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Beeps, clicks, and whirs from the hospital outside the door filled my ears. The quiet of her presence was gone. Well, it’s safe to say that you’ve successfully scared away the nurse. Next time, maybe you can pull your head out of your ass and say something interesting. Why was I the only brother that couldn’t get a girl? It was as if Wes and Jared were twins, not triplets. They were both brave, bold as hell, and chiseled. I’m two servings of French fries away from chubby. I took another look at Frank. In his paper-thin gown and unconscious, he looked ten years younger. When are you going to grow up Jared? We’re almost forty. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes. This is the last time. We’ve claimed enough territory. When will you be satisfied? How many times does Frank have to be in the hospital unconscious and bleeding? How many surgeries does he need to pull through? And how many times do I need to play the part of the concerned brother and handle anything suspicious or paperwork? The universe’s irony was not lost on me. I was the only one that wanted to choose a mate and settle down. And I was the only one who had a shot in hell at it.
“You’re cute, but I can’t.” Jen’s voice shattered my imaginary scolding. I whirled around to find her clutching the doorframe once more, leaning her torso into the room.
“I’m sorry?” She thinks I’m cute. Cute is code for a guy I want as a friend. The opposite of, ‘Please impregnate me with your adorable children.’
“I don’t date.” Jen’s forehead was furrowed. Her eyes were glassy, like she was faraway. Somewhere else.
“Me neither.” That was the truth. And from the way this conversation was going, I was sure it wasn’t going to change any time soon.
She tilted her head as if she was seeing me for the first time. Maybe she was.
Words escaped my lips. “Well, why don’t we go on a non-date.” Finally, something clever.
She giggled. “I want to say no, but I can’t think of a reason.”
I guess I'm not clever enough. Wait, wasn’t that a movie line? Her bright eyes assessed me. She was spinning her thumb and index finger in circles, an unconscious gesture. Calculating. What was she trying to figure out? “So, don’t say no then.” I said, more eagerly than I intended. Great. Now she was going to think I’m desperate. She clearly doesn’t want to see you. But, then why come back to tell me that? Was she in a relationship? I shot her my best, ‘I'm not a creep and I might want to make babies with you’, smile.
“Fine. I won’t then.” She wiggled her fingers at me, chuckled, and scurried out the door.
I leaned back in the chair, when I heard a groan.
“Loser.” Frank’s voice rattled weakly. He tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough.
Great. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know you’re a loser.” Frank laughed again; this time less wheezy.
Maybe I am a loser. Sure, I had my brothers, our biker gang, and our sister Darla. The guys at the auto body shop. I even had a few flings over the years. I might be an innocent lamb to my fellow shapeshifters, but from a human's standpoint I was still a bit of a bad boy. If I felt a little lonely, it was usually voluntary. The caliber of women my brothers usually kept around didn’t appeal to me. One-night stands were okay. Necessary, I guess. But damn. I ran my fingers through my hair and recalled Jen’s pouty lips and wild hair. What I would do to her given the chance. She didn’t say no. Even if Frank never let me live it down, I was going to do everything I could to make her say yes.
Chapter 3
Jennifer
My alarm went off at five-thirty as usual, and I was surprised to find the house still quiet. The skin across my arms and back tingled. I slapped my arms instinctively. It felt as if bugs were crawling all over me. Something was amiss. I jumped up and checked Camille and Avery. Both were still asleep. My pulse raced. Heart thudding in my ears, I took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. Did I have a bad dream? I strained my ears in the darkness. Even outside was quiet. Get yourself together. Everything is fine. You’re safe. The girls are safe.
After using the bathroom and splashing water on my face, I headed for the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee and get breakfast started. I immediately was swept up in the monotonous roll of chores. Lately, it was an automatic response to being conscious. Spotting a sock under the hallway table, I bent over to pick it up. A crumbled crayon and a rubber band were collecting dust underneath. As soon as my feet
hit the floor in the morning, I get to work. I pocketed the sock and wrapped the rubber band around my wrist. The crayon would need to wait until the afternoon.
