The vise around my chest tightens. I force a smile that feels like broken glass. "She’ll crush it up there."
Cile nods. "We’re all so proud of her."
Every casual mention of Janie feels like a knife I shoved in myself. I've betrayed them in the worst possible way.
Emma tugs on my hair. "Done! You look pretty."
I touch the crooked braid. "Thanks, Em. I feel prettier already."
The evening unfolds with easy laughter and familiar stories. This is what family is. This is what I risked for one reckless night.
Later, I’m alone in the cab of my truck, driving too fast down A1A. One hand loose on the wheel, the other braced against the open window. Salt air whips through the car, tangling the little braids Emma worked into my hair earlier.
The phone in my pocket is like lead. Janie’s text from days ago still sits unanswered. A stupid coffee joke about latte art, harmless on the surface, lethal underneath, has turned into something it never was, and I'm sure she didn't intend.
My grip on the wheel tightens until my knuckles ache.
By the time I hit the condo, the silence between us is louder than the ocean outside. I strip down, collapse onto the bed, and stare at the ceiling. The phone glows on the nightstand, daring me.
One reply. That’s all it would take to cross the line again.
I roll to my side, hand hovering, then snatching back like the glass is hot. My chest is hollow and tight all at once.
This silence is supposed to protect us. To protect Blake. To keep me from wanting what I can’t have.
Instead, it’s just proof of how badly I already want her.
FIVE
Janie
The swinging door of Kelsey’s Tap smacks shut behind me, and the week’s grind slips off my shoulders like a too-heavy coat. Friday night means neon lights, sticky floors, and Gemma waving me over to our usual booth like we’ve been coming here for years instead of just two months.
Two neon-colored drinks wait on the scarred wooden table, my mouth watering at the sight and the instant calm I know the first sip will bring.
"There she is!" Gemma raises her glass, dark eyes sparkling beneath the string lights hanging overhead. "The woman who survived Dr. Halloran's presentation without falling asleep."
I slide into the booth, my body heavy with relief at finally being off my feet. "I deserve a medal for that. Three hours on infection protocols, and he somehow made superbugs sound like a Hollywood blockbuster."
"Two months down, thirty-four to go. I think that calls for a celebration."
"When you say it like that, it makes it seem like there is no end in sight."
"We’ve got this. These two months have flown by. And tomorrow, the big two-three." Gemma lifts her electric blue cocktail, waiting for me to grab mine. "Double celebration."
I groan, reaching for my drink. "Don't remind me. Twenty-three seems like ancient right now. I swear I've lived five lifetimes since moving here. I hope I can keep up with this pace."
"Please." Gemma rolls her eyes. "Twenty-three is barely potty-trained in hospital years. You should see the gray hairs I'm getting at twenty-nine."
We clink glasses, the sweet-tart liquid burning pleasantly down my throat. The room shifts slightly as I set my glass down, a wave of dizziness washing over me.
"You okay?" Gemma's eyebrows knit together.
"Fine." I blink hard, forcing a smile. "Just stood up too fast after sitting all day."
"Bullshit." Gemma leans forward. "You've looked like warmed-over death all week. Yesterday, you practically sprinted to the bathroom during rounds."
My stomach twists at the memory. "Yeah, I've been feeling like shit. I think it's just stress and lack of sleep. Or maybe that sketchy sushi place we tried."