Ten years later...
"Have a good weekend, Doctor Milton."
I turned to my assistant and smiled. "Thanks, Gemma. You too."
Hiking my bag over my shoulder, I walked out of my clinic. Car honks, street lights and the cold winter wind were a shock to my senses after being inside all day.
My breath fogged in the air. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck and tucked my hands in my coat's pockets. A man almost bumped into me on the busy sidewalk, prompting me to move. I joined the flow of people, both tired and excited for the weekend, and made my way to the nearby underground parking lot.
Someone stepped out of a bakery, letting out a cloud of warm, sweet scent. The yeasty aroma of bread and the smell of sugar and cinnamon rode the air like a magic spell, drawing people closer. I walked right past it.
After more than eight years of going without sugar and processed foods, the cravings no longer made me feel like a drug addict with withdrawal symptoms.
It had been difficult at first, but cancer was a good motivation to take care of my health.
***
My feet throbbed by the time I was in my little studio apartment. Standing almost all day was part of being a vet. Still, I loved my job.
I dragged the box I found next to my door inside and closed the door.
Unwrapping my scarf, I hung it on the coat rack, my coat as well, and took my boots off, setting them in the corner. I sighed. Walking barefoot was a bliss.
I glanced at the box. I hadn't ordered anything. Or had I? I'd just check it later.
I headed straight to the small kitchen to my right. The wooden cabinets creaked as I pulled out a mug and a green tea bag. I turned on the kettle.
My phone rang.
I glared at my bag on the floor. Who dared interrupt my winding down routine? I should just not answer.
After the third ring, FOMO won. With a huff, I rummaged through my bag and fished out my phone. Scott. As usual, my brother had the best timing.
"What?"
"Good to hear from you too, little sis," he said.
I rolled my eyes and strolled past my couch and bed to the floor to ceiling window. The kitchen spotlights reflected off the glass, shadowing my figure against the backdrop of the city below.
"What is it?"
"We had a plan, remember?" Scott said.
I frowned. "What plan?"
"The charity gala," Scott said. He ignored my groan. "You're supposed to be my plus one."
"Scott, I really don't think you're that desperate to take your own sister as your plus one," I said.
As mind boggling as it was to me as his sister, women threw themselves at my brother left and right. It helped that he was a rich, young NFL athlete, who was also 'drop-dead gorgeous', according to my assistant, Gemma.
The kettle whistled. "See, that's the issue. I have too many prospects," he said. I could almost see the grin on his face. "So to not break any hearts, taking my sister is the safest option."
I snickered. "Smartass. You'll have to take someone else. I don't have anything to wear."
"Hana was supposed to send you a dress," Scott said.
I glanced back at the mystery box. The whistling of the kettle turned desperate. "Did she now?"
"Yep. So, I'll pick you up in an hour and a half. Don't be late!"
"Scott-"
He hung up. I threw my phone on the bed and walked back to the kitchen. I prepared my tea and left it to seep before checking the box. Putting it on the low coffee table in front of my couch, I tore the wrapping. The luxurious white box bore the name of a well-known brand. I eased the lid open and held my breath.
As expected, Hana outdid herself again. My brother's PA was nothing if not competent. And she had great taste.
I picked up the dress. It hung to the ground in folds of shimmering pale blue silk. It must've cost Scott an arm and a leg.
The dress was perfect, and I couldn't resist putting it on. My tea forgotten, I stood in front of the full length mirror between the couch and the bed, my clothes thrown over the chair next to my dining table.
The dress fit like a glove. I brushed my hand over it.
"Damn Scott," I mumbled. He must've known I wouldn't be able to resist the dress. As much as I didn't care for socializing, it would just be such a shame to leave this masterpiece to gather mold in my closet.
I ran my fingers through my hair. The short strands tickled my shoulders, wild and frizzy after a long day at work. I glanced at the clock. I had just enough time to grab a quick shower and get ready. I fired a text to Scott.
Fine. You win. You're lucky Hana has great taste.
I know. She keeps reminding me.
Then he sent a grinning emoji. I smiled. My brother was such an idiot. I loved him.
*** **** ***
Scott scanned me from head to toe as I stepped into the driver's seat of his car. He nodded to himself. "Good enough."
"Why, thank you for the compliment," I said, dropping my clutch in his lap. "You really should find a girlfriend already. I'm not going to be your plus-one forever."
He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with the light of a passing car. He was dressed in a black tux. His muscles filled in the suit, and the stubble on his jaw was neatly trimmed.
"It's not like you have anything better to do," he said. I glared at him, because he was right, and started the engine.
"What? You know I'm right. If I didn't drag you with me, you'll just be spending your Friday evening at home."