A blast of chilly air raised the hair on my arms as soon as I entered the kitchen. The bedroom was warm enough to only sleep with a light blanket. Why was the kitchen freezing? Then I saw the curtains billow in the breeze. The window above the sink was letting in the cold. And I didn’t open it.
My stomach churned. I sprinted towards the open window and peeked out into the early dawn. Our backyard was empty except for an ancient grill that was there when we moved in. I spotted a few deflated balloons from the neighbor’s kids birthday party last weekend. The fence surrounding the deep but narrow expanse of grass was old, but sturdy. Not even the slightest sign of life or movement. A dog barked in the distance. The sun was rising higher in the sky. Soon, it would be light. You’re being paranoid.
I checked the window frame for splintering. Not even a scratch. The window was large enough for a person to fit through, but too small to be easy. Unless of course the person was extremely slight. And how would someone outside of the house open it without leaving a mark?
My insides ran cold. If the window was opened from the inside, there wouldn’t be a mark. How could someone open it from inside of the house? Someone else? It must have been me.
I shook my head and snapped the window shut. These long shifts were not doing me any favors. Moving away from the sink and back towards the counter, I grabbed the coffee pot. I was being ridiculous. Before my marriage, danger was what gave life taste. Since the girls, my biggest risks were pouring hot beverages and not fully stopping at a stop sign. Well, and staying married to their father. And running away. Water from the tap splashed onto my sleeves as I filled the pot. As I poured the water into the top of the coffee maker, I realized my hands were shaking. What a chicken shit I’ve become.
It was impossible. Could I have opened it and forgotten? I’ll admit, yesterday was weird. Flirting with a patient’s family member. Not my finest hour. And returning to flirt with the patient later? Again, not my most professional day at work. Frank and Wes were funny and attractive. And both of them were striking and refreshing. Considering the choices I usually contended with in that hospital, I felt like a starving person in an all-you-can-eat buffet. Smug doctors and creepy preppy nurses did not tickle my fancy. And I haven’t had sex in six months. Not since the week I ran away. Although I knew I was leaving, I didn’t want him to be suspicious.
Maybe I was acting a bit out of character lately, but forgetting to lock up the house when my ex-husband was potentially creeping around was out of the question. Either I was going to have to start getting more sleep or the world’s most benign criminal was here last night. Another possibility would be that a neighbor’s lawn gnomes went rogue or, like in some obscene thriller, Tim decided he was going to drive me batshit crazy with memory games. He was certainly obsessive and unstable. Moody and toxic. Dangerous. But a mind-fuck genius? I think not.
There’s no way Tim was breaking in the house and didn’t try something or keep quiet about it. He would rub it in my face. Violence was his go-to communication strategy. If someone broke in and snuck back out, it wasn’t Tim. I’m not sure if I should feel better or worse about that realization. Could Tim have learned to play the long game?
There has to be another explanation. You’ve been looking over your shoulder for so long that you don’t know how to relax. People leave windows open. It’s not a big deal. The skin on the back of my neck tingles. I needed to forget this mess and get out of the house. Think about spending time with your patients later. They always cheer you up. Frank was hilarious and Wes was sarcastic and adorably awkward. And both of them were sexy as hell. Focus girl. You’re going to be late.
I pressed the button to start the coffee brewing and grabbed milk and eggs from the fridge. Placing them on the counter, I paused. What did I do yesterday? Work, picked up the girls, came home and made spaghetti and meatballs. The girls didn’t feel like taking a bath, so we all curled up and watched Brave. Popcorn and peanut M&Ms for me, goldfish crackers for Camille, my breast for Avery. The coffee pot began to hiss and spit. The gurgles echoing off the spacious kitchen was usually a welcome signal that my caffeine was on its way but the muscles in my neck felt taut like a stretched rubber band. I raised my hand up and began massaging my taut muscles. If you asked a certain patient out, you wouldn’t be afraid of an open window. No, I would be afraid of lots of other things being opened. Mouths. Legs. Hearts.
