#post divorce

As the back doors of the ambulance open and the paramedics start to roll out your gurney, you beg them to just let you go home.

"I promise you, I am fine, I'm just a little scraped up," you plead.

After a minor car accident, you were seriously fine. Just a ding, or a bruised rib maybe, but since your car was totaled and the other driver ended up way worse than you, EMS urged you to at least get checked out. If anything you just felt a little embarrassed being rolled around on a gurney.

As you enter the double doors, and the large letters of PTMC adorn the archway you automatically recognize where you are and your stomach immediately drops.

"Fuck," you swear under your breath. Thinking that if you close your eyes and lay down you'd turn invisible. You cannot be here right now. You didn’t even think about the possibility of being brought here. Quickly, you try to recall what time it is. 5 o'clock, you think, maybe he isn't here yet. You knew that was bullshit. He was always early to work. The only thing he made sure he was never late to.

When the bright lights blind you and the cold air breezes through your hair, a familiar face comes rushing to the gurney for intake.

"Alright, boys, what do we got-...Y/N?" she all but yells.

You grimace.

"Hi Dana, how have you been?" you say with an awkward smile. "I swear I'm fine they made me come in"

Dana’s eyes widen and she starts scanning the room, knowing exactly who we need to be straying away from.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” you sigh. Knowing the one person you have been avoiding for years could show up at any moment.

“We don’t have to worry about that right now,” she rushes out as 2 young…interns, you assume, come rushing beside her. They just get younger and younger don’t they?

“Santos and Whitaker,” she starts, both of them wide eyed and eager. “Take her to West 12 and page Robby.

They nod, confused on her sudden sternness as she emphasizes “And do NOT call Abbot, I do not care if Robby is packing up to leave you leave Jack out of this”

As EMS rolls you to your room, past all the patients waiting and the other nurses and doctors, you attempt to breathe through the pain you were pretending you weren’t having. Anything to get out of there faster.

As you get transferred and hooked up to monitors, an older doctor walks in, introducing himself as Dr. Langdon.

You smirk with nostalgia, remembering his dark brown hair and Ken doll-like build.

“Wait, I know you,” you begin.

He raises his eyebrow, “You do?”

You giggle as you remember Dr. Langdon the intern.

“Yeah you were an intern who loved kissing ass to every attending around you,” you chuckle. Reminiscing about how Jack would complain about him at least 4 times a week.

Santos perks up, seemingly excited to learn about her boss’s past.

 “Wow, Langdon, who would have thought you were a brown-noser?” she says sarcastically.

Langdon, ignoring her, continues his work-up as Robby walks in. He pauses at the door as you make eye contact sheepishly. Again embarrassed to be there but more embarrassed he’s here to oversee you.

“Oh here we go,” you sigh as you sit back in the bed. 

Robby was always protective of you. Like a little sister. You hated it sometimes because you can handle your own and you always have, but you understood where he was coming from. 

“Good to see you too, Y/N,” he says while gloving up, grabbing your chart and walking over. “What’s it been, 3 years? What the fuck happened?”

“Robby, please,” you beg. “I was just telling the paramedics I am just scraped up. I am literally fine,” you start.

You look at him intently, as if telepathically telling him you need to get out of here as soon as possible before Jack shows up, not wanting to bring your business up to the 3 other people in the room you just met.

You can tell he knows what you’re thinking, but he would be damned if he’d let you walk out of here without properly making sure you were 100% fine.

“Y/N…,” he starts.

“Fine,” You dramatically sigh as you finally give up. “Just do whatever you need to do”

“It’s good to see you,” he says. “I hate that it had to happen like this but I have missed you. You could have called”

“I could have,” you look away, feeling guilty. Robby was family. But it hurt too much to continue to talk to anyone that reminded you of him. You needed to completely move on. It wasn’t personal, you just had to be selfish for yourself for once.

The awkward silence is broken by a sharp gasp triggered by Santos prodding your side.

