Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
JORDAN
April
“6-0 prolene,” I say, holding out my hand to the scrub nurse standing to my right. When nothing lands in my palm, I turn to see what the holdup is at the same time as I hear snickering from the surgical intern across the table.
“What?” I ask, fixing him with my best I’m an attending and you’ll do what I tell you to do look. He immediately averts his gaze, suddenly extremely interested in the suction device in his hand. I sigh, so tired of interns I could scream. Ignoring the patient on the table with an open abdomen, I keep my stare on the intern whose name I can’t remember. Or maybe I never knew it at all. Learning interns’ names has not been high on my priority list in the two years I’ve been working at this hospital.
The operating room is silent as I wait for the intern to lift his eyes to mine. When he finally does, I see the hesitation in his eyes. Every part of me wants to ignore this entire non-exchange, but that’s not how teaching baby surgeons works. I may no longer be much of a people person, but I’m still a surgical attending at a hospital with a residency program, so teaching is part of my job.
“What exactly is so funny about my request for sutures to close this patient’s abdomen, and why are those sutures not in my hand right now?”
The intern says something, but between his nervous whisper and his surgical mask, I can’t make it out.
“Speak up,” I say, feeling my frustration rise. I want to close this patient and get the fuck out of this OR.
“I think you asked for the wrong size sutures, Dr. Wyles,” he says, his voice shaky. “6-0 is for pediatric abdominal surgery. This is a full-grown adult.”
Fuck. I did it again. Two whole years after switching from pediatric surgery to general surgery, my brain still wants to turn every patient in front of me into a kid.
Blowing out an exasperated breath, I hold my hand out and wave my fingers towards my palm in the universal sign of hurry the fuck up and give it to me . “Just hand me the right size.”
Once I have the right sutures in my hand, I make quick work of closing and finishing the surgery. Leaving the operating room, I tear off my gown, mask, and gloves, shoving them into the biohazard bin. Then I scrub out, counting the minutes until I can be home on my couch with a beer and something ridiculous on TV.
I walk straight to the surgical board and mark the surgery I just finished as complete, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes at once again seeing my name next to an appendectomy.
That’s all I do lately. Remove appendixes and gallbladders. Fix hernias. General surgery is boring as shit. Even the fact that my last surgery was a burst appendix that required an open appy didn’t give me any kind of thrill.
Nothing in my life is all that thrilling.
Exhausted at the end of a long shift, I make my way to the locker room and head straight for my locker, ignoring the group of surgeons sprawled over the benches.
“Hey, Jordan, we’re about to go get a drink. Want to come with us?”
The question comes from Lucas Rodriguez, a fellow general surgery attending and the only person on my team who still tries to talk to me. New York Med is a surprisingly friendly place for a Manhattan hospital, and a lot of surgeons in my department made an effort to get to know me when I first started here two years ago. Eventually they gave up after I never accepted their invitations and generally made it clear that I’m not in the market for friends, but Lucas never stopped trying. Cheerful, persistent fucker.
“Sorry, not tonight,” I say, reaching into my locker to grab my bag.
“You sure? We’re going to that new place on 68 th and Amsterdam. The one with the ax throwing.”
“I really have to get home.” It’s a lie. There’s literally nothing waiting for me but an empty apartment and too many hours to fill before I have to be back here in four days, but socializing is the worst form of torture.
Lucas shrugs, happy expression never leaving his face. “Maybe next time. Have a good night, man. Enjoy your days off.”
I barely resist the urge to scoff as I hightail it out of the locker room, opting to change out of my scrubs at home rather than spend any more time in that room full of people. As I wait for the elevator, I pull my phone out for the first time since my shift started yesterday and place bets on whether I’ll have more texts from the group chat with my three brothers or the one with my friends.
The one with my brothers means I’ll get hit with yet another request to come home to Boston for a visit or, more likely, to just move home permanently already. I love my family, but it’s enough that I have to feel the suffocating weight of their love and concern from three and a half hours away. Feeling it in person might end me.
The one with my friends means general ridiculousness and snapshots of coupledom I used to love but no longer have the patience to participate in.
Clicking on the screen, I see that the chat with my brothers is surprisingly light, but there are forty-seven messages stretching from last night to early this morning in the chat with my friends. I roll my eyes at the preview of the first message on the screen.
Asher
Buckle up guys. It’s daddy o’clock up in here.
The message that follows is a picture of Asher Hansley, former NFL quarterback and friend of mine, holding my best friend Ben and his wife Hallie’s one month old twins and grinning into the camera.
Jeremy
You know they’re not actually your kids, right?
Asher
No, but they’re my niece and nephew, so it’s almost like they’re mine.
Asher married Ben’s twin sister Julie a couple of years ago, and it’s entirely unsurprising that he’s taking his uncle role extremely seriously. The guy is the human equivalent of a puppy dog.
GABE
The way the girls are talking, it’s like those babies have four moms, so Asher isn’t that far off.
Ben
If you’re not up at 3 a.m. feeding them, the babies aren’t fucking yours.
Asher
I offered to do nights, but Hallie turned me down.
