My chest heaves. I dig my nails into my palm. “So you feel cranky, like a toddler, and your response is what? Having dates and making out for thousands to see?” I shout, leaning forward, trembling with fury. “Tell me, Nate—what came first? Because I… I can’t even decide what’s worse!”
Julian’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Robyn, maybe you should cool it?—”
I shake it off, spine rigid, heat coiling in every nerve. “Tell me, Nate! What came first?!”
“You’reneverwith me!” His voice drags, thick with booze and bitterness. “All we do is fuck and nap.” He breathes hard through his nose, the smell of alcohol cutting through the air.
I take a step closer, fists balled, breath coming fast. “Howpatheticare you that you can’t handle your own company while Iwork?”
“I’vebeen second to med school our entire relationship!” He exhales sharply, shoulders slumping as if carrying the weight of it all, but eyes still burning.
Heat pulses through me, like electricity in my veins, limbs tense, chest tight. Every word from him is fuel. “You know why I took up this program?” My voice rises, ragged, shaking with rage and exhaustion.
He shakes his head slowly, the motion loose and uneven, yet defeated. His shoulders sag forward, breath spilling out in a rough exhale.
“Do you even remember howbadmy board scores were?” My voice catches, jagged, almost breaking. “I—I barely scraped by, Nate. Barely got a residency in Chicago. You think it’seasyto land a full-time neurology job after that?”
I swallow hard, shaking my head, laughing—it’s sharp, bitter, and it hurts more than it helps. “Why do you think I’mobsessedwith doing a good job? Because if I don’t, if I fuck up… I get shipped off to some tiny hospital in the middle of nowhere! You want that? You’ll resent me for having to quit your Mr. Big Architect job to design single family homes!” My voice disappears.The way you already do.“And that’s all without wanting to do right for patients like my mom, Nate.”
The words scrape across my skin, cold and cutting, and for a second, the room tilts. Julian and Andrzej freeze at the edges of my vision, witnesses to Nate and I lashing out at each other.
For a second, Nate’s eyes fill with hesitation, and his tense shoulders relax. Then he hardens back up. “Well, it doesn’t even…” he bites back. “Doesn’t even matter now.” He points, finger trembling. “You left me alone a long time ago… and then you broke up with me anyway.” His voice drops to a rasp. “Guess we meant that little to you.”
“Nate, I already told you. I don’t have time; I don’t have energy for this. I have literal lives in my hands.” My body is heavy, muscles screaming from the day, heart still racing from rounds, but the anger under my skin refuses to let me stand still. “So maybe it’s time you really feel. Nine seconds, Nate. Nine. Fucking count them.”
On a reckless impulse, I grip Julian by his shirt, curling my hand around the fabric, and pull him to me. My chest presses against his, burning, tension coiling through my limbs. Every exhausted fiber in me hums with fury, and for a moment, we just hold each other, eyes locking—silent, electric confirmation humming between us. Maybe there’s a point to this stupid trend, because I feel a rush of dopamine that used to be just Nate’s.
Then we collide. Lips crash, desperate, sharp, the heat of frustration and need igniting through the fatigue that weighs on my shoulders.
Our heads tilt.One.I part my lips, a taste of the heat of his mouth against mine.Two.His tongue slides in, soft but masterful, pressing into mine.Three.Our tongues tangle, hot and frantic. His heart thrums, steady under my fist.Four.His fingers thread into my hair, tugging gently, and a shiver runs down my spine.Five.Our tongues tease and spar, each swipe stoking my anger.Six.I bring him closer, pushing my body against his.Seven.We switch sides, bodies sliding, adjusting, skin brushing skin with a friction that makes my exhaustion flare into raw energy.Eight.We slow, breathing ragged, chests rising and falling, the heat lingering in every nerve.Nine.We pull away, hearts hammering, breaths mingling. For a suspended second, all I feel is the dopamine rush.
Nate has tears running down his cheeks, disbelief written across his face and slack jaw. I press against his chest, and it stiffens under my touch. His shoulders sag, then tense again.
“That’s nine seconds, Nate.” I grab the door with myother hand, and his gaze flickers between me and the door, his chest heaving, a sharp inhale that makes my fingers twitch against him.
“Tell me if it still feels like a fucking prank to you.”
Then I slam the door in his face.
CHAPTER 12
The Visit
Nate
I waketo the kettle screaming, sharp and metallic; it cuts through the thick pounding headache I’m sporting before I open my eyes. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my back is a long throbbing cramp. I’m lying on a couch I don’t recognize—sunken in the middle, fuzzy beige material, and someone’s musk cologne and air freshener clings to its fabric. Next to my head, is a trash can half filled with vomit.
To my right, Andrzej moves around the kitchen, opening drawers. A spoon clinks against a mug as he pours tea. Then, Andrzej meets my eyes, a faint curl to his mouth as he folds his arms across his chest.
Andrzej pours honey and warm water in a mug then stirs them together, with judgment and pity on his face. He sits in front of me, on the coffee table, one brow lifted.
“Do you remember?” he asks.
I scrub a hand over my face. My mouth isn’t dry anymore;it’s overflowing with regret. “Yeah.” I nod, forcing the word out; the ghost of that back-of-the-throat burn creeps up with them, the taste of last night’s alcohol still clinging. “She kissed Julian.”
Robyn’s lips on him and her tongue pushing its way into his mouth flashes in my mind, making me heave.Nine seconds is a long fucking time.
He nods, slow. “She kissed him before or after you started yelling?”