“I’m sorry,” she states in a monotone state, fiercely focused on the work at hand. You respected that. 

Santos turns to Whitaker, asking him to notate bruised and/or cracked ribs.

“Damn it,” you grumble.

Robby chuckles under his breath. “Yeah you are not getting out of here soon”

“That’s not funny,” you roll your eyes.

At the Nurse’s Station, Dana is suddenly hawk-eyed. Making sure Abbot stays far away from the clear doors of the room you’re in, knowing she’d be on the hook first for not telling him.

“Perlah, if you see Abbot can you let him know I need to see him stat”, she says as she strategizes excuses.

“You got it,” she responds, turning towards Princess with eyes that say “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s gonna be really juicy”

Dana makes a round on the floor, making sure everything else is running smoothly as a couple of young parents come busting through the ambulance bay with their toddler who may or may not have shoved a Lego piece up her nose. 

As Jack makes his way to the E.R., she asks him to take a look at this young girl, buying her just a smidge of time.

“Dr. Abbot can absolutely help you guys,” she says with a sense of concerning enthusiasm.

He offers his help of course, but not before giving Dana a look that says “This is intern work”. 

Speaking of, where are the interns? he thought. With no time to actually track them down, Dana leads him and the family to South 20.

Dana sighs with relief knowing that will keep him occupied for at least a while.

Back in West 12, Robby starts prepping an ultrasound probe to check for internal bleeding. Still feeling slightly embarrassed and now wholly exposed, you lay completely flat with your arms up covering your eyes, hoping this nightmare will end soon.

“So,” Robby starts trying to break the silence. “I heard you moved to New York,”

You peek through your forearms. He is really doing this.

“Yeah…my- uh sister is down there. Needed a change and my job was really flexible about it,” you explain, guilt creeping up your throat. Why do you feel guilty? You were a newly single woman, you could do whatever you want.

Robby doesn’t say anything, continuing to move the probe around in your midsection to make sure you aren’t bleeding out.

“I didn’t mean to just run away, I just-,” you begin to defend.

Robby looks from the monitor to you with understanding eyes.

“Hey, if anyone can relate to having the need to get away, it’s me,” he starts. 

You give him a confused look as he remembers you’ve missed the last 3 years.

“I uh, also went away for a while,” he says.

You blink, stonefaced before you crack a smile.

“You, Michael “I’m addicted to my job” Robinavitch, went on leave? Ha ha good one,” you joke. There was just no way he got up and left his job. The only person more committed to the PTMC than Jack was him.

Robby can’t help but chuckle at the joke. It’s true, he was so entangled with his job, he didn't know where Dr. Robinavitch stopped and just Michael started.

“I did, I’d never lie about that. I almost didn’t come back,” he says.

You turn towards him, serious now. 

“Damn it must have been serious for you then,” you say.

After taking out the 2 Lego pieces from little Jane’s nose. Jack Abbot strolls up to the Nurse’s Station to prepare for the night shift. As he waits for the rest of the Night Crew to show up, he takes a look at the ER board.

“Wow, not too busy at the start for now,” he thinks to himself. He wouldn’t dare say that out loud.

As he’s scanning, he notices a familiar name. 

Y/L/N,Y/F/I

MVC

West 12

He freezes. He thinks to himself there is no way that this is the same Y/L/N he was…used to be married to.

Dana comes back to the station cautiously. She can see his gears turning. “Fuck” she thinks.

“Jack,” she starts. Not wanting to cause a scene here.

Jack closes his eyes and sighs. That’s all the confirmation he needed.

“Dana, please don’t tell me she’s here. Please don’t tell me she’s here and no one told me,” he says calmly while his heart starts picking up pace.

“She asked me not to say anything,” she tried to soften the blow

“Bullshit,” he scoffs as he looks around the floor. “Where’s Robby?”

Dana looks down, absolutely not wanting to be involved in the argument that’s about to follow.

