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I shoot her an irritated glare. “Seriously, Blythe?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m kidding. You remember jokes, right?”
“Not the time,” I warn her.
“You’re too tense, so I’ll stop right there,” she says, hands raised in mock surrender.
She’s right. I am too tense, but can she blame me?
The driver helps the new patient transition from the vehicle into a wheelchair. I first notice his light brown hair, slightly disheveled. His athletic build seems momentarily confined by the chair, yet somehow still imposing.
One arm is encased in a cast resting in his lap, while the other hand brushes back unruly locks. His jeans look rumpled but stylish. I’ve no doubt someone altered them to accommodate the leg cast peeking out from the hem.
Even injured, it’s clear this man usually commands attention wherever he goes. I catch a glimpse of the tattoo on his good arm. It’s a unique musical staff with whirls, flowers, and letters. My body goes rigid as recognition sets in. I reflexively grasp my own wrist, fingertips brushing over the matching flowers inked there. My pulse skyrockets and the ground sways beneath me.
It can’t be. After all these years, fate can’t be this cruel. But I feel the truth resonating in my bones, in the very fiber of my being.
It’s him. Brahms.
Seeing that tattoo again stirs up a hurricane inside me—old grief, guilt, and something deeper I thought long buried. I dig my nails into my palms, using the bite of pain to anchor me against the plethora of emotions.
He turns, piercing blue eyes meeting mine. In that split second, I’m transported back through time. It’s as if my entire life is flashing through my eyes. From the moment I met him until my world came crashing down.
My heart stutters, breath catching. I’m drowning in memories that go from the best to the most painful ones and in between.
Of all people, fate would choose him to potentially save my clinic—or destroy it like he did my life. It’s the cruelest twist imaginable. Brahms remains at the epicenter of that meteor strike that shattered my world. Being here threatens to pull me back into the gravitational vortex of those traumatic days and the loss.
And it hits me. That haunting, hollow loneliness after my world imploded for the second time all those years ago comes rushing back.Once again, I’m that broken girl escaping from him with nothing but an aching, bleeding heart. The world spins out of control, and I’m powerless, unable to reclaim what’s lost. I watch helplessly as my dreams, my life, and my very soul shatter before my eyes.
I can’t breathe or think. My world has fallen apart, and I’m lost, adrift in agony. I’ll never catch my breath, never recover from the devastating blow. Everything I’ve built teeters on the brink of collapse.
I’m that terrified, lost child again, my hopes hanging by a fragile thread. One wrong move, and this time I’ll lose more than my heart. I could lose my dream and everything I’ve built forever.
Maybe that’s okay, a small voice whispers. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to restart. But I silence it harshly. I’m stronger now, and I won’t let him win.
“We’re not giving him any services,” I announce abruptly and look at him. “Leave the premises now. You’re not welcome in this house.”
I simply walk away from him, the house, and the past.
“Seraphina, what are you doing?” Blythe calls after me, confused and concerned.
I don’t stop or turn around. “You heard me. We’re not doing this.”
“This is a complete misunderstanding. Let me talk to her,” Blythe weakly tells the others.
“Don’t, I’ll handle it,” a familiar male voice replies. I quicken my pace, but then— “Stop, Fifi,” the voice orders this time, using one of my old nicknames. He’s almost behind me now, but I won’t stop.
“Fifi,” he calls out again.
I halt, glancing over my shoulder to find one of the older Ehrenberg brothers. Ellington’s kind brown eyes watch me sadly.
“You did this?” I ask turning around. “After what he did, you brought him here to me?”
Ellington nods slowly. “I know it’s asking a lot after . . . but he needs you, Seraphina. You may be the only one who can truly help him now.”
“No.” The word is simple and has so many implications.
“Please,” Ellington implores under his breath. “I can’t lose my brother.”
