Love Sick

Grace

JULY, YEAR 1

Our educational series, called didactics, is a five-hour protected period on Thursday mornings. We give each other lectures over various topics, learn practical skills, receive wisdom from our attendings, and go over high-risk obstetrical cases and gynecologic surgery. The definition of didactic is “in the manner of a teacher, particularly so as to treat someone in a patronizing way.” Most accurately, it’s a five-hour pimping marathon, and as interns, all the questions fall to us first.

Luckily, I study a lot, so I’m not nervous about that part.

Meeting new people, however…

Since I fled the residency mixer before I met anyone, I’m walking into this blind. A ball of tingles and flutters expands in my stomach as I climb the stairs to our clinic space on the second floor of the medical offices. Perhaps the Starbucks venti blonde latte in my hand isn’t the best choice for my anxiety, but it’s good for my soul.

The conference room is messy like the rest of the resident areas. Broken dioramas and instruments clutter the tables, as well as flyers and candy from pharmaceutical reps. Our malfunctioning laparoscopic simulator stands in the corner, gathering dust. One wall is cluttered with resident posters from previous conferences, and the wall of windows across from it overlooks a Best Western. The projector screen glows with a classic Windows desktop—green fields and blue skies.

A million. That’s how many chairs are in this room. Chairs around the table. Chairs lined at the room’s periphery. Chairs stacked by the door. All are empty except for two at the center of the table.

Two women interrupt their conversation with shy smiles.

“Hi,” one says, pushing purple hair behind her ear.

“Hey.” I settle next to the other—a woman with dark skin, black hair and large dark eyes. “I’m .”

“I’m Alesha Lipton,” says the first.

“Raven Washington,” says the other.

Fellow interns! The ball of flutters in my stomach eases. “Oh my gosh. I wanted to meet you guys the other night, but I had to leave the mixer early. You don’t look like your pictures!” I face Raven. “I heard you’ve got a son, yes?”

“Yes.” She smiles and shows me a picture of a small boy on her phone. “Monte.”

“So cute!” I lift my gaze to Alesha. “And I heard you’re a genius.”

She snorts. “Hardly.” Her chair rolls closer, squeezing the three of us together. “I was wondering where you were the other night. Thought it was weird you’d miss it.”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

Do they know about the rumor?

Raven nods. “Pre-intern jitters?”

“Something like that.” I sip my latte and my soul squees in happiness. Yeah, definitely a good choice.

Alesha unpacks her computer and notebook before her brown eyes flick to mine. Those are some enviable eyelashes. What mascara does she use? “Well, you missed out on a wild night,” she says. “Our attendings drink like fish. I beat Dr. Chen at beer pong.”

I snort. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope. Me and Julian. Have you met him yet?”

Managing to hold my smile despite gritted teeth, I shake my head. “No. Well, I mean, for a second I did. At the hospital.”

So Julian was busy ingratiating himself to our attendings while I cried over false accusations. Awesome. Guess he couldn’t have felt too bad for me. Any lingering guilt at my rudeness toward him disappears. I knew my dislike of him was on point.

Until this moment, I couldn’t decide if I was more embarrassed that I chose him to blow up on at the residency mixer or irritated that he called me out on it. Now I know. I’m grade A irritated.

Regardless, if our antagonism at the hospital earlier this week is any indication, he’s pretty peeved at me, too. We’ve established ourselves as adversaries. Joy.

Alesha whistles. “Boy’s got game.”

“I lost in the first round.” Raven leans toward me and laughs. “And I even played with water.”

A couple of older residents enter the room.

Alesha glances at them, then lowers her voice. “Let’s go on an intern date this week, okay?”

Raven and I nod.

A brunette resident sits next to me—I think she’s a third-year—complaining about a recent patient encounter. “Arguing about the Tdap shot again.” She adopts a whiny voice. “‘I don’t want to put anything in my body. Would you do it if you were pregnant?’” The resident sighs heavily and rubs her forehead. “Do I think this vaccine is safe? Yes. Have I gotten it myself? Also yes.” She holds up a finger. “But my body is not a temple. I do questionable things with it. I put questionable things into it. Don’t go by me, bitch!”