When Jack realizes the extent of what the hell was going on as he makes his way to West 12. With each step he grows less angry and more anxious, like his legs could give out at any moment. He doesn’t know how bad it is. It’s also been 3 years since the divorce. 3 years since they’ve spoken to each other. 3 years of him wanting to call her everyday, but knowing he shouldn’t. 

Jack busts through the doors as Robby has continued X-rays and ultrasounds. You can’t see who has walked in, as Robby was blocking the door, but you are just assuming it's another nurse as Whitaker keeps ordering labs and scans.

When Robby finally turns you make eye contact with Jack and freeze. Neither of you move. Neither of you talk. The room somehow grows even colder.

Robby begins to speak. “...Jack-,” he starts.

Jack puts his hand up. He doesn’t want to hear it at all. Not now, that doesn’t matter now.

Santos and Whitaker exchange glances and make up some excuse to exit the room that no one really heard.

Robby slowly follows, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder as he leaves, tapping it twice as if to say, “I’m sorry” and “Find me if you need me”. 

It’s now just you and Jack. Silent and staring at each other from across the room as if you’d entered a staring contest. You didn’t even know what to say. 

“Hi,” is all you can choke out.

Jack stares at the floor and quietly scoffs. “That’s really all you have to say?” He grabs your chart at the foot of the bed.

“Hey, you aren’t my doctor you can’t just grab my chart,” you try and joke.

He isn’t in a laughing mood, not in the slightest. “You were in an accident and tried to hide from me,” he starts.

“I am literally fine,” you groan for what feels like the 100th time. “I didn’t even know I was coming here it all happened so fast I would have-,”

“Would have what?” he interrupted. “Asked them to take you somewhere else?”

You grow quiet, knowing that you probably would have. You weren’t ready to face him again. You were never going to be ready.

“Jack-,” you begin.

“I have missed you…so much,” he chokes. “I always want to call you after every shift to update you on literally the smallest things, but I knew that you hated me so I-,”

“Woah,” you cut in. “Hate? Jack, I don't hate you. I have never hated you,” You were kind of surprised he felt this way

Jack blinks at you.

Three months had passed since you left Tokyo for the misty, sea-swept coast of Denmark. True to his promise, Nanami had rebuilt your entire world. Your new home was a masterpiece of minimalist architecture, isolated from the rest of the world, where the rhythmic crashing of the waves replaced the relentless neon rain of Japan.

Nanami had softened. A new, hard-won peace settled into his eyes every time he saw you reading by the fireplace. The structured routines of your life had become a comforting ritual. You thought you were safe. You thought the case was closed.

Then, on a Tuesday morning, at exactly 8:00 AM, a letter arrived.

It hadn't been sent through standard mail. It had been held by a prestigious Tokyo notary firm, under strict instructions to be couriered internationally only after a specific duration of time had lapsed. The envelope was a heavy, dark navy paper. The elegant, slightly trembling cursive script turned your blood to ice before you even broke the wax seal.

Nanami, who was busy preparing tea in the kitchen, noticed the color instantly drain from your face. He set the cup down, his sharp eyes locking onto the paper in your trembling hands. "Darling? What is it?"

You couldn't answer him. Your eyes were already racing across Hiromi's final words.

My dearest love, The court has handed down its verdict, and I have accepted my sentence. You said I wanted to drag you into the grave with me. You were wrong. I simply wanted us to live. But if my presence condemned you to live in a gilded cage, then I have chosen to adjourn the session permanently. Monsieur Nanami believes he has won because he bought my debts, my firm, and your future. He thinks life is merely a sequence of numbers that can be erased or replaced. But blood is not ink, and memory is not an asset to be liquidated. By the time you read these lines, my body will have been found in Courtroom Number 3 of the Tokyo District Court. Right where it all began. I am leaving, but I am not leaving you. Every time you look at that man, every time you attempt to feel entirely happy, you will remember that the price of your freedom was paid with my life. I am ensuring that you can never, ever forget me. I am becoming your eternal case of conscience. The trial is over, Love. But I keep the final word.

