Blood is everywhere.

On my hands.

On my scrubs.

On my skin.

It’s all I can see. The deep red, almost black hue is warm.

I try to wipe it away, but the blood stays. It always does.

The painful, semi-unconscious moans from the woman on the gurney fill my ears. Her body is completely broken, and I try my damnedest to save her. She can’t die. Not yet. Not now. The swelling has already taken over, and the light purple bruises cover her body. The cuts on her arms, legs, and face are so deep that all I want to do is kill the motherfucker who did this to her. She tried to avoid the head-on collision, but it was too late. The man who chose to fucking drink and drive should be the one lying here, fighting to breathe, fighting to live. Instead, he’s belligerent in another room, cursing and accusing someone of crashing into him. From the corner of my eye, I see the police standing outside the door. I hope the bastard rots in hell for this.

When I look down at her, she’s almost unrecognizable. Blood mats her hair, and all she does is moan out in pain. The sound is deafening, one that’ll haunt me for years to come. This woman is someone’s daughter, sister, friend, and as I study her, I can’t help but question why bad things happen to good people.

As her life dangles from a fragile thread, all I know is I have to do something. I have to try. She needs more blood; she’s losing it too quickly, and I know deep down she’s too far gone. Regardless, I refuse to give up hope that I can save her. Medical miracles have happened. One can happen now.

I try to speak and move, but I can’t, even though time is of the essence. Her chances are slim and dwindling, but we have to try to save her because that’s what we do. I open my mouth to speak, to scream, but nothing comes out. I try to move, but it’s as if I’m standing in glue, stuck to the eggshell colored floor of the hospital, and everything is silent. For the first time in the emergency room, I feel helpless.

I wake up in a panic, and it takes me a minute to realize I’m in the hospital and had fallen asleep again. The day has been slow, so I snuck off and found an empty, quiet room where I could close my eyes. Mistake number one. The fucking nightmares always come back. No matter how much I’ve tried to push it away, some things can’t be unseen. Stress and sleep deprivation encourage the horrors I’ve witnessed over the years to haunt me in my sleep. I scrub my hands over my face, trying to get a grip on reality while trying to think of something else.

Being an emergency room doctor at a trauma hospital isn’t easy. If it were, there’d be more people signing up for this profession. It takes a certain type of person to choose this life, and the things I’ve seen would make a grown man cry. Hell, I have. I became a doctor to save lives and to make a difference even though it’s impossible to save everyone who comes in. It’s a hard pill to swallow.

I stand and stretch, then walk down the hall until I’m in the break room. Though my shift ends in fifteen minutes, I need coffee before I drive home. Of course, the coffeepot is empty, so I make some. Leaning against the counter, I watch the fresh coffee brew and hope to God the caffeine works quickly because I need it. After working seven days straight and staying later than I wanted a few days this week, I’m exhausted and worn out.

As soon as the coffee finishes dripping, Emily enters, but her face is glued to her phone. As soon as she notices me, she shoves it into her pocket.

“Dr. Bishop.” The rudeness in her tone isn’t lost on me. Before I can grab the handle of the pot, she beats me to it. She gets a cup, fills it full, then adds a shit ton of sugar and cream.

“Want some coffee with that?” I ask, looking at her light brown liquid.

After I pour myself a cup, I let it steam for a minute, then take my time drinking it black. When I was an intern, there wasn’t much time for all the froufrou sugar and creamer shit. Coffee was a necessity and time was limited, so we got in and out of the break room in less than a minute. I almost felt like I was in hyperdrive with how fast everything happened after med school.

She smiles then takes a sip, overexaggerating how good it tastes. “You’re always so judgy.”

Just as I’m about to say something, Emily’s cell rings. She pulls it from her pocket with a huge smile, and she answers it. Her face lights up, and I’m curious as to who she’s talking to. I almost wonder if she has someone back in Houston, a boyfriend she failed to mention. It has me questioning our night together, and why she lied about her name. Then again, I’ve had way too much fun shutting her down each time she tries to explain herself. I’d like to think she’s not the cheating, one-night stand type. Some things are better left unknown.

I drink my coffee slowly, watching her, listening to her chuckle and speak softly.

“I can’t wait to see you too,” she says, tucking loose strands of her chestnut colored hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry. I love you too. Okay, sure. Yes, I promise. Bye.”

Love? That’s a strong word to use, but I keep my thoughts to myself.

