of the shift. "Multi-car pileup on the Expressway. We lost an hour trying to stabilize a spleen rupture, but he's going to make it."
Rafe tightened his grip, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. "You work too hard, Dr. Bennett. The hospital isn't going to collapse if you take a Tuesday off."
"Someone has to make sure patients don't die on the table, Rafe," she retorted softly, a faint smile touching her lips. "Besides, I like the work. It keeps me grounded."
Rafe took a slow sip of his scotch, his gray eyes fixed on the dark water outside. "You've never needed a hospital to keep you grounded, Tessa. You are the most immovable person I've ever met."
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"Coming from a man who spent a decade playing chess with federal prosecutors and rival crime bosses, I'll take that as the highest compliment," she teased, turning slightly to look up into his face.
Rafe looked down at her, the dark, formidable mask of the Calder syndicate entirely absent, replaced by the profound, unconditional devotion that belonged to her alone. He set his glass down on the windowsill, cupped her face in his warm hands, and leaned down to kiss her—a slow, deep, lingering kiss that washed away the fatigue, the cold, and the entire weight of the world outside.
