Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
~JOSIE~
G od, I’m just tired all the way to my bones. I love being a nurse. I’ve known since I was a little girl that I wanted to work with patients, but some days, it just kicks my ass.
Or, maybe I should say nights. Because I work the night shift in the Seattle General emergency room, and there is never a dull moment.
Especially on nights like last night—on a full moon and Halloween.
There were moments I couldn’t tell the difference between the fake blood and the real stuff—which can really be an obstacle to a girl’s job.
“Good times,” I say on a sigh as I start the car and lean my head back on the seat for just a minute, enjoying the quiet as the sound of the radio fills my car, and my mind empties of last night’s chaos.
She’ll change your life.
You’ll never let her go.
She’ll become your wife.
Josie, you’re the one, so…
I sit up straight and stare at the radio in shock.
“I know this song.”
Images immediately fill my head: Brax and me in the bathtub; him sitting across from me while playing his guitar and singing the song he wrote for me.
This song.
“This is the number-one-requested song this week here at KPTY Pop Radio, and I’m excited to welcome Brax Adler himself into the booth with me. Hey, man.”
“Thanks for having me.”
God, I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Smooth as silk and wrapped in sin. Brax has the voice of them all.
He could melt a girl’s panties off with one little whisper.
I should know. In the three years I was with him, I hardly ever had my panties on.
“I love that this song is getting nationwide attention, Brax. You must be thrilled.”
“It’s pretty dope, yeah, man. The guys and I are stoked.”
“You’ve been a mainstay in the Seattle music scene for a few years now, and I have to tell you, we’re all rooting for you.”
“I appreciate that, thank you.”
“Now, let’s talk about My Girl. Who wrote the song?”
“I wrote it a few years ago,” Brax answers.
“Is it about someone, or is it a work of fiction?”
My heart stutters as I hold my breath and chew on my bottom lip.
Me. He wrote it for me.
“Well, I wrote it for my girlfriend at the time,” Brax admits. “But, she dumped me.”
“What?” I demand, not even hearing the DJ’s response. “You little liar. You backstabbing piece of crap. That’s not how it happened, and you know it!”
I shut the radio off and pull out of my parking space, fuming.
After all the shit that man pulled, now he’s going to lie on the radio?
I shouldn’t expect anything less, really.
I’m still pissed when I pull into the garage of the little townhouse that I share with my twin sister. When I walk into the kitchen and hear the radio playing, Brax’s stupid, sexy voice flowing through the speakers, I narrow my eyes on Maddie.
“Why are you listening to this?”
“I wondered if you’d heard it,” she says with a cringe and taps the screen of her phone to shut it off. “Just ignore him. He’s an idiot.”
“But I didn’t dump him,” I insist as I open the fridge and rummage around for my dinner. It may be six in the morning, but it’s dinnertime for me. I pull out all the makings for a salad and baked chicken and start chopping veggies on the island.
“I’m not sure you should have a knife in your hand when you’re this pissed off,” Maddie says, backing away slowly while eyeing the knife.
“You know what really pisses me off?” I ask and point the sharp end of the blade at her. “He could have just said, ‘ Oh, it just didn’t work out with her ,’ or something just as vague. Instead, the prick lied.”
“Par for the course with that guy, right?”
“No. He wasn’t a liar when we were together. I don’t know why he’s starting a life of deception now. It’s weird.”
“Okay, I think you need to forget about Br—He Who Shall Not Be Named,” she amends at my cold stare, “and tell me about your night. Were you busy?”
“Full moon on Halloween? Yes, we were busy.”
“You see the best stuff,” Maddie says as she sits on the stool and watches me get my chicken ready to go into the oven. “My job isn’t that exciting.”
“You’re an accountant,” I remind her. “If you saw blood and guts at your job, that would be a red flag.”
My sister snorts and nods. “True. And, unlike you , blood makes me sick. Okay, I have to go into the office, but I should be home around noon since it’s Friday. I’m taking a half-day in case you want to hang out or something.”
“Hopefully, I’ll be passed out until about five. I work again tonight.”
“I’ll be quiet then,” she says with a wink. “Sleep well, and don’t let Brax get to you. He’s old news. Who cares if he’s suddenly famous? It doesn’t impact you at all.”
“Right,” I reply as I check on the chicken. “You’re right. Have a good day.”
“See you,” she says with a wave and grabs her travel mug full of coffee, then walks out to the garage.
When I finish putting my dinner together, I carry it into the living room and turn on the TV, flipping through the DVR recordings until I find the show I’ve been watching. I hit play for last night’s episode.
Maybe some Montana cowboys will keep my brain occupied.
Two hours and a tub of ice cream later, I turn off the TV and set my dirty dishes in the dishwasher, then make my way to my bedroom.