Ben
Of course she turned you down. Because they’re our kids. Not yours.
Asher
Growly Daddy Ben is Hot Daddy Ben.
Jeremy
Asher, I would shut the fuck up if I were you. Ben hasn’t slept since the twins were born last month and murder is not out of the question, even if you are married to his sister.
Gabe
If you and Hallie want a break, give us a call. Molly and I can come hold down the fort for a while so you guys can nap.
Jeremy
Ems and I can come too. For sure the four of us can handle two tiny babies.
Asher
Jules and I too! We’ll throw ourselves a little party while mom and dad get some sleep.
The elevator doors open, and I step inside, swiping a hand over my face as a pang settles in my gut when I think about all of them being together. Once upon a time I would have been there too. With Allie. I shove that thought away because, not today, Satan .
Ben and Jeremy are my best friends from college. The three of us, along with Ben’s now wife Hallie, Julie, and their best friends and law partners Emma and Molly were a pretty tight group for a long time. Then Julie fell in love with Asher and, surprising no one, Jeremy finally gave in to a decade’s worth of feelings for Emma. When Molly reunited with tech billionaire Gabe Sullivan, her college sweetheart, it seemed like we were all destined to live happily ever after.
Until two years ago when my world crashed down around me, and I fled the job I loved, the city where I lived, and every good memory I had. Now, my best friend has newborn twins with the wife he loves more than life, the rest of my friends are rallying around them, and I just finished a shift in a job I don’t like and I’m on my way home to a two-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan that I hate.
Is it any wonder I’m grumpy and boring?
The elevator doors open and I’m making my way across the lobby when my phone chimes in my hand. When I check it, I’m not surprised to see a separate message from Jeremy. I don’t know how he does it, but somehow, he has my schedule memorized. He texts me at the end of every damn shift. In the two years I’ve been living here, he’s never stopped, no matter how short and sometimes nonexistent my responses are.
Jeremy
Hey, man, how’s it going?
Me
Same. Just heading home from the hospital.
Jeremy
No after work drinks?
Me
Nope.
Jeremy
That Lucas guy still hasn’t broken you down, huh?
Me
He radiates cheer. That’s not exactly my speed these days.
Jeremy
Some cheer would probably do you some good. You’re dangerously close to becoming one of those old men who yell at people to get off their lawn.
Me
I’d have to have a lawn for that.
Jeremy
Yeah, no lawns to be found in that concrete jungle you’re living in.
So, have you given any thought to coming to Pittsburgh to meet the twins?
I sigh as I push out the double doors of the hospital onto a very loud Tenth Avenue teeming with cabs and cars and a million pedestrians doing the morning rush. That’s another thing Jeremy does every time he texts me. Asks me about coming to Pittsburgh. It’s not as overbearing as the way my brothers get when they demand I make an appearance in Boston, but it’s annoying all the same. There are only so many different ways I can say no before I feel like screaming I’m fucking fine so stop asking .
Me
I have given exactly no thought to that.
Jeremy
Well, you should. They’re really tiny and cute, and you used to love kids. You made an entire profession out of hanging with kids all day.
Me
I made an entire profession out of operating on kids. While they were asleep.
Jeremy
Fuck off. You used to carry superhero figures and Barbies in the pockets of your white coat so you could play with your patients.
I’ve known you for like seventeen years. You can’t lie to me.
I roll my eyes because the guy isn’t wrong. The old me used to love pediatrics. The old me was different.
Me
Okay fine, I loved my patients. But I have a new job now.
Jeremy
You hate that job.
Me
I do not.
I do.
Jeremy
There you go with the lying again. When will you be home?
I frown at the screen—because what a weird fucking question.
Me
Why do you care?
It takes him so long to answer that by the time his response comes, I’m in the back seat of a cab, halfway home.
Jeremy
Just making sure you get home safe. You’re alone in the big, bad city after all.
Me
Whatever. I’m in a cab on the way home now, sitting in insane traffic.
He doesn’t respond at all after that, so I shove my phone into my pocket and stare out the window as the cab inches uptown.
* * *
My phone rings again just as I’m getting off the elevator in my apartment building. I pull it out and roll my eyes when I see my brother Elliot’s name and the absolutely ridiculous picture he added to his contact in my phone of him and his dog wearing matching sweaters. I consider not answering, but if I don’t, he’ll just call back a thousand times until I do.
“What?” I say by way of greeting as I hold my phone between my head and shoulder and stop walking while I dig my keys out of the bag on my shoulder.
“Fuck dude, you really have to work on your manners.”
“I just finished a twenty-four-hour shift. I’ll remember my manners after I’ve showered and eaten something that didn’t come out of a vending machine.”
“You know you really should bring lunch to the hospital. It’s way healthier than whatever crap you’re eating, and probably better for your surgical skills.”
“You teach computer science. What exactly do you know about surgical skills?”
“Fuck off. I have a PhD in computer science and tenure at one of the best universities in the country. I know things. Killer, sit,” Elliot says, and I assume he’s talking to his dog, which means this could go on for a while. “No, sit. We talked about this. Sit means sit, not jump on the furniture and eat my plants. Little shit.” His voice is full of fondness, and I swear, he loves that tiny dog of his more than he loves most people, and that’s saying something because Elliot loves everyone. Kind of like I used to. Now I just barely tolerate everyone. I am suddenly exhausted into my bones.
