I set the empty glass down, dragged my body up, and headed to the shower, telling myself that despite the lingering aftershocks and mental images, I wasn’t going for round two.
But then I turned around and grabbed the rose anyway.
Just in case.
Chapter Four
COLE
Something was off about the surgical bay.
It was cavernous and eerily quiet where monitors should beep and techs should murmur. I hovered over the draped form on the table, my hands moving through prep motions for a procedure I had no memory of scheduling and wasn’t even sure what I was here to do.
My fingers groped for a scalpel. The instrument tray was empty. I yanked open a drawer, found it bare. Then another. When I touched the patient, my latex gloves came away slick and crimson red.
What the…
“I need some help in here,” I called, turning toward the door.
Harper Sutton stood just in the doorway, arms folded tight across her chest. Not moving, not speaking. Just watching me fail.
My eyes flew open into darkness and my bedroom came into focus. I inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly to calm my racing nerves as the nightmare dissolved.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand: 4 AM. I tossed back the covers, swung my feet to the floor, and shuffled to the bathroom where I pulled on gym clothes, brushed my teeth, ran a comb through my hair.
Then I headed downstairs, grabbing my keys and wallet from the kitchen counter before stepping outside.
The ten-minute drive to the gym wound through empty streets still slick with overnight rain. My headlights tracked a small animal skulking between parked cars; beyond that, only distant taillights.
I left the radio off. I didn’t need the noise.
This gym wasn’t anything special, a twenty-four-hour chain that lured people in with pizza and upsold them on memberships. Not saying I fell for the gimmick, but I did appreciate the post-workout slice every so often.
At this hour, the space held just three patrons: a woman pounding away on a treadmill with her headphones on, and two men hovering over free weights like long-time residents. No one made eye contact. That was the whole point of getting to the gym early.
I claimed my favorite rowing machine, still smelling faintly of bleach cleaner. I set the resistance and began pulling. The first few strokes were rough—my shoulders stiff from yesterday’s surgeries and a game of pick-up basketball. Soon, the motion fell into a steady cadence: pull, breathe, release, breathe. The cables resisted each stroke and I leaned into it. By minute fifteen, sweat traced down my temples, and my shoulders were on fire.
This was the only part of my day that made sense. Effort in, result out.
After thirty minutes, I moved to the leg machines. My muscles screamed with every rep but my brain finally shut up. When I finished, my legs were shaking and the burn in my calves was welcome.
I did a half-hearted stretch, spent a few minutes letting the heat seep into my muscles in the sauna, and then headed home. I cracked the windows as I drove, the frigid air drying the sweat on my body, making the rest of me feel wired and alive.
A few minutes later, I was standing in the kitchen, staring at the counter and weighing my options: eggs or a protein shake. The shake would be easier. More protein too.
I grabbed the blender and tossed in frozen berries, a banana, pineapple, and a scoop of powder that claimed it tasted like vanilla, though it never really passed for the real thing.
I heard a key turning in the lock and the security system beeping. Ms. Patricia’s footsteps sounded through the living room, heading straight for me.
“Cole Terrence Vaughn.”
My whole government name. I didn’t turn but did greet her as always. “Morning, Ms. Patricia.”
She moved through my kitchen like she owned it. At sixty-two years old, she was spry and lively with caramel-toned skin, hair always pulled tight in a headwrap. Today it was a burnt orange, deep and rich, matching her scrubs and those battered Crocs she wore during her overnight nursing home shifts.
She zeroed in on the blender. “Tell me you are not about to have that mess for breakfast.”
I shrugged, my thumb pressing the button. The blender roared loud enough to cover anything else she might have said. When it cut out, I poured the shake into a glass and stuck a straw in.