The resident settling beside her chuckles. “My body is basically a fast-food drive-thru and a twenty-four-hour liquor store rolled into one. With a heavy dose of caffeine.”

Brunette throws her head back. “Get whooping cough, lady. I don’t care. I’m too busy worrying about this girl in the room next to yours who’s tweaked out on meth.”

I can’t stifle my laugh and both girls glance at us, wide-eyed.

“Oh. Hi. Interns.” Brunette pastes on a smile. “Sorry. Don’t listen to me. I promise I’m not always this salty. I’m Mila.”

I shake her hand. “.”

She makes no indication that my identity means anything, but her friend’s gaze sharpens on me and she waves. “I’m Ling.”

Raven and Alesha also introduce themselves as the room fills. I duck beneath the table to grab my computer from my bag. When I pop my head up, Julian is settling in the chair across from me. Cataclysmically dark eyes meet mine as I sit to my full height.

My hackles rise.

His hand is curled around a travel coffee mug, one long finger tapping. “Good morning, Sapphire.”

Every muscle in my body goes rigid, and I struggle to keep the glare from surfacing. His stupid mouth lifts on one side—a knowing smirk hidden behind a sip of coffee. He plays the part of a polite colleague while burying tiny thorns under my skin on the sly.

All right. Throw down your gauntlet, Julian. I’m ready.

I toss out my prettiest fake smile. “I go by , remember?”

The starless void of his eyes sparks once, then goes dark. “Right. I keep forgetting.”

“It must be so hard to remember, what with all the gossiping you’ve been doing.”

His eyes narrow, mouth tensing.

Alesha glances between us, skeptical brows scrunched. “I thought you said—you guys definitely seem like you’ve met.”

I blink. “Oh, um—”

“Good morning, Alesha. Raven.” Julian gives them a smile that actually touches his eyes.

Alesha leans across the table toward him. “Ready for round two this weekend?”

He chuckles. “Only if you bring your A game.”

What the hell is this? He’s nice to everyone else!

“Okay, let’s get started.” Dr. Ryan, our youngest attending, takes a seat at the head of the table and sorts through some papers. “We’ll start with the process of normal labor…”

Settling in to take notes, I open a blank document and start typing. After his lecture, Dr. Ryan turns to the interns, pelting us with questions. It’s not a free-for-all. He addresses each of us in turn, prodding deeper into our knowledge until the answers become mysteries.

Alesha handles herself best, managing to cite the physiologic changes of the cardiovascular system in pregnancy with an impressive and almost scary level of accuracy. We stare at her, wide-eyed.

She lifts her shoulder like it ain’t no thing. “I have a good memory.”

To my utter delight, Julian stumbles over his answers after I shine with mine.

Ha! Justice!

When the onslaught is over, we lock eyes, and I raise one eyebrow, unable to contain the smirk.

He cocks his head, unsmiling. “You proud of yourself over there?”

People rise for bathroom breaks and coffee refills, but Julian and I stay glued to our chairs, locked in a staring contest.

“I am.” I give him an innocent smile. “Are you?”

“What is that ?” He points at my mouth. “You think that smile’s fooling anyone?”

“Whatever could you mean?” I feign a confused look. “I’m merely smiling at my coworker.”

A dark rumble that can hardly be called laughter emerges from his throat, connecting directly to receptors in my skin. Pinpricks wake, almost painful in their recognition of him, like my autonomic nervous system understands something I don’t.

Danger! Run away!

His finger taps against his coffee mug, gaze burning into mine. “You’re gonna be a problem, aren’t you?”

“Don’t think you can handle it?”

His face subtly resculpts itself, forming a challenging smile detectable only in his eyes. “I think you’ve underestimated me.” He pauses to sip his coffee. “ Sapphire .”

* * *

Sunday night, Alesha invites me to Mi Cocina, a popular Mexican restaurant with the best drinks on the planet. I slide into the circle booth beside her. She’s dressed in a multicolored flowy dress, very Boho chic. My shorts and racerback are out of place next to her.

“This is a huge booth for just the two of us,” I say.

