Chapter 6
POV: Marina
The backyard smelled like charcoal, grilled meat, and nostalgia.
Jacob and my dad were arguing about soccer as they had never stopped. Claire was fussing over side dishes like this was a holiday instead of a random Sunday lunch. My mom kept touching my arm like she needed to reassure herself I was real and back.
And Brennan was everywhere.
Not literally following me—he wasn’t that obvious—but I felt him.
His presence had weight.
He laughed with my father, offered to help Jacob with the grill, listened when Claire started one of her endless stories. He was… gentle. Respectful. So different from the man who had pinned me to his mattress last night.
And somehow that contrast made him even more dangerous.
I kept pretending I didn’t notice the way his eyes tracked me.
Didn’t feel the warmth of his gaze on my back.
Didn’t remember exactly how his hands felt there.
“Brennan, sweetheart, don’t forget the corn,” Claire called.
“Yes, mom,” he answered instantly, moving to grab it.
His voice was soft with her. Different. Tender.
He listened when Jacob spoke, didn’t interrupt, nodded like every word mattered. He teased Alex like a brother, but never crossed a line.
He was commanding without being arrogant. Confident without being loud.
It was… unfairly attractive.
“So, Stokes,” Alex said, clapping Brennan on the shoulder. “You disappear for years and come back looking like a model for those ridiculous gym ads.”
Brennan laughed. “Jealous?”
“Always,” Alex admitted cheerfully. “But seriously, man, what the hell are they feeding you in the city?”
“Protein and regret,” Brennan deadpanned.
I snorted into my drink.
Claire was the one who noticed.
She squinted at Brennan as he reached for a plate.
“Brennan, honey, what happened to your neck?”
My brain shut off.
My heart tried to exit my body.
He froze for half a second, then casually touched the red mark.
“Oh,” he said lightly. “Nothing.”
Nothing.
I nearly choked on air.
Claire frowned. “It looks like someone scratched you. And your shoulder too—turn around.”
I wished the ground would swallow me whole.
Alex leaned closer, inspecting Brennan like a detective.
“Damn,” he laughed. “What were you doing, fighting a raccoon?”
Brennan’s eyes flicked to me.
Just for a second.
And I swear he enjoyed this.
He tugged his collar up. “Just a scratch.”
Claire gasped dramatically. “Brennan, you need to be more careful. You could get an infection.”
I forced a laugh that sounded suspiciously fake.
“He probably scratched himself,” I said too quickly.
Brennan’s brow lifted slightly.
Alex grinned. “Yeah, sure. Totally normal.”
He shot Brennan a sideways look.
“Hell of a night, Stokes.”
Brennan only smirked.
I wanted to die.
I felt his gaze again. Not teasing now. Just steady.
Like he knew exactly how flushed I was.
Exactly how my mind replayed last night every time I saw that mark.
I focused on my plate.
On my breathing.
On pretending my body wasn’t reacting.
“So, Marina,” Jacob said, smiling warmly, “how long are you staying?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “Work will decide.”
Brennan looked up. “You should stay.”
The way he said it—simple, certain—made my stomach flip.
Claire clapped her hands. “Yes! Stay! It’s been too quiet without you.”
I nodded, smiling, pretending this didn’t complicate everything.
Later, when everyone was distracted, Brennan passed me a drink.
“Still pretending?” he asked softly.
I didn’t look at him. “Yes.”
He leaned closer, voice low.
“You’re terrible at it.”
My fingers tightened around the glass.
But I didn’t answer.
The sun was already lower when people started saying their goodbyes. The yard looked like childhood again—plastic cups, laughter, the hum of familiarity.
Claire hugged me so tightly I almost cried.
“We missed you, Marina. Don’t disappear again,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” I promised.
Jacob squeezed my shoulder. “Good to have you back, kiddo.”
Then Brennan stepped forward.
He smelled like smoke, citrus soap, and something distinctly him.
His arms wrapped around me, warm and solid. Familiar in a way that felt dangerous now.
He held me a second longer than necessary.
Long enough for my body to remember everything.
I pressed my cheek against his chest without thinking.
His hand rested on my back, slow, grounding.
“See you soon,” he murmured near my ear.
I pulled back, meeting his eyes.
He smiled—soft, confident, unreadable.
“Don’t bet against it.”
Then he laughed lightly and stepped away like he hadn’t just undone me with four words.
Clara and Angela arrived an hour later with pastries and a dramatic need for details.
They sat at my kitchen table like prosecutors.
“So,” Clara said, crossing her arms. “Bar guy.”
Angela leaned forward. “Tell. Us. Everything.”
I stared at my coffee. “It was… a lot.”
Clara blinked. “A lot how?”
“I don’t know how to describe it.”
Angela smirked. “So you slept with him.”
I didn’t answer. Which was answer enough.
Clara gasped. “Oh my God. Was it good?”
“Good?” I echoed, then shook my head. “Good isn’t the word.”
They exchanged looks.
“It was… intense,” I said slowly. “I haven’t been with anyone in so long. And this was—”
“—a religious experience,” Angela finished.
I huffed a laugh. “Shut up.”
Clara grinned. “So you’re in trouble.”
“I’m not,” I said too fast. “It was one night.”
Angela raised a brow. “With the neighbor. The younger brother’s best friend. The childhood boy next door.”
“I know.”
Clara laughed. “You had lunch with him and his parents just right after sleeping with him.”
I took another sip of coffee and tried not to think about his arms around me.
“So,” Angela said, changing tone, “big day tomorrow.”
I nodded. “First day as attending. New hospital. New residents.”
Clara squeezed my hand. “You’re going to be terrifying. In a good way.”
Angela nodded. “If you want, pass by HR early tomorrow and grab their files.”
“I will,” I promised.
***
I woke up early and made breakfast for my parents like I used to.
My dad smiled over his coffee. “Ready to be Dr. Meyer again?”
“Yes,” I said. “More than ready.”
My mom hugged me. “You’ll be amazing.”
I believed it.
The hospital smelled sterile, bright, alive.
I changed into scrubs, tied my hair back, pinned my badge.
Dr. Marina Meyer.
I was late. Traffic, nerves, everything.
No time for HR. No files.
Straight to the residents.
They were already waiting in the conference room. Young. Nervous. Polished.
I walked in, confident.
“Good morning,” I said. “I’m Dr. Marina Meyer, your attending cardiologist. I’ll be supervising your rotation this year.”
I scanned their faces.
Then I saw him.
And the world stopped.
Brennan Stokes.
In hospital scrubs. ID badge clipped to his chest. Hair dark, expression controlled.
Resident.
My resident.
My fucking resident.
The world tilted.
My breath caught so hard it hurt.
He met my gaze—and his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
And suddenly, t night wasn’t just a mistake.
It was a disaster.