“What?” she says, picking her coffee up from the counter and raising it in the air as if to give cheer about her sugar water. She lets out a soft throaty moan as she swallows it down, and that sound reminds me of our night together. I try my damnedest to push the thoughts away and forget it ever happened, but it’s nearly impossible with her standing so close to me. The sweet smell of her soap and the hint of her perfume fills the room, and it’s so fucking intoxicating that I swear she does it on purpose. I can’t help but look at her lips before we make eye contact, and I hate the fact that my body even responds to her. She feels it too. I know she does by the way she’s fighting with the bottom corner of her lab coat. The magnetic pull is forcing us together, and the chemistry we have is electrifying and undeniable—it’s what drew us together in the first place. Emily Bell is dangerous because she tries to push my fucking buttons and tease me with her presence every chance she gets.

“That’s what I thought,” she finally says, breaking the awkward silence that so easily filled the room. A part of me wants to kiss that sarcastic smirk off her damn face, and the other part of me wants to be a dick and say something I shouldn’t. Instead, I choose the high road and try to make my exit. What happened between us before can never happen again. Ever.

“Whatever you say, Dr. Bell. Good night,” I tell her after I finish my coffee and walk out of the break room. When I clear the doorway, I hear her groan, which makes me smile. I’m getting to her, breaking her down little by little. I bet she’s wondering which one of us will snap first. It sure as hell won’t be me. Since the moment I saw her step off that elevator, I’ve tried to push her away. I’ve tried to make her hate me, but this woman is impossible. Just the thought of her pisses me off and excites me at the same time. I’m pretty sure it’s the exhaustion taking over.

After I change out of my scrubs, I try to leave without seeing Emily again, and I’m successful. As I walk across the parking lot to my car, my phone is going off like crazy in my pocket. Ignoring it crosses my mind, but I don’t because I always think about the what-ifs. It’s the doctor in me who assumes every call is an emergency. It’s the first place my mind always goes, and it’s not an easy thing to live with or habit to break. As I open the truck door and buckle, my phone rings again, and this time I answer it.

“What the fuck?” Jackson asks. “I know what time you get off work.”

“You and I both know my scheduled hours don’t mean shit. What’s up?”

“Tonight. Me and you. Drinks at Duke’s,” he states matter-of-factly.

I immediately start shaking my head. “No thanks. I’m exhausted.”

“You owe me one. Remember that time I brought you clothes when you were butt-ass naked?”

“And remember the type of clothes you brought me knowing I had no other choice but to wear them?” I remind him.

He lets out a chuckle, which doesn’t help his case. “You’re right. But I really need to get away. John refuses to go with me, and Alex is too busy being a dad. I’d ask Dylan, but they were worked ragged today.”

“And you think I wasn’t?” I question him, starting the truck and pulling out of the parking lot.

“Did anyone die?” he asks.

“Not today.” Which is true, thankfully.

“Then you weren’t worked ragged. Just one drink, that’s all I need. I swear.” He practically begs, and I know he wants to talk. Jackson is all fun and games ninety-nine percent of the time, but there’s always that one percent when he’s not. By the tone of his voice, it seems like today falls in the latter.

“One drink, then I’m leaving. I’m not kidding. I will leave your ass to be hit on by all the cougars who want you in their beds,” I warn.

“The thought of that is almost appealing.” He laughs. “See you there in fifteen minutes.”

I head toward Duke’s, a restaurant located between my house and the ranch. It’s our small town version of a sports bar that serves drinks and food, and during football season, it’s packed with people rooting for the Cowboys. It takes me longer than usual to get across town because of all the damn lights, and by the time I arrive, Jackson’s standing by the door waiting for me.

“You look like shit,” I tell him.

“You smell like it,” he says with a wide smile as we walk inside and find a place at the bar.

In no way am I a regular here, but the bartender knows Jackson by name and uses it as she takes our order. I give him a side-eye, and all he does is shrug.

“What’s so important?” I ask as I look over the menu. If I order dinner now, then I can go home, shower, and go straight to bed. At this point, I need about twenty hours of solid rest, considering I haven’t been able to catch more than a few hours each day. The past few nights I’ve found myself waking up and not being able to fall back to sleep. It’s a vicious cycle. I’ve been hoping it would work itself out, but this week, I’m not sure it will.

“Are you going to fill me in on what happened with Stella after the wedding?” Jackson asks.

“Long story short, she stole my clothes. That’s where you enter with a fuckton of clothes I wouldn’t be caught dead in.” I groan before adding, “But it gets better.” Jackson is a gossip and is at full attention as I give him the details, which up to this point, no one knows other than River. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t told Alex, and it hasn’t made its way back to Jackson and John.

“On Monday morning, guess who the fuck walks in?” I glare at him.

His eyes light up as realization hits. “No!” He smacks a hand on top of the bar, chuckling.

“Yep. Stella who is actually Dr. Emily Bell. She gave me and everyone else at the wedding a fake name. Emily just so happens to be the new ER doctor that I have to fucking train for the next month.”

