CHAPTER TWO

ETHAN

“Don’t say it.” I cracked open my beer, deliberately ignoring the amused glint in Clara’s eyes.

The cute bartender she’d been shamelessly flirting with had stepped away to handle the happy hour rush, leaving Clara free to observe me with an expression that was far too knowing for my liking.

“Fine. I won’t,” she said, crossing her legs and taking a slow, deliberate sip of her drink.

Clara and I had met during my first year of residency, when we bonded over our shared love of action sports and cheesy ‘90s movies.

She was an ER nurse at Thayer University Hospital, where I was now a third-year resident specializing in Emergency Medicine, so our paths crossed often.

Over time, we’d become good friends. And, considering she had as much interest in sleeping with men as she did in dating a rock, that friendship had never once veered into anything more.

So no, she wasn’t my date—not in the romantic sense, at least—but I hadn’t bothered correcting Lena’s assumption. My personal life wasn’t any of her business. Hell, most days, I wished it wasn’t my business either.

“Good.” I caught the gaze of a pretty blonde seated at the far end of the bar and flashed a lazy, flirtatious smile. She responded with a sultry one of her own.

Perfect.

This was exactly what I needed tonight. A few drinks, a Wizards game with Clara, and some light, meaningless flirting. Anything to take my mind off the stack of unopened letters waiting for me at home.

Correction: letters. Plural.

December 24. January 16. February 20. March 2.

The dates seared themselves into my memory, as sharp and unforgiving as the guilt that came with them.

Like clockwork, a new letter arrived every month. And every month, I told myself to throw it away. But I never did.

I took a long, slow pull from my beer, forcing myself not to think about the unopened envelopes sitting in my desk drawer. It was my second beer in less than ten minutes, but after the kind of day I’d had, I wasn’t about to give a shit.

“I’ve always liked redheads,” Clara mused suddenly, yanking me back to a conversation I had zero interest in having. She tapped her glass, her tone light but pointed. “Maybe because The Little Mermaid was my favorite Disney movie growing up.”

Clara’s smile widened at my long-suffering sigh, clearly enjoying my frustration.

“Your lack of subtlety is truly astonishing.”

“I like to have at least one trait that’s astonishing.”

She took another slow sip of her drink, eyes glinting with mischief. “So, who was she?”

There was no point in dodging the question. Once Clara caught the scent of something remotely interesting, she latched on like a pit bull with a bone—relentless and utterly impossible to shake.

“My sister’s best friend,” I muttered. “And a pain in my ass.”

Tension coiled in my shoulders at the memory of my run-in with Lena. Even when I tried to be civil, she had to be difficult. Forget an olive branch—I should’ve handed her a bouquet of thorns and watched her grab it out of pure spite, just to prove she could.

Every time I attempted even the bare minimum of politeness—which, to be fair, wasn’t often—she reminded me exactly why we would never be friends. We were too damn headstrong, too quick with our sharp tongues. It was like setting fire against fire—nothing but heat, smoke, and destruction.

Unfortunately, none of that changed the fact that she and my sister, Ava, had been inseparable since college. Which meant I was stuck with her, like it or not.

I still didn’t know what her problem with me was, but I sure as hell knew what my issue with her was—Lena had a bad habit of dragging Ava into trouble.

In the seven years they’d known each other, I’d seen Ava trip out on Lena’s pot brownies and almost streak naked at a party. I’d been the one to console her after she drunkenly dyed her hair a semi-permanent shade of orange at Lena’s birthday. And I was the one who had to rescue them from the side of a road in the middle of Bumfuck, Maryland, after Lena had convinced Ava to join a group of strangers on a spontaneous road trip to New York. The car broke down before they even made it there. The guys turned out to be harmless—luckily—but it could’ve gone so very wrong.

And those were just the highlights.

There were countless other times Lena had sweet-talked Ava into some harebrained scheme.

Sure, Ava was an adult, perfectly capable of making her own decisions. But she was also too damn trusting. And after our mom died and our father turned out to be a fucking psycho, it had been my job to protect her.

And in my book, Lena was a bad influence. Period.

Clara’s lips twitched. “Does this pain in your ass have a name?”

I took a slow sip of beer before answering with a clipped, “Lena.”

“Hmmm.” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “Lena is very pretty.”

I scoffed. “Most flesh-eating succubi are. It’s how they trap you.”

The mere thought of Lena made my jaw tighten.

Yeah, she was beautiful. But so were wolfsbane and blue-ringed octopi—gorgeous things that hid deadly poison. In Lena’s case, her venom came in the form of a razor-sharp tongue and a stubborn streak a mile wide.

Most men were too dazzled by the curves and the big hazel eyes to see past them. But not me.

I knew better.

The poor idiots who’d fallen for her at Thayer were proof enough that getting too close was a mistake. I had no interest in becoming one of them, nor did I have any desire to entertain whatever game she seemed to enjoy playing.

“I’ve never seen you this worked up over a woman,” Clara mused, her expression morphing into outright delight. “Wait till I tell the other nurses.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

The nurses’ station had a gossip network that put Gossip Girl to shame. Once a rumor started, it spread through the hospital like wildfire.

“I am not worked up, and there’s nothing to tell.” My tone was firm as I shut down the conversation before Clara could dig any deeper. The last thing I wanted was to waste another second talking about Lena Ambrose. “If you’re looking for something actually newsworthy, here’s something—I finally picked a destination for my vacation.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “That’s nowhere near as interesting as your love life. Half the nurses are in love with you. I don’t get it.”