“Was there a reason you called?” I finally locate my keys and make my way down the hall.
Elliot scoffs. “Do I need a reason to call my big brother? I mean, you never come home, so the least you can do is talk to me on the phone.”
“I’m busy saving lives. I don’t have time to come to Boston.” Don’t have time to come. Don’t want to come. Exactly the same thing.
“Okay, sure, we’ll go with that.’
I get to my apartment and slide my key in the lock, frowning when I realize the door is already unlocked. “What the fuck?” I mutter.
“What?” Elliot asks idly. I still hear him whispering to his dog, so it’s possible he’s not actually paying attention.
“My door is unlocked.”
“Did you forget to lock it when you left yesterday?”
“How the fuck do I know? That was twenty-six hours, two sets of rounds, and five surgeries ago.” Five mind-numbingly boring surgeries on full grown people.
“Okay, well be careful. You live in New York. Anything can happen there.”
“It’s the Upper West Side of Manhattan, in a doorman building. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Well, if you get kidnapped, just remember that you’ve always been my favorite brother.”
“I’m not getting kidnapped,” I mutter as I shove open the door. I stop short when I see none other than Jeremy lounging on my couch, phone in hand and shit-eating grin on his face.
“Uh, what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Who’s there?”
“It’s Jeremy,” I say to my brother.
“That was fast,” he says. It puts my senses immediately on alert.
I narrow my eyes at Jeremy. “So? What are you doing here?” Then I turn my attention back to the phone. “And why don’t you seem surprised?”
Elliot stays silent, but Jeremy answers right away. “What? Can’t a guy come and see his best friend?”
Jeremy stands and saunters to me, looking every inch the NHL player he once was and the happily married father of two he now is.
“You were just texting me.”
“Uh, yeah, from right here. Why do you think I asked you when you would be home? I was getting tired of waiting.”
“How the fuck did you even get in here?”
Jeremy shrugs and grins, gesturing to the phone. “I called Elliot. I figured at least one of your brothers had a key to this place. He was happy to mail it to me for a good cause.”
“The good cause being…” I trail off. “What the fuck, El?” I growl into the phone as Jeremy just stands there, arms crossed and amusement all over his face.
“You’ve been ignoring your friends. You haven’t met your best friend’s newborn babies. That’s also not healthy.”
“So you thought mailing Jeremy a key to my apartment was the best solution? Were Noah and Coop involved in this little scheme too?”
“Duh. Wyles brothers never stir shit up without backup. I also called your doorman pretending to be you and put Jeremy on the list so he could go right up when he got there.”
“You…” I trail off, pinching the bridge of my nose and taking a deep breath because I really am four seconds away from losing my shit. Human interaction just isn’t something I’m good at anymore.
“Got him there, didn’t it?” I can hear the carefree shrug in Elliot’s voice. The this is in your best interest tone that grates on my nerves.
Blowing out a breath, I look at Jeremy, who is still grinning at me like an idiot.
“Okay. I’ll deal with you guys another time,” I say to my brother. “I have to go see what the asshole in my apartment needs.”
“Later, Jord. Let me know how it goes.” Elliot’s voice is filled with cheer, and he hangs up before I have a chance to ask him what it is.
I glance up from my phone at Jeremy. “I can deal with you now. So, my question remains. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I came to kidnap you and drive you back to Pittsburgh for the weekend.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not coming to Pittsburgh. I have to work. Give me the damn key.”
I hold out my hand, but Jeremy ignores it. “You have four days off. That’s definitely enough time to come to Pittsburgh, meet your best friend’s twins, and see all your friends who love you and have really missed you. It’s been months since we were all here to visit.”
I wrack my brain to come up with some excuse that will get Jeremy out of this apartment and out of the city, because the last thing I want to do is spend hours in a car with him and an entire weekend with four couples looking at each other with heart eyes and looking at me with sympathy and pity.
No thank you.
Jeremy folds his arms across his chest and pins me with an unflinching stare. “Listen, I see you trying to come up with a million excuses to get you out of coming. Let me save you the trouble and tell you that none of them will work. Your best friend in the world had babies a month ago. Two of them.” He holds up two fingers an inch from my face. “When your best friend has babies, you go meet the babies, preferably with a present or two. It’s the polite thing to do. So, you can moan and groan and complain the entire trip if you want. I don’t give a shit. You’re going. So pack a bag and get your grumpy ass downstairs.”
“Shit,” I mutter, knowing that when Jeremy gets like this, there’s no changing his mind. He’s stubborn as fuck when he wants to be.
Jeremy nods, a victorious expression spreading across his face like he knows he won. I have the sudden urge to slap it off. “Shit is right. There’s no getting out of this, so you might as well get on board. It’s time to come home, Jordan.”
Hating the way that sounds, but knowing I’ve lost this particular battle, I head to my room to pack a bag and get ready for the long ass trip to a place that isn’t home anymore.