“I almost feel sorry for her because I know you’re being a huge bastard especially considering the situation, but with what she did, she probably deserves it anyway.”

Shrugging, I don’t deny it. The bartender sets our drinks down, and we order our food. I try to finish the conversation we were having when I notice Jackson is in a trance as he stares across the room. At first, he looks confused, then realization flashes across his face.

“What?” I try to see what he’s looking at and when my eyes land on Kiera, laughing, having a good time, I know exactly why he’s acting this way. She’s not alone. I can’t make out who she’s with, but it’s clear she’s on a date.

“Great,” he mumbles under his breath, and his entire demeanor changes. Jackson has had a thing for her since they were kids, but he’ll deny that shit until he’s blue in the face. Everyone knows too; everyone except the two of them. I wish they’d just date and get it over with, but they’re both too damn stubborn.

“She looks happy.” I state the obvious, and he offers me nothing but a grunt.

“Who the fuck is she with?” He stands and tries to look around the people on the other side of the bar. Then, without warning, he ducks.

“What the hell are you doing?” I look down at him.

“I think she saw me,” he admits.

“Why does it matter?”

Knowing I’m right, he slowly stands. When he finally sits on the barstool, he keeps his hat and head down, and I find it way too amusing.

“That should be you over there laughing with her having a good time. You know that? Maybe you should try to get over your bullshit bro code and ask her out. You’ve only had a thing for her since you were five, and all you’re wasting is time,” I tell him; something I’ve told him a handful of times before.

“Well hello pot, meet kettle.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re not really the person to be giving anyone relationship advice,” Jackson says, lifting the beer to his mouth and drinking half of it.

“You’re right. But if you wait around, you could miss out on a good thing. I know I did,” I admit, thinking about Alicia. She’s been on my mind a lot lately, and the anniversary of her death is approaching, which doesn’t help either. The entire mood of our conversation shifts, and I can’t help but think about the what-ifs.

Every morning before work, I’d stop by The Grind Cafe to pick up a cup of dark roast coffee. It had quickly become my routine after I was hired at the hospital. Alicia was a barista, and we’d make small talk until we eventually formed a friendship. She’d greet me with a warm hello, and soon I found myself going in there just to see her. Perfect smile, beautiful personality, intelligent—Alicia was the full package. I stare at my drink and think back to the moment I decided to ask her on a date—one that never happened. The might-have-beens almost destroyed me.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to…” Jackson trails off. He knew how much the tragedy of losing her affected me. I wasn’t the same for a long time.

Before I can tell him it’s fine, he jumps off his seat and ducks behind the bar again.

I glance over at him. “You’re a fucking weirdo.”

“Is she coming? Is she walking over here?” he asks.

I look up, and I see Kiera walking this way. She smiles and waves.

“Nah, you’re good.” I grin because things are about to get interesting.

“Okay,” he says, letting out a relieved breath.

Kiera makes her way around the bar and sees Jackson squatting. He doesn’t notice her until she’s practically standing in front of him.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks.

Jackson darts his eyes toward me as he stands. “I dropped my, uh, contact.”

“You don’t wear contacts.” Kiera shakes her head while glaring at him.

“How do you know?” he asks her, positioning himself back on the stool.

“Because I’ve been your friend since you used to pick your nose, Jackson Bishop. I know everything about you. You can return to your shitting in the woods position if you’d like, I have to pee. It was good seeing you.” She gives him a sweet smile, and he gives her a head nod before she walks away.

“What the fuck? You could’ve at least warned me,” he finally says, punching me in the arm.

“Remember the flannel shirt and nut cruncher pants you brought me? Now we’re even,” I tell him. I almost feeling like an ass but not really. When Kiera exits the bathroom, she takes an alternate way around the bar to avoid us. But I don’t blame her. Jackson was being weird as fuck. He watches her settle into the booth across the room, then changes the subject to something else. After he finishes his drink, he doesn’t order another one and actually sticks to his promise, which, after seeing Kiera, shocks the shit out of me. Usually, he’s drinking to forget her, though he’d never admit that.

Once our food arrives, I finally cut to the chase.

“So what did you want to talk about?” I ask.

“It’s probably stupid, but have you ever felt like you’re just living the same day over and over again?” The tone of his voice tells me he’s sincere. Not many of my brothers feel as if they can have real conversations with me, but Jackson always has even though we’re complete opposites. I guess that’s why we get along so well even though I think he’s an asshole most of the time, but then again, he most likely has the same opinion about me. All of my brothers do. I’m the hardass. What can I say?

“Truthfully?” I take a sip of my beer. “Yes. That’s why I went to med school. I love being here because it’s home. But I knew I needed something more fulfilling in life, something that wasn’t the same shit day after day. That’s why I enjoy being in the ER. Every day is different