“No, it’s okay. Parker must be running late to pick me up for dinner with her and Garrett and… um, Garrett. So… yeah,” she rambles, nervously crossing and uncrossing her arms in front of her.

Fuck.

Part of me wants to come right out and ask her if she has a date, but I’ve been nothing but an asshole where she’s concerned and, as much as I hate to admit it, it’s none of my business. Not yet, at least.

“Look, things didn’t go exactly the way I planned last week when you showed up at the house. I imagined a thousand different times what I would say to you when I saw you again and I guess I was too shocked for any of it to make sense. I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I know I haven’t earned that right. You came to the house for a reason—because someone hired you to be my nurse and help me get this fucking knee back in working order. I’m not going to lie; I’m not handling being a patient very well. I’ve been through a ton of nurses because they can’t handle my attitude or my temper, and the agency refuses to send anyone else. Unless I want Caroline fumbling her way through physical therapy in between shopping trips and talking my ear off about some new fucking pair of shoes that are ‘to die for,’ you’re my only hope.”

I see a ghost of a smile curl up the corners of her mouth when I finish with my spiel.

“You’re my only hope?” she repeats back, raising one eyebrow. “Did you really just quote Star Wars to me?”

I laugh when I realize she’s right. “Hey, whatever works. But I know Star Wars isn’t your thing. I could try some girly shit like Dirty Dancing or that stupid Notebook movie you made me watch a million times.”

She lifts her palm up at me with a chuckle. “Please, God, no. You are not allowed to butcher my favorite movies.”

“How about a bribe? Would a bribe work? I’ll give you a blank check,” I tease.

Her smile immediately dies and her eyes cloud over, filling with tears. She blinks them away before they fall and takes a few steps back from me. I have no idea what the hell just happened, but I immediately want to apologize.”

“Liv—”

“I’ll be at your place tomorrow at 9 am so I can get a full rundown on the damage to your knee,” she interrupts, all business now. “I’ll make an assessment on your range of motion and then draft up a therapy plan for you to approve. After that, we’ll come up with a schedule. Also, it might be a good idea for you to give Garrett a call. You know, your best friend? I’m sure he’d be happy to know that you’re alive.”

She continues to walk backwards until she’s in the entrance to the hallway.

“I have to finish getting ready. Can you lock the door behind you, please?”

With that, she turns and disappears down the hallway. I hear the slam of the bedroom door a few seconds later and I let out the breath I’d been holding.

I slowly make my way onto the porch, closing the door behind me after I make sure it’s locked, and carefully navigate the steps. It takes so long to twist and turn and bend and hop to try and get myself into the fucking car without jarring or bending my knee that I’m sweating profusely and completely pissed off by the time I’m finally behind the steering wheel. Slamming my hand against the wheel, I curse loudly in the empty car and let my head thump back against the headrest.

For a few minutes, my Olivia was back, the smiling, teasing, happy woman I’d fell in love and spent almost two years with. Then, faster than you could snap your fingers, she was gone. Everything I say and do is wrong where she’s concerned. I just can’t catch a fucking break. On top of the brush-off that still stings, my yellow door is gone, and I couldn’t help but notice that every single picture of us had been stripped from the walls—the one of me cradling her in my arms after we won our first softball game, the black and white candid that Parker snuck of Olivia with her eyes closed and a smile on her face while I kissed her forehead and about a dozen others. There was only one photo left that I recognized, one that, twelve months ago, captured me and a smiling, happy Olivia sitting alongside Garrett and Parker at Christmastime. Now, it’s just a photo of Olivia, Parker and Garrett. I don’t know if my part of the picture was just folded back in the frame or if she cut me out completely, but seeing it felt like someone had reached into my chest and squeezed the life out of my heart.

Not only do I have the disaster I’ve made of my reunion with Olivia to contend with, I’m also filled with guilt over the way I’d cut my best friend out of my life. Olivia was right. I should have called Garrett as soon as I landed in the US. He was my brother and I’d pushed him away before I left. He’d been through so much after our mission in the Dominican that I didn’t want to bog him down with my own bullshit, but Garrett would have been the first person to understand my need to leave, my need for revenge and my need to get the justice my friends deserved. Not only do I need to make amends with Olivia, I need to make things right with my friend.

My road to recovery is suddenly getting longer and a hell of a lot bumpier.

“MRS. VARGAS WILL see you now.”

My foot stopped its nervous tapping on the tiled floor of the waiting area, transferring all that anxious energy right to my heart. As I stood and made my way around the assistant’s desk while she eyed me suspiciously, I hoped she couldn’t hear the thud of my heart threatening to burst out of my chest.

When I moved to San Diego and started seriously dating Cole, I got a job at UC San Diego before I even knew his parents practically ran the place. A few staff members made snide remarks about how I’d get special treatment: Extra vacation days, raises, promotions… they couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything, I had to work twice as hard to prove to them that I was damn good at my job and deserved everything I’d worked so hard for. One of the first lessons I’d learned after transferring to UC San Diego was that Vivien Vargas’ office was not somewhere I wanted to be summoned. With the help of her husband, she ran this hospital with an iron fist and there were only two reasons she would call you into her office: to rip you a new asshole or to fire you.