Page 58 of The Bad Brother

Creekers.

That’s what they call the people who live in Clearwater.

That’s what Jensen calledme.

And he’s one of them.

As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Not that it matters to me, one way or the other beyond the fact that it provides me another piece of the puzzle that is Jensen Barrett.

This is what I’m thinking about, scarfing down a quick dinner of warm yogurt and burnt coffee between patients. It’s not quite as busy as our usual Friday nights, but busy enough to keep me moving. When my phone buzzes in the pocket of my lab coat, I take a quick glance at the clock hanging above the breakroom door. Just after 7PM. Frowning, I pull it out of my pocket, sure it’s going to be another text from Ethan, harassing me from yet another number I haven’t blocked yet. He got his mother’s ring back. I checked. He picked it up yesterday afternoon, causing a scene when the volunteer at the information desk refused to page me to come talk to him. Worried that he’s going to claim he didn’t or that it was stolen and try to hold me financially responsible, I swipe the message open.

It’s not from Ethan. It’s from my mother.

Mom: See you tomorrow at 2pm.

Shit.

I’d completely forgotten that I promised my mother lunch at the country club.

Me: I can’t do it that late, Mom. My shift starts at noon. Can we meet at 10 for brunch instead?

Mom: No. It has to be at 2. I can’t meet any earlier than that.

Suppressing the urge to throw my phone, I grit my teeth while I type out my response.

Me: Then we’re going to have to reschedule. I’m free all day Sunday and Monday.

Mom: Take the day off. We can go shopping afterward

Me: I can’t just take the day off. That’s not how being a doctor works.

Mom: If you ask me, you shouldn’t be working at all. You should be dedicating all of your time and energy into winning Ethan back.

She’s relentless.

Me: I don’t want Ethan back.

Mom: Well, you need someone to take care of you, Sloane. You’re not getting any younger.

I have someone. Someone who cares about how I feel. Someone who makesmefeel. Someone who picks me wildflowers and asks me if I ate breakfast. Someone who can’t stand the thought of me leaving without saying goodbye. Someone who got down on his knees and begged me to stay.

Me: I’m at work. I don’t have time for this conversation.

Mom: Fine

Because I know her and that she’d never give up that easily, I’m not at all surprised when a slightly frazzled nurse finds me to tell me that Dr. Ragnar wants to see me in her office while I’m filling out discharge paperwork for one of my patients.

Ten minutes later, I’m knocking on Ragnar’s closed office door. unlike last time, there are no voices. Ragnar is alone which means at least my mother didn’t come down here and cause a scene in person this time.

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, I stop in the doorway to watch while my boss stands up from her desk and starts to collect her things, obviously waiting for me to make an appearance before she can leave for the day. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“No, Dr. Merrick,” she says on a tone, ripe with irritation. “Ididn’twant to speak with you. As a matter of fact,I’d sincerely hoped that after our discussion a few weeks ago, that you and I were finished speaking to each other about matters pertaining to your personal life.”

“I’m—”

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