A sudden, sharp chime echoed through the quiet room. Nanami’s phone vibrated on the marble counter, displaying an international news alert from Japan: Prominent former Tokyo defense attorney found dead by suicide in Chiyoda courthouse.

Nanami stepped toward you, his usually unreadable face fracturing with a sudden, rare flash of pure panic. He threw his arms around you, pulling you against his chest with a force that bordered on painful, as if he could physically shield you from the ghost that had just entered the room.

"Do not read it, darling. Do not listen to him," he whispered urgently, his voice trembling for the first time in your memory as he pressed desperate kisses into your hair, trying to anchor you back to his perfect, structured reality. "He lost. We are here. You are mine."

But as you buried your face against Nanami’s chest, you could no longer hear the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. All you could hear, echoing through the cold silence of your perfect sanctuary, was the distant, definitive strike of an iron gavel hitting the wood.

Hiromi had lost the battle. But in taking his own life, he had sentenced your mind to life imprisonment.

And that is the final verdict… Please don't kill me guys, I know this is a devastating ending! Hiromi really decided that if he couldn't have her, he would make sure she could never fully belong to Nanami either… absolute psychological warfare!

This was Part 4 of our 4-chapter mini-series, which means the trial is officially closed. Thank you so much for following this dark journey with me! ♡

Read the full series here Looking for more? Check my Reacts & Imagines

Likes are really appreciated and reblogs are what keep this blog alive. If you enjoyed this please consider sharing! (っ˘ω˘ς )♡

There was nothing like being settled on your couch, favourite snacks at the ready, an excellent glass of wine in hand and a new journal to absorb. For some people that would be a lame Friday night in but given Yolanda’s girlfriend was apparently stuck late on shift – three hours at this stage. She wasn’t complaining too much.

Shit. She and Trin were domesticating each other.

She sipped her wine staring at the collection of Trinity related books on her bookshelf. They’d been together nearly... two years? Maybe domesticity suited Yolanda than she thought it would. Besides they still had their own spaces. Yolanda was happy to have Trinity – she was not adopting the Victorian child as her own. Whitaker was perfectly acceptable as Trin’s bestie, stray, protegee queer whatever. But Yolanda was and always would be childfree. No adoptions of any age.

BANG!

‘Fuck!’ Yolanda nearly jumped out of her skin. Barely keeping the wine within the confines of its glass. Trinity never moved quietly. At work, at home, in bed. She was loud as could be. However on the scale of Trinity noise levels this was about a 10. ‘Trin??? What the-’

‘Did I break up a marriage?’ A rush of sounds. Panic and pain.

The words were words. Of the English language but the meaning... no that didn’t make any sense. Trinity skidded before falling to her knees next to Yolanda’s perch on the couch. Green eyes wide and full of genuine panic.

‘Am I responsible for a marriage and a family fucking breaking down Landa???’ Yolanda grabbed Trinity’s freezing hand. She was in some sort of shot. Pupils tight. Pulse erratic.

Yolanda tried to use her most reassuring voice. Unfortunately as a surgeon she wasn’t the most skilled, but better than some. ‘Babe I need context. What marriage? What family?’

‘Langdon.’

One glass of wine could not explain why thoughts seemed to be moving at the rate of a lethargic snail in Yolanda’s head. Again the word was coherent, understandable but it wasn’t registering.

Trinity clearly getting annoyed with her girlfriends stupidity snapped loudly. ‘It’s all over the hospital. Langdon was in today – no ring. Overheard talking to Melissophobia and Mohan and yeah papers were signed this morning???’ Shockingly Trinity was now fighting back tears. A loosing battle by the looks of it.

Yolanda pulled her up to lie on her chest, soothing her as best she could. Scratching at her scalp and smoothing out her hair. ‘It’s not your fault okay. He’d mentioned having a lawyer-’

Trinity’s head shot up. Her fast aghast and betrayed. ‘Langdon didn’t ask me not to tell you. In fact he told me I could...’ Her girlfriends argument died at her words. Surprise dancing in her bright green eyes. ‘But he was clearly keeping it on the down low. If people asked how things were at home, he’d say. That’s how he told me. But given how much scrutiny he’s still under... I didn’t want to add any fuel to the fire.’