“It’s because I’m a catch.”

It wasn’t arrogance if it was true. Still, I had a firm rule—never hook up with anyone at the hospital. I didn’t shit where I ate.

“Humble, too,” she quipped, but at least she dropped the subject of Lena and took the bait. “Alright, I’ll bite. Where are you going?”

This time, my grin was genuine. “New Zealand.”

I’d been debating between New Zealand for bungee jumping and South Africa for cage diving with sharks, but last night, I finally made up my mind and booked my tickets.

Medical residents had notoriously brutal schedules, but emergency medicine was slightly better than surgery. My shifts were a mix of eight and twelve hours, with a mandatory day off every six days and four blocks of five-day breaks spread throughout the year. The tradeoff? When we were on shift, we worked nonstop.

But I didn’t mind.

Busy was good. Busy kept my mind off things I didn’t want to think about.

I was pumped for my first vacation of the year. I’d scored a week off in the spring, and I could already picture it—crisp skies, snow-capped mountains, the pure adrenaline rush of free-falling in one of my favorite adventure sports.

"Shut up," Clara groaned. "I'm so jealous. Which hikes are you doing?"

I dove into my well-researched itinerary, rattling off plans until the bartender returned and stole her attention. Not wanting to cockblock—or pussyblock, in this case—I focused on my drink and the Wizards vs. Raptors game.

I was about to order another beer when a soft voice interrupted me.

“Is this seat taken?”

I turned to find the blonde from earlier standing close enough for me to see the freckles on her nose. Habit kicked in, and I gave her a lazy smile. She blushed.

“It’s all yours.”

The whole hookup routine was second nature by now. Buy her a drink, ask questions, listen just enough, brush a hand against hers to establish contact. It used to be exciting, but now? It felt automatic.

"...want to be a vet…"

I nodded, fighting a yawn. What the hell was wrong with me? Robin was hot, clearly interested—her hand on my thigh made that obvious. But even though I usually found something interesting in any conversation, I was struggling.

Lately, everything felt like a drag. Parties were the same old thing. Hookups felt empty. Dates were chores. The only time I felt anything was in the ER.

I glanced at Clara, still flirting with the bartender, who looked completely enamored.

"...can't decide between a Pomeranian or a Chihuahua…" Robin went on.

"Pomeranians sound nice." I checked my watch for show. "Hey, sorry to cut this short, but I have to pick up my cousin from the airport." Not my best excuse, but it worked.

Her face fell. "Oh, okay. Maybe we can meet up sometime." She scribbled her number on a napkin. "Call me."

I gave a noncommittal smile—I hated making promises I wouldn’t keep.

On my way out, I mouthed Have fun at Clara. She smirked before turning back to the bartender.

It was my fastest exit from a bar in a while, but I wasn’t mad about it. Clara and I always split when we got... distracted. Now I just had to figure out where to go.

It was too early to head home, but I wasn’t about to risk running into Robin at another bar.

Screw it. I’d finish watching the game at the dive near my place. Beer and TV were beer and TV, no matter where. Hopefully, the metro was on time.

I turned the corner toward the metro and slowed when I spotted a flash of red hair and a familiar purple coat in an alley beside a shuttered shoe store.

Lena? She’d left twenty minutes ago. What the hell was she still doing here?

Then I saw the gun in her hand—pointed at a scruffy, bearded man in an oversized black coat.

"What the fuck?" My voice echoed down the empty street. Maybe I’d dozed off at the bar and woken up in the Twilight Zone, because none of this made sense.

Lena flicked a glance my way but kept her focus on the guy.

"He tried to mug me," she said flatly.

Beanie glared at her but stayed quiet.

I pinched my temple, hoping to snap myself out of this bizarre scene. No luck. "Let me guess—that's his gun?"

Honestly, I wasn’t shocked Lena had flipped the script on her would-be mugger. If she ever got kidnapped, the kidnapper would probably return her out of sheer frustration.

"Yes, Sherlock." Her grip tightened on the weapon. "I called the cops. They’re on their way."

Right on cue, sirens wailed in the distance.

Beanie tensed, his eyes darting in panic.

"Don't even think about it," Lena warned. "I don’t bluff."

"She’s not kidding," I added. "Once, she nailed a guy in the ass with a Smith & Wesson because he stole her chips." I lowered my voice conspiratorially. "She takes hangry to another level."

Lena's mouth twitched, but she kept her expression stern.

Beanie’s eyes widened. "You serious?" He glanced between us. "Wait… how do you two know each other? You banging?"

Lena and I recoiled in sync.

Either he was trying to distract us or make me vomit. If it was the latter, he was dangerously close.

"I would never." Lena scoffed, waving at me dismissively. "Like I would ever touch that."

Beanie squinted at me. "What's wrong with him?"

"I wouldn't let you touch me if you paid off my med school loans," I snapped.

Even if Lena Ambrose were the last woman on earth, I still wouldn’t sleep with her.

She ignored me. "You know the saying, ‘the bigger the ego, the smaller the dick’?" She turned to Beanie. "Yeah, that applies to him."

Beanie winced. "Damn. That sucks. Sorry, man."

A vein throbbed in my temple. I was about to tell her I’d rather bathe in bleach than let her near me, but a car door slammed.

A cop the size of the Hulk stepped out, gun drawn. "Freeze! Drop your weapon!"

I groaned.

For fuck’s sake.

Should’ve left when I had the chance.

Now I was definitely missing the rest of the game.