"Which is a perfectly good way to spend a Friday night," I said, merging into the traffic. "Where's the gala held?"
He gave me the address. Thirty minutes later, I ignored the file of cars lining for the red carpet and the photographers and drove down to the underground parking lot. Scott would get his photographs taken later.
We weren't the only ones who chose to forego the press attention. Several cars were already in the hotel's parking lot, where men and women dressed in gowns and tuxedos made their way to the elevators. I recognized several famous faces. Athletes, models, actors. It still amazed me that Scott, as well as Jason, was part of their world, too.
Scott and I made our way to the line of elevators.
"Sapph!"
I glanced over my shoulder and smiled at Jason.
He'd grown taller after high school, and he towered even over Scott. The girl next to him was tall enough to not look weird next to him. She was a model, if I remembered correctly. Her high cheekbones glimmered under the parking lot lights, and the professional makeup made me feel inadequate in the light brush of mascara and lipstick I usually wore. That was fine. I might never be as gorgeous, or as good at applying makeup, but I had other qualities. I doubt Jason's date could open up a dog's stomach and sew it back together.
"Scott managed to drag you out of your cave?" Jason asked, coming to a stop next to us. He and my brother slapped each other's backs, and Jason gave me a hug. I pinched his side. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to pinch, only muscle.
"Shut up," I grumbled. Jason introduced us to his date who was, indeed, a model. Her hair was a halo of glistening black curls around her heart-shaped face. She was beautiful and polite.
The next elevator arrived. Our ride. We got in along with two other couples.
Scott and I were up front. I looked at my reflection in the elevator doors. My short hair was styled into effortless waves, making it look even shorter, brushing my faux fur black coat.
The dress underneath was held to my shoulders by thin straps that flattered my figure. My arms was linked through Scott's. And even as his sister, I had to admit, he looked particularly dashing in a tux.
The couples behind us started talking. I glanced in the mirror. One of the guys was vaguely familiar. He looked as wide as he was tall. I think he was a professional wrestler? He looked even more imposing in real life.
I zoned out their conversation while Jason and Scott argued about who won their latest game with Stefan. My other brother was in another state, happily married to my best friend with two boys and a girl on the way.
I looked at the numbers going up, mentally going over my to do list for next Monday. I had to get Gemma to call my med supplier on Monday to see where that order was. A couple of surgeries were scheduled next week. Oh, and I had to make my grocery list for the Farmer's Market tomorrow. The last time I went without a list, I came back without half what I actually needed.
"... if he fights him again, I don't know if he'll win," one of the guys at the back was saying. "I mean, Benjamin is set for revenge."
"Man, Jamison won't even take the fight, I'm telling you. That guy's monster in the cage. Benjamin doesn't compare."
"Yeah, but it's been almost a year and a half since his last fight. Is he retiring?"
The muscle under my hand locked. Scott looked at me in the mirror. I focused on my breathing.
The name never failed to make my heart throb. It wasn't hurt. As the years went by, the sharp pain had dulled into a shadow of regret and disappointment.
Scott and Jason were both doing their best to not look at me. I caught Jason's glance in the reflection and winked at him. He gave me a small smile.
I wasn't the only one who'd been heartbroken in high school. But unlike Jason, I had to live my everyday life knowing I would hear about the person who broke my heart and occasionally see him on TV, billboards and social media. I was used to it. For other people, Hunter Jamison was the best fighter in the world. For me, he was a ghost from my past I wished would disappear.
Scott cleared his throat, tugging at the tie around his neck. I squeezed his arm. Fortunately, the elevator doors opened before Scott could become anymore uncomfortable.
The charity event was held in the banquet hall of the hotel. The theme was black and gold, apparently. The space was a spread of black-clad tables and chairs. The golden cutlery mirrored the golden wainscoting on the brown walls.
Four massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sparkling like crystals. Bronze statues decorated the corners, and delicate vases of fresh white roses were set in the center of every table. Up ahead, an empty stage stood with a podium and a white screen behind.
Soft music played in the background, failing to drown the conversation gaining in volume as more guests trickled in. Scott found our seats, and we settled down. I was glad to be off my feet. I loved fancy dresses as much as the next girl, but heels made me want to gauge my eyes out. Hiding my feet under the table, I toed off my pumps and wiggled my toes. Ah. That felt immensely better.
Jason and Scott went to greet an acquaintance of theirs in the next table.
"You're Scott's twin sister, right?" Jason's date, who he'd introduced as Carrey, said next to me.
"Yes. Well, we're triplets," I said.
She nodded, tucking a glossy curl behind her ear. "You went to high school together?"
"Yep. We've been friends since kindergarten, basically."
Her perfect eyebrows went up a millimeter. She glanced at Jason and gave a slow nod.