Trin buried her head into Yolanda’s boobs. ‘That’s fair.’ Voice cutely muffled and pouty.

‘I know. But it has nothing to do with you Trin. He made that very clear to me.’ Trinity froze in Yolanda’s arms. Trinity and Langdon weren’t exactly friends, they weren’t enemies either. One the dust had settled on his return he’d politely asked Trin if they could talk. She hadn’t gone into details as to the conversation but the hatchet had been buried more or less. Polite. Professional but there was a very understandable distance.

Whitaker had taken longer to come around. And pretty much only did after King scolded him for setting a better example to the medical students. Not that he wasn’t wrong to be mad at Langdon. An interesting distinction. Just that he was better than he was acting.

They worked together. Worked fairly well as a team really. Pushed the other to be better. Langdon more than anyone else worked to utilise Trinity defensive nature (which typically reared it’s head as arrogance) into better outlets. Trin made him justify his choices to understand his treatment plan without pissing him off. Got him really thinking things through. They were competitive. Much like Yolanda and Langdon. Just EM inter warfare not surgery versus EM. Different. No connection outside of work, the medicine.

‘You know I’ve known him a long time.’ Trinity murmured a vague noise of agreement. ‘I knew him before he started dating Abby. That’s the wife- well ex wife.’ Trinity curled further into Yolanda, cool hands sneaking under her sweatshirt, up her back. Legs intertwined as they lay back on Yolanda’s bed like couch. ‘They just sort of fell together. The relationship worked well, then, don’t get me wrong. And they loved each other. But to me anyway there was always a note of it being born out of convenience as opposed to any passion.’

‘Doesn’t sound like Langdon. He’s opinionated as fuck.’

Yolanda couldn’t hide the laughter in her voice. ‘Reminds me of someone else I like.’

‘Like?’

‘Love.’ Trinity placed a gentle kiss against her jugular.

‘You love Langdon?’

‘Like a pain in the ass sibling. He grows on you.’

‘Like a tumour.’

Yolanda chuckled. ‘He’s said the same thing multiple times. Anyway... it just seemed all their actions as a couple stemmed from outside forces rather than the absolute need to be in each others lives. When they moved in together it was because both their leases were up. Timing did seem to sync for them. And he was a complete dork for her. Frank told me that one of the reasons they got married so early was because she got pregnant and they both felt that was a sign. Like everything seemed to be.’

‘Oh.’ Yeah that’s how Yolanda had felt when Frank told her about it. Doing her level best to hide her scepticism.

‘Yeah. They were equally bad about looking at the whole picture instead of just reacting to things as they came.’

‘Two kids before thirty during residency seems like a lot.’ Trinity’s voice was absolutely mystified. Frank wasn’t exactly known for his patience. Like either women on the couch. So the rush felt appropriate but the timing was shit.

‘Yeah and Abby’s been doing the law school route through all that as well.’

‘Shit.’

‘Neither of them are ones that shy away from a challenge.’

Trinity didn’t answer. Yolanda felt some of her tension ease but not all of it. ‘I’m not shocked they’re getting divorced. After everything that’s happened... I think it’s better for both of them.’

Rehab.

Both women were skirting around the issue. Trinity had exposed him when no one else had seen it. No. That wasn’t really true. When no one else had wanted to see it. Admit that they’d missed their colleague, their friend in trouble. That he felt that he didn’t have a lifesaver to cling to. That he had to try to help himself alone. A fucking moron as Yolanda had yelled at him during his rehab stint.

The real moron was the Doctor who over prescribed him and didn’t have a scrap of reasonable pain management strategies. During the opioid crisis? It was only sheer dumb luck that someone wasn’t dead already.