She snorts. “Oh, no. I invited all the interns. I’m dubbing this our first Group Therapy session. Probably the first of many.”

Raven slides in beside Alesha, eyes ringed dark. “So tired, but need chips and guac.”

“How was your first twenty-four?” I reach for a tortilla chip.

“Awesome. Exhausting.” She perks up. “But I did my first C-section!”

My pulse flutters. “Really? Tell me about it.”

“Nuh-uh.” Sitting between us, Alesha waves her fingers in front of our chests. “You can explain that later. I need to know what’s going on with you and Julian before him and Kai get here. I told them to meet us in—” she checks her phone “—fifteen minutes.”

I feign a laugh. “Wh-what do you mean?”

She levels a stare at me.

Um. So what do I do here? It’s not exactly classy to throw shade at a new coworker. I don’t want to be seen as a gossip. During my indecision, the server approaches to ask for our drink orders. Alesha and I order Mambo Taxis. Raven asks for water and a side of guacamole.

“Fourteen minutes,” Alesha says, tapping pointedly on the polished table in front of me.

“Fine!” I scratch at a dent in the wood and take six of her valuable minutes to explain the apparent rumor as well as my first—and second—encounter with Julian Santini.

Our drinks arrive in the meantime, and Alesha takes a sip of hers before holding out a hand to stop me. “Wait a sec. They said you specifically got into the program by sleeping with someone? Or just someone got their spot, and they assumed it was you?”

“Does it matter?” I sip my drink. The limey-sangria goodness warms my spirits. “They all assume it’s me, so—”

“Yeah. That sucks, girl. I’m sorry.” Alesha rubs my shoulder.

Raven nods. “That’s unfair, but it’ll blow over. All rumors do.”

I smile. “Thanks for not asking if it’s true. It isn’t, in case you were wondering.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Alesha says. “That would never get through GME.”

“I never doubted it,” Raven says around a mouthful of chips and guac.

My smile widens. “Anyway, that’s why I don’t like Julian.”

Both women stay silent, averting their stares to their plates.

I narrow my eyes at them. “What?”

Alesha swallows. “Well, you did call him a misogynist when he was only trying to help. I mean, you know how he got in, right?”

I shrug, ignoring the judgmental voice that whispers he must have done something mind-blowing for a DO to get in this program.

“He coauthored several papers on disparities in women’s health care. One was published in a national journal.”

My mouth falls open. Hang on. Am I going to have to repeal everything I assumed about this guy? Being wrong isn’t really in my top-five favorite things.

“How do you know that?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Word gets around, you know?”

I cover my squirmy discomfiture with a snort. “Well, if he’s not a misogynist, he’s still a douche.”

Alesha grins wide, then laughs. “This is going to be fun, huh?”

A minute later, the booth jostles.

Julian scoots in beside me. “You think you can tolerate my proximity? Or should I sit at another table?”

I meet his dark eyes. “If I said yes, would you move?”

“Eh. And let you win?”

My arms cross of their own volition. “I can deal with you, if you can deal with me.”

He shoots a longing glance at the door, but sighs when Kai sits beside him, effectively trapping him beside me.

“I guess we’re doing this,” he says.

I scoot away from him. “Just don’t touch me. You have knobby-looking elbows.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Now who’s judging based on appearance, Sapphire?”

Would it be rude to slap him? “It’s .”

“Oh, yeah,” he deadpans. “I forgot.”

The three others at our table exchange looks, but Alesha laughs in silence. “Oh yeah. This is going to be a fun year.”

AUGUST, YEAR 1

Butterflies smother me the night before my first day of L&D in August.

Julian has regaled us of the thrilling adventures he experienced last month and my jealousy has been…well, a little difficult to tolerate. The guy’s a show-off, and I’m ready for my turn. His first shift started with a crash section and he primaried it.

Mine tomorrow begins with a scheduled one—nice and controlled. Perfect for me.

Alesha is starting on L&D at our other hospital, so we quiz each other over FaceTime on surgical steps and fetal heart tones.

I take a breath. “We’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah. For sure, girl. We got this.” Alesha’s screen goes blurry as she checks a text, then she laughs.