Ah. I saw how it was. Jason was arguably one of the most handsome men I knew. With his light honey eyes and dark skin, he could be a top model. He was charming and smart. Being rich and successful didn't hurt, either. Only a blind woman wouldn't be attracted to him.
I wasn't blind, but I was basically his sister. Outsiders might not understand how our friendship could stay just that, a friendship, but Jason and I had seen each other in too many embarrassing moments over the years to consider each other something other than an annoying sibling.
A familiar bird-boned woman approached our table. Hana Kim, my brother's PA, strode through the room like she owned it. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, she didn't look the least bit intimidated by all the fancy gowns and sparkling jewelry around her. A tablet in hand, she fixed her sharp gaze on my brother. Instead of heading for him, she approached me.
"I see the dress is a perfect fit," she said, her dark eyes scanning my dress.
"Your taste is impeccable as always, Hana. Thank you," I told her with a smile.
She waved me off. "With your brother's budget, I'd be an idiot if I didn't chose a perfect dress."
My brother and Jason separated from their company and made their way back to their seats.
"Scott," Hana said. "An interview."
"Now?" He made a face. "Can't it wait 'till later?"
"It can," Hana said, looking down at her tablet. "But you'll need to have an interview with Brenna, too, if you wait."
My brother sighed. "Fine."
Hana caught my eyes and winked. I stifled a smile. If anyone could handle my brother, it was Hana.
"Lead the way, my fair lady." Scott swept a hand and fixed Hana with a charming grin. It bounced off her like pebbles off a mountain.
"She sure knows how to deal with Scott," Jason said, his arm thrown over the back of Carrey's chair as he leaned forward to look at me.
"She does. By the way, your puppy's surgery is scheduled for next week."
"Yep, your assistant called," Jason said. "Mom will probably be the one to bring it there. I have a game next weekend."
I smiled. Jason's mom lived with him in his huge house. After his father's passing a few years ago, Jason finally managed to convince her to move from our old town and live with him. Which was fantastic since I got to see more of her.
A few photographers were allowed inside, as usual, and their cameras were flashing faster near the door as more guests arrived. It must be someone special.
"Who's that?" Jason asked, looking back. We could see nothing past the crowd of people at the entrance.
"I heard Ian Felix is coming," Carrey said. "He hasn't been seen since his shotgun wedding last month."
Jason and I hummed. An actor, huh. I shuddered. How could they live with cameras constantly watching their every move was beyond me.
I looked away from the buzzing entrance and pulled out my phone. I needed to get that grocery list going.
But the commotion grew louder. And I recognized my brother's angry voice over the babble. Oh shit. Jason and I looked at each other with wide eyes. Then we were on our feet and rushing to the crowd.
That hot-headed idiot! The last time he'd been in a fight was eight months ago. Hana still had the white hairs she got from dealing with the fallout. If he got into another fight, and in a charity event nonetheless, I was going to neuter him. I had the tools.
Jason was there before me thanks to his long legs. I raised my dress and ran. I was barefoot. Oh well.
Jason's head moved above the crowd, his wide eyes fixed on something. I pushed through the unforgiving crowd who wanted a bite of the gossip.
"Excuse me." I unabashedly shoved through two reporters and reached the front of the crowd. Jason and Matt, one of Scott's teammates, were holding my brother back. I breathed out in relief. Thank God.
My breath caught in my throat when they moved, and I could see the person on the other side of the fight.
Dark hair. Impossibly black eyes. Blank face. He turned his gaze and looked right at me.
Hunter.
My surroundings vanished, the voices around me turning into background noise. My pulse thumped in my ears, and my breathing sounded loud. There was an odd pressure in my chest.
Dressed in a white dress shirt tucked in black dress pants, he overshadowed every tux-wearing athlete and model around. His hair was slightly longer, his jaw sharper and covered in a light stubble, and he filled his shirt to the seams. I saw him on screens and on the cover of magazines, but nothing prepared me to being face to face with him. Nothing compared.
Hunter's eyes flitted away. Then everything came back into sharp focus.
My brother had somehow managed to escape Jason and Matt. He swung a punch that caught Hunter's jaw.
The cameras went crazy.
Ugh, that idiot!
"Damn it, Scott!" Jason said, grabbing my brother's arm and shoving him back towards Matt. Jason looked at Hunter. "I think you better leave."
Hunter's gaze swung to me again, locking me in place.
Jason stepped closer and murmured something only meant for Hunter's ears. Hunter didn't look away, but after a minute, he gave Jason a look. The look. The one that promised violence and blood.
It hadn't changed even after ten years. I held my breath, expecting a punch, a fight.
But Hunter turned and walked out.
--- ---- ---
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M.B.