Maddie has the main bedroom with a huge closet and en suite bathroom.
I don’t care at all that my bedroom is smaller. I mostly own scrubs anyway. What do I need a big closet for? Even the smaller hall bath suits me fine.
After a quick shower, I pull the black-out blinds on the windows and burrow down into the covers, exhausted.
And then, the phone rings.
“Shit, I forgot to put it on do not disturb,” I mutter, reaching over for my cell and frowning when I see my dad’s name on the screen. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Are you sleeping?”
“Not yet.”
“I need your help. I cut my hand pretty good, and your mother insists that I need stitches.”
I sigh and push the covers off me. “I’ll grab my stuff and be on my way in just a second. Cover it and apply pressure so you stop the bleeding.”
“Yeah, I am. It’s probably not that bad.”
“I’ll be there in a few.”
I disconnect and sigh. I’m so tired, but he’s my dad. I’d do anything for him.
Caleb Montgomery isn’t my biological father, but he adopted my sister and me when he married our mom and is my father in every way that matters. I love him more than just about anyone in the world.
I change into jeans and a sweatshirt, grab my kit that has all my first-aid supplies in it, and set off to Mom and Dad’s place. Because of the time of day, I make it in about twenty minutes.
“Hello?” I call out after walking into the house.
“Back here,” Mom yells back.
They’re in the kitchen, standing over the sink, and Dad has a green kitchen towel pressed to the back of his hand.
At least, I think it used to be green—it’s pretty red with blood right now.
“What happened?” I ask as I set my bag on the table and cross to him.
“I was making a table and had an incident with the saw.”
“On the back of your hand?”
“I’m talented,” he says with a wink.
I pull the towel away and then cover it again, jerking back a bit in surprise.
“Geez, Dad, you cut the hell out of this. I’d say you should go to the urgent care to see if they need to stitch you up.”
“Told you,” Mom says brightly. “I wanted to take him to urgent care, but he just grunted.”
Dad’s eyes narrow on my mom, and I can only shake my head.
He may try to seem intimidating—and as a former Navy SEAL, he is intimidating to most. But he’s a huge softie with us.
“Not going to the damn urgent care. Just fix it up, and it’ll be fine.”
I blow out a breath and then nod.
“Give me five to get my stuff together.”
“Do you want something to eat?” Mom asks.
“No, thanks, I had dinner. Okay, hold still. It might hurt a little.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. It’s a hell of a cut.”
“It’s fine ,” Dad repeats and shakes his stubborn head. “Just get it done so I can go back to work.”
Patching him up takes about twenty minutes. He hardly makes a peep at all, and I know for a fact that it must hurt like a son of a bitch.
When I’m done, I kiss his cheek. “You have to clean this daily. I’ll check in on you, too.”
“I’ll be fine,” he says, but I shake my head at him.
“No, you stubborn man, you do not want this to get infected. The last time I checked, you didn’t have an RN after your name. Stop being bullheaded and take advantage of the fact that your favorite daughter is a nurse.”
“I don’t think I raised my kids to speak to me this way.”
I smirk and kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”
“That’s better.”
“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? What about a candy bar?” Mom asks.
“Nah, I’m good. I’m going home to sleep. I have to work tonight. Be careful with that hand.”
“Yeah, yeah. You sure are bossy,” Dad says.
“I learned from you.”
“You’re staring off into space.”
I blink when my co-worker, Beth, nudges my shoulder.
“I got roughly three hours of sleep today,” I reply with a yawn. “But this is my Friday.”
“Lucky. It’s my Monday.”
“At least you weren’t here for the madness last night,” I reply.
“I heard it was nuts. But thanks for covering for me,” she says with a smile. “I had fun taking the kids trick-or-treating.”
“I’m glad. Okay, I just got a call from an ambulance. MVA.” That’s code for a motor vehicle accident. “Two men coming in, one from each vehicle, two ambulances. One guy is just beat up. The other has a bad head injury. Let’s get two rooms ready.”
We jump up and get to work, readying two rooms for the accident victims. I let the on-call doctor know what’s coming in, and he assigns two ER residents to take the patients.
By the time the first ambulance pulls in, we’re ready to go.
“White male,” the medic calls out as we hustle him into a room, “thirty-four. Contusions to the head and shoulders.”
We’re bustling about, getting the man transferred from the gurney to a bed, grabbing IV supplies as the doctor rapid-fires questions at the patient.
When the person on the cot answers, I stop cold.
I know that voice.
I turn to look him in the face, and he seems just as surprised to see me.
His brown eyes are glassy, full of shock, but when he makes eye contact, he seems to calm just a little.
“Brax?”
“Hey, Josie.”