Page 33 of Dr. Intern

Following my coffee and morning walk through the park, I decided to curl up on the balcony with my Kindle. While my most recent read is a slow-burn rom-com, I can’t bring myself to open it. I’m a mood reader and switch between books at a wildly unhinged rate. Maybe it’s my ADHD, but I have a hard time focusing on one thing for too long. And right now, I need a good old smutty story to take my mind off my brother’s best friend.

As I’m settling into a hockey romance that’s already making me laugh out loud, my phone rings.

“Cass!” I exclaim into the phone. “You’re going to die. This goalie just put his main character on the Zamboni and, well, you know . . .”

Cassidy is the one who introduced me to spicy books this year. At first, I was hesitant because none of my other friends read smut. Or if they do, they definitely don’t talk about it. But once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. It’s a completely different world than the one I’m used to, where books like this are seen as taboo and uncouth.

While I have zero filter around my family, growing up like I did made me super aware of how everyone sees me. It was like I was always two different people—one version at home, and another out in public.

I never wanted to be an embarrassment to my family, especially considering the circles my parents moved in, so I did everything I could to portray on the outside that I fit in.

It’s why I’m always assessing how much of my true self I can let free. How wild I can be. It’s also why at twenty-six years old, I’m still discovering so much about who I am.

“What?” Cass pauses before replying to my greeting because I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing she expected me to say at noon on a weekday. “Oh, nice. Send me the name of the book.”

She sounds distracted, and I can barely hear her, which makes me worried given everything that’s happened the past month. Sometimes it feels like once you experience a tragedy, you’re just waiting for the next one to strike, as if more grief is just a ticking time bomb with a short fuse.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, closing my Kindle and setting it on the cushion beside me. In the background, there’s a muffled commotion, then silence.

“Cass? I can’t hear you.” I put the phone to my ear, trying to catch her distant words.

She comes back clearer. “Sorry about that. Can you hear me now? There was a wild patient in the hallway, and I had to slip into the supply room.”

Relief washes over me as I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

“Yep, I gotcha sister.”

She chuckles. “I’m not your sister yet.”

“You might as well be,” I reply honestly. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me, even if my idiot brother fucks things up again.”

Cass and Parker had lots of ups and downs in their relationship before they got to where they are now. I like to think the reason they’re happy and together is because I brought her to our house on Christmas last year to reconnect. Parker was being a mopey asshole and wouldn’t swallow his pride to call Cass. I forced her to get on a plane and surprise him. After an hour, they made up, and the rest is history.

“He won’t,” Cassidy says, “because I honestly think he’s more scared of you than he is of me.”

I take a sip of the Diet Coke on the table in front of me. “As he should be. I’m a very formidable force.”

“Speaking of formidable forces, I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Uh oh,” I tease playfully. “What did I do now? Did Parker see my credit card bill again? Because I’ve been good, I swear. Whatever he says is a filthy lie.”

Something rustles in the background as she replies. “I texted you last week about getting my stethoscope from the condo, and you never responded. I wanted to give you space, but now I’m kind of desperate. We ran out of the cheap ones at work, which is why I’m currently on my hands and knees in the supply closet, searching for a spare.”

My brain must still be in the book I was reading because I say, “Don’t tell Parker that.”

And then I remember that he’s my brother, and I almost vomit. Sometimes I have a hard time separating the fact that Cassidy is my best friend, but also the person marrying my brother. It’s like I want to know everything, but at the same time, I don’t want to know anything at all.

“He’s in surgery all day, don’t worry,” she responds with a light chuckle. “So the stethoscope?”

“Ah yeah, about that,” I say sheepishly. “I deleted all of my texts on Monday, so I didn’t see it.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Well, when you have hundreds of unread messages, it can get a little overwhelming,” I admit, smiling as I pull up the nice clean message box. “It felt nice to start fresh.”

I haven’t looked at my texts once since that day in the hospital. Messages just started pouring in once news got out about my mom, and I couldn’t bring myself to read them. My phone’s been on do not disturb for texts ever since.

“I’m glad,” Cassidy replies, and I know she genuinely means it.

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