‘You know he’s actually grateful to you babe?’ Trinity huffed. A fake one. ‘It sucked what happened. But you did what any one of us should have done. You saved his life.’

Trinity turned and snuggled into Yolanda neck. ‘I would do it differently now. If given the choice I would try a better approach.’

‘You were a neon green intern. An extremely hot one. But bright green never the less. If you knew everything, we’d have nothing to teach.’ Trinity nipped at her neck in protest. Yolanda ignored it. ‘Maybe you should talk to him. Have an actual conversation with the man that isn’t about crikes and STEMIs. Something real. He’s actually pretty fucking charming.’

Trinity still wasn’t her fiery self. Yolanda groaned loudly, in irritation. Just hiding in Yolanda’s body. Which ordinarily would be great but the likelihood of her girlfriend getting in the mood from this melancholia was piss poor. Blindly she groped for her phone. Idly wishing that Trin would start groping her. No such luck.

It took a few goes but eventually she grabbed the device. Trinity tried to stop her but the call was already live.

‘Ahhh Yoyo you heard the news.’ Frank never bothered with pleasantries with her. His voice was neither depressed or exuberant. But he did sound lighter. Less burdened.

‘May have made it’s way around the Pitt gossip circuit.’

‘Faster than F1 baby.’

He was with someone. Two someone’s actually judging from the overlapping and horrifically indistinct voices. Something familiar but she couldn’t hear them well enough to full identify who they were. Yolanda glanced down at Trinity. Trin who was determinedly, with all her immense reserves of stubbornness acting like she wasn’t listening to every word.

‘How are you?’

Frank sighed a little. Yolanda knew that his head was dropping forward. The weight of the question settling on his shoulders. Hair bouncing in that stupid way it did. ‘It sucks. But my heart doesn’t feel ripped out of my ribcage if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Frank.’

He knew a rebuke when he heard it. ‘Okay. It’s really fucking weird that my marriage is over. And it’s weird to say those words. But it is and my world isn’t over. In fact it almost felt like the natural next step for me and Abs.’

Abs. So clearly the pair were still on good terms.

‘We really sped run the relationship at every chance we got. Might as well finish it out with an amicable divorce.’

Well that was a very healthy way of looking at this. Too healthy. Suspicion flared. 

‘What did I say to you the first night I met you?’

‘Are you seriously security checking me Yoyo?’

‘Answer the question before I assume you’re a pod person or in a fucked up cult?’

‘Those are the options?’ Exasperated. And confused. At least she was distracting him from his day?

‘Langdon!’

‘Fine. The first stellar line of Yolanda Garcia to I, Frank Langdon was “I have no interest in anything dick related fuck face so please think carefully before approaching me”. We were in a library and I needed an anatomy book behind your head.’ His impression of her wasn't horrendous. In fact it was a good but he was impersonating greatness. It rubbed off.

‘Hm.’

‘Did I pass the test?’

‘Just about.’

‘Like you weren’t anticipating this Yo.’

Trinity could hear his voice pretty clearly if the cycle of facial expressions was anything to go by. No doubt wondering how she and he got off on such a bad footing if he liked his friends as spicy as possible. That was for them to figure out. Also she knew the answer, just didn’t want to admit she fucked up her first day.

‘Yeeeeah I think the pandemic really stretched things out.’

‘Possibly.’ But he agreed with tone, if not words.

There was a faint strain of music on his end. Christmas music? It was the middle of May for fucks sake. Frank spoke to someone else, hand muffling the conversation more than Yolanda liked. Who was he with post divorce??? ‘Yeah yeah I’ll go into another room.’ There was some joke at the end judging from the tone of voice of voice.

Her foot bounced as Frank too his sweet fucking time going into the order room. The dog making himself know. Tripping him up. Good. ‘Put me on speaker Yo.’

She hesitated for a second. Trinity eyebrows twisting in confusion and a little panic. ‘Do I need to be in the room for this?’

‘You’re my reference.’