“What?”

“The dorky boy sent me a gif of one of those Star Wars dudes wishing me luck tomorrow.”

My face contorts into a scowl despite my efforts to remain neutral. “Julian?”

Alesha’s face pops into view. “He’s actually really nice, y-poo.”

I tap into my messaging app. No new messages. He’s a petty man, our Julian.

At 7:00 a.m., I slather on the surgical antiseptic and head into the OR, gowning after my attending and senior resident, Aislin Hegar. One step toward the OR table and my attending, Dr. Levine, directs me to the first assistant spot.

I pause. “Oh, I thought—”

Gowned and gloved and masked, blue eyes barely visible behind a plastic shield, Dr. Levine raises an eyebrow. “You thought what?”

“Nothing, sir.” I dutifully move to the opposite side of the table and stew in jealousy over each cut made by my senior.

Dr. Levine points out all the steps as Aislin makes them. It takes everything in me not to snap, “I know!”

Afterward, I put in orders and dictate the operative note of the surgery I didn’t perform while fighting a nagging twitch of anxiety. Is this about the rumor? Is he punishing me?

Aislin, bubbly and bright, grins. “You’ll be ready for the next one now.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

But I don’t get to do the next one, either. Or the one after that.

Several days pass before I reach the conclusion that my attendings don’t trust me. They hold my hand through every procedure, quick to take over if I make the slightest wrong move.

On Friday of my first week, I sit through a lecture from Dr. Chen about how Pitocin—the drug we use to induce labor, prevent postpartum hemorrhages and generally survive on L&D—is the most dangerous drug we use. He orders Aislin to teach me all the Pit protocols.

“Do they always hover this much?” I ask her when he leaves.

She nods. “It’s only because it’s your first week, and they can tell you’re nervous. Don’t worry about it. They’ll ease up. Now, come here so I can show you the Pit doses.”

During a rare slow moment, I pull out my phone, opening the group message with my fellow interns, dubbed Pit It or Quit It.

Me: I need my people. Anyone free tonight for a rant session?

Alesha: Yesssss Group Therapy!

Raven: Oh that sounds fun. I’m in.

Kai: Hellz ya. Mico? Mambo Taxis?

Me: !!!!

Several minutes pass before my phone buzzes again.

Alesha: Julian??? wru

Julian: Do I have to? ICU rotation is sucking the life from my soul. I need sleep.

Alesha: Yes. You have to.

Julian: Fine. But you aren’t getting charming Julian.

Staring at my phone, I snort so loud that Aislin asks me if something is wrong.

In my world, Julian Santini doesn’t have a charming side. He’s so un-charming that my ovaries cross themselves from fear whenever he’s close, despite his tingle-inducing stare and touchable jawline.

He’s proof that vile things can wrap themselves in glitzy, distracting packages.

I’ve begrudgingly accepted him as part of my friend group, but he isn’t my friend . He’s an unavoidable evil that exists in the background of my life. Like elevator music.

I’d rather Julian didn’t show at dinner tonight—especially if he’s grumpy—but even if he does, no version of him can be worse than what I’ve already experienced.

At lunch, I sit with Aislin and one of her best friends—an internal med resident. She’s the chief on ICU, so we’re surrounded by residents from her department, most of whom I’ve never met.

I keep to myself as they chat, but a voice behind me makes my neck twitch. That elevator music grows a bit louder.

“It’s really not a problem, Rebecca,” Julian says. “I’m happy to help.”

He and a blond girl approach our table, both in navy scrubs and white coats. His smile is friendly and bright.

She melts as she stares at him. “But they were so heavy. Seriously, Julian. Thank you.”

“What’d he do?” Aislin mumbles around a mouthful of apple—the only edible option in the hospital cafeteria today.

“Oh, he helped me take all those copies of Harrison’s to the clinic.” Blondie beams at Julian. “All thirty of them.”

Aislin laughs. “Aren’t those books like fifteen pounds each?”

My blood slowly turns to battery acid, and I’m sure I’m shooting daggers his way. This is the worst part of hating him—everyone else loves him. To others, he’s polite and pleasant. Hard worker. Never complains. Kind.

Almost makes me wish we didn’t start on the wrong foot. Almost . Not quite, though. I’ve seen his dark side.

Aislin gives him a teasing punch on the arm. “Such a gentleman, Dr. Santini.”

Julian’s gaze touches on me, but skirts right past. “I try.”

“Not that hard,” I mutter with a snort.

He doesn’t hear me. Or maybe he ignores me. Who cares?

When he leaves, Rebecca flutters. “Isn’t he so nice?” She sighs, already half in love.

I swallow down the taste of vomit in my mouth to smile like I agree.

She perks up. “Do you have his number?”

A gleeful witch inside cackles as I give it to her, casually mentioning that he’s really into texting all day to chitchat. And cat memes.

End of shift rolls around, and I shuffle to the call room to sign the patients out to the second-year resident, Lexie Zavanelli. Aislin gives me a “Good work today” before she leaves, and I take my time gathering my materials. Our call room is cluttered with books and surgical instruments, but it boasts a full-size bed previous residents stole from the neonatologist’s call room when they closed the NICU a few years ago. Lexie curls up in it as I shove papers into my backpack.

“I hope I get some sleep tonight,” she says.

“Nothing’s active. The odds are in your favor.”

“Yeah. I’m not looking forward to busy nights at Vincent.”

Our training is divided between two hospitals. Lower acuity cases are here at Texas University Medical Center. High-risk cases go to St. Vincent, a regional trauma center on the other side of town, where Alesha’s currently stationed.

I zip my backpack with fervor, giving an aggressive jiggle as it catches on papers inside.

Lexie sits up. “Something wrong?”

The desk’s rolling chair swivels when I collapse into it. With the heels of my palms pressed into my eyes, sparks burst into my vision. “I feel like they aren’t letting me do anything, and Julian had all these stories of all the amazing things he did last month. I’m just—I’m worried I’ve done something that makes them think they need to watch me. Like I’m unsafe.”

“Well, you are unsafe.” Lexie smiles. “Think about it. If they told you to run it all on your own, would you be able to do it? They’re good doctors, and they’re trying to make you one, too. Soak up everything and if they take the time to teach you something, savor it.”

At her friendly gaze, a sliver of doubt breaks away and dissolves. “Thanks. That helps.”

In the parking lot of the restaurant, I scrutinize my appearance and groan at the dried blood on my scrub pants from my deliveries earlier. If blood was a statement piece, I’d be so on brand this week. I haven’t made it home with clean scrubs once.

At the hostess stand, the universe plays its usual tricks and I run into Julian, his navy ICU scrubs without a speck of bodily fluid anywhere.

Like he’s handing out favors, he gives me the fake smile. I really hate that smile. His real smile is subtle. Refined. This fraudulent counterpart makes me roll my eyes. His dark hair is flawlessly messy, and I want to part it down the middle and stick a pair of Dwight Schrute glasses on him.

“Hello, Sapphire.”

I take a cleansing breath. “You know it’s .”

His brow creases, deceptive and false. “But Sapphire’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Not the name I go by.” I glare at him.

“Hmm. I guess I forgot.”

“Do you have dementia, Julian? Anterograde amnesia? Or is it just a lack of intelligence?”

His dark eyes meet mine, capturing me the way they always do, and a pulse wakes in my temples. He doesn’t blink, and the various shades of brown in his irises wink in and out of existence. “It’s that last one. Didn’t you hear I was the DO pity hire?”

My attention drops to the badge at his chest, the one he’s forgotten to remove.

Julian Santini, DO.

Few DOs make it into the residencies at TUMC. Vague speculations about him and the two DOs in other programs emerged in the beginning, but his universal likability—to everyone but me—outweighed any hearsay early on.

Lucky him.

It isn’t that DOs are inherently worse. They’re just… I don’t want to say “less smart,” but—

Maybe my biases are showing. I refused to even apply to osteopathic schools. Their reputation as inferior was enough to steer me away.

But in the end, Julian had the same training as me. The letters after his name don’t really matter.

As I stare at those letters, he rips the badge off his chest, and his lightly stubbled jaw clenches. Hmm. What happened to you today?

Wait. Is that empathy blossoming in my chest? For Lucifer himself? No, no, no.

My fingers itch to shove him just to right the balance.

The hostess jerks me from that thought. “Er—two of you tonight?”

“No!” I step away from Julian. “There’s five of us.”

“Oh.” The hostess points toward the patio. “I think the others might be out there.”

We head that way, and I hold out my backpack. “You don’t want to carry my books for me?”

He shakes his head. “You appear to be managing fine on your own.”

“Oh, but I need a big strong man to help me…”

Snorting, he holds the door to the patio open for me. “You’d eat me alive if I tried.” As I brush past him, he adds, “Like a black widow.”

Nose in the air, I march toward our friends. “False. I am a beautiful and peaceful butterfly.”

His flat disbelieving stare nearly yanks out a laugh when we reach the table, but I manage to hold it in.

“Sorry I’m late.” Julian seats himself. “Sapphire made a scene at the hostess stand.”

Outrage swells as I settle across from him. “I did not! You—” I take a cleansing breath. “You know what? Not today, Julian.”

Alesha laughs. Kai gives me a side hug. I can barely pay attention to them.

Does Julian take pleasure in driving me mad?

The lift at the corner of his mouth does something weird to my insides. I’m choosing to interpret it as wrath. Or—offense? Whatever it is, it’s very…warm.

He pulls out his phone and grimaces.

An evil grin spreads over my face. “Someone bothering you, Julian?”

His head jerks up, sudden understanding painted over his expression. “Did you give her my number?”

The giggle is too hard to suppress. I’m Ursula cackling at Ariel’s stupidity. Bellatrix Lestrange celebrating Sirius Black’s death.

He bristles. “You are—”

“A genius?”

He scowls. “The worst.”

The others sit quiet, stares ping-ponging between us.

“Just block her number, if you hate it so much.” I shrug.

His lips part, and he shakes his head. “That is unbelievably rude.”

“Rude? Since when do you care about being rude? You—”

Alesha pats the table. “Now, children. Let’s get along tonight. Eat some queso.” She leans back in her chair to catch the server’s attention, lifting her Mambo Taxi and holding up three fingers.

A genuine smile flashes on Julian’s face. “Did you just buy me a drink?”

Why don’t I ever get smiles like that?

Because he hates you.

Oh yeah…

I don’t want his smiles, anyway.

“Who said I’m buying?” Alesha laughs at her own joke.

I turn to Raven and Kai, forcing myself to focus on something else. This stupid guy has hijacked my thoughts tonight, and I want them back. “What are you guys on again?” I ask.

“Clinic,” says Raven.

“Ah.” I gesture toward her slacks and blouse. “Explains the clothes.”

“I’m suffering with internal medicine.” Kai sucks down one drink and starts on his next. “Do you have any idea how much I hate hyponatremia? Rounds took five hours today.”

I groan.

“So, what did you need Group Therapy for?” Raven asks.

Before I can answer, the server sets a fresh Mambo Taxi before me, and I bounce in my seat. “Heaven!” I face Raven after taking a large gulp. “I’m sort of getting tired of the handholding. I want them to trust me.”

“You strike me as a girl who likes a little handholding.” Julian shoots a scathing glance my way.

Under the table where no one can see, I flip him off with both hands. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Your month was awesome, and they let you do it all.”

“Right. A misogynist like me could never understand.”

My eyes narrow. “God, you’re never going to let that go, are you? I only meant that it sounded like you got your hands dirty on day one, and they still haven’t even let me hold a scalpel.”

His scorching expression disappears. “Wait. They haven’t let you primary?”

I shake my head.

Brow wrinkled, he takes a sip of his drink. “That’s weird. I wonder why.”

Kai breaks the tension by leaning toward the middle of the table. “Do you think that server over there is single?”

Julian turns his attention to the chips in the middle of the table, scooping a liberal amount of queso. “Don’t bother. He’s been staring at Sapphire since she sat down.”

Kai slumps. “Of course.”

“It’s ,” I say under my breath, but I sneak a peek at the man in question. Damn, he has nice eyes. And arms.

The idea of him blooms through my brain, and I take it to its logical conclusion. He’d want sex, and I’d clam up.

It’s like fucking an ice queen.

The words haunt me. They probably wouldn’t still hurt so much if I hadn’t been foolishly in love with Matt when he said them.

I jerk my gaze from the server. Not worth it.

“See something you like, ?” Alesha asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

Kai sighs. “I do.”

I pat his arm. “You’re free to take your shot. I’ll be your wingwoman.”

His stoic face breaks into a smile. “You’re good people, y.”

The evening progresses without incident from there, and Julian stops antagonizing me. The dinner is exactly what I needed—to de-stress with my squad. Nothing has changed at work, but just knowing I have these people beside me in the trenches is enough to perk me up.

After food, I stretch. “Time to go?”

“Yeah.” Alesha lets out a yawn. “Vincent is kicking my ass.”

I’d almost forgotten Alesha was on L&D at the other hospital. “Do they let you primary over there?”

She drops her gaze, messing with her purse. “Um. Yeah. It’s not a big deal, though.”

My shoulders fall. Yes, it is.

Is it the rumors? How worried should I be about this?

Kai hangs back as we head toward the parking lot, making eyes at the server, who eyes him right back. Guess it wasn’t me he was staring at…

Alesha kisses Kai’s cheek as she passes. “If you screw that guy and it goes south, we will still be eating here on the reg. Just so you know.”

He gives a distracted, “Yeah, okay,” and goes in for the kill.

In the parking lot, Raven hugs me goodbye. “Cheer up, love. It’ll all turn out fine.”

I nod and slip into my car, cranking the volume. Singing is unadulterated stress relief, so I scroll through my phone and decide on my Epic Trailer Version playlist. I’m in the mood for some drama.

A mile down the road, I spy Julian’s truck behind me in the rearview mirror. What’s he doing? Is he…following me?

No. Surely not.

But I hop on the highway and exit with him still behind me. What is happening right now? When I turn into my apartment complex, and he follows, a confused tangle of emotions settles in my chest, part exasperation, part exhilaration.

His black monstrosity of a truck pulls in beside me.

Frazzled, I gather my things and slam my car door, stomping to the front of his truck. “Why are you following me?”

He shuts his door with more reasonable force. It beeps as it locks. “What are you talking about? I thought you were following me.”

With a scoff, I point at his truck. “You were behind me, Julian.”

“You sure?”

I grind my teeth. Audibly.

He flashes a smile at the ground and thumps his fist on his truck. “I wasn’t following you. I live here.”

“No. I live here.”

He glances over the entirety of the property around us, his face in eerie shadows cast by the streetlight overhead. “It’s an apartment complex. I think more than one person lives here.”

He can’t be serious. “You’ve lived here the whole time?” I ask.

He chews his gum, head cocked, scrutinizing me. “Yes, Sapphire . I’ve lived here for weeks.”

I gasp. “Does that mean it’s cursed?”

“I definitely cursed it.”

“I should probably move.” I spin and stride toward the stairs. But seriously. I can’t live in the same complex as him. What the heck?

“Would make my life more pleasant,” he mutters.

His footsteps follow me up the first flight, a not-unpleasant heat slipping down my spine as I imagine him inspecting my body.

“Did you know you have blood on your scrubs?” he asks.

I lurch to a stop at the landing, and he crashes into me. It knocks me forward into the handrail. He grabs it for balance, his other hand encircling my upper arm to steady me. For two full seconds, the length of his lean body presses against my back, and I learn the thin cotton of scrubs does nothing to hide the hardness of muscles or the heat of skin.

He isn’t large or brawny. I expected him to be a little soft, far less intimidating than the angular strength now tattooed into my memory.

He wrenches away. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

I turn, flushed from head to toe. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He clears his throat. “What floor are you?”

I point toward my apartment. “Second.”

He nods for me to precede him up the stairs. I hesitate at the landing, but he continues. “I’m on the third. Goodnight, Sapphire.”

He climbs the steps without hurry, at ease and straight-backed.

“It’s !” I call.

“Right.” He doesn’t look at me. “I’ll remember next time.”