Once again Yolanda was cursing the day that Frank Langdon stomped all over her life. She loved him, but most of the time it was the reluctant sort. So she tried to claim. ‘Urgh fine.’

‘Santos.’ Trin just hid in her boobs again.

Yolanda laughed a little. ‘She’s hiding in my tits man.’

Frank hm’d mockingly. ‘That’s not a lot of cushion.’

Trin’s head was up like a shot. Her glare so withering it probably should have melted her phone a little. His replying chuckle just irritated Trinity even more. ‘Bigger than your dick.’

‘Awwww you think about me.’

Both lesbians gagged. Frank was far too amsued with himself. ‘But I digress. Santos. None of what happened is on you. I am sure Yoyo there has given you her totally objective opinion of the situation.’ The pause was melodramatic. No doubt his eyebrows hitting his hair line. Face that punchable level of smug. He knew her so well. ‘And she’s not wrong about any of it. I don’t regret most of the choices in my life. Benzos aside.’

Trinity’s face darkened. No doubt seeing her friend. But his words were having an effect. The tightness in her body easing with each word. ‘Abby and I will never actually be fully apart. We have two kids, it’s just that... we’re better parents and friends than husband and wife. That’s the truth of it. Again I will always love her but things change. I’ve changed. A fuck ton. Yo will provide you a thesis with scientific evidence of my stupidity-.’ Yolanda bit back the retort. ‘-You have some yourself. But this... don’t own it. It’s my house. Well no actually Abby’s bought that out...’

He paused doing the mental math. Yolanda hadn’t know that Abby had bought him out. But she was a talented lawyer. So it did make sense. ‘Long story short. Get over it. There’s no point carrying a weight that is actually weightless. Can we go back to feuding? I know what to do with that.’

‘You’re a dumbass Langdon.’ Trinity finallysounded like herself.

Yolanda dropped her head back against the pile of cushions. ‘Ahhh she’s back.’

‘That’s it. We’re not having sex later.’ Trinity sat up, eyes bright with fury and heat. They were so having sex later. Yolanda wiggled her eyebrows. And then loudly smacked her ass. Trinity wiggled in her lap.

‘I did not need to hear that.’ Frank, who’d they both forgotten was on the phone just cleared his throat. ‘Any of that. So we good? Santos?’

Trinity pondered for a minute. ‘As we ever are.’

‘Truce?’

‘Until the next sparring match.’

‘You’re on.’

Classic Frank gone without a goodbye. Yolanda tilted her head at the phone. He was in a bit of rush. Who was he with? Half tempted to pull up his location on her phone. Just out of curiousity. If he had been cheating on Abby, she would have known. It wasn't his style. But there was something going on. Something.

‘You were right. I should actually talk to him.’

‘He’s a bastard, but a funny one.’

‘I’m a funnier bitch.’

‘Hotter too.’

‘That goes without saying.’ The hair toss was hot. No lie.

Yolanda shifted a little. Trinity immediately slipping in between her legs. ‘I still feel like I need to make it up to him though.’ Her approach to reporting Langdon on Labour Day hadn’t exactly screamed finesse or discreet. It’s wasn’t like she’d screamed it from the roof but... hospital gossip. People talked.

Trinity’s hands were moving with much more intent now. With the conversation a little conflicting. ‘You could get Whitaker off his dick. Back I meant back.’ Both women recoiled at the inadvertent implication. Frank had never limited himself based on gender but no that was not a pleasant image.

Trinity hummed. ‘I was just going to try and encourage Melissophobia to jump him but if you think getting Huckleberry to stand down would better.’

Yolanda’s brain stuttered to a halt. Then again her girlfriend was working her top off. ‘King?’

‘You can’t tell me you don’t get it.’ Not Yolanda’s choice of dirty talk. But when her girlfriend had made quick work of her clothes. Hot woman on her. In underwear she’d let her talk about whatever she’d wanted to. ‘They are totally into each other.’

‘Oh no she is completely his type. Believe me. But babe can we stop talking about Langdon. Just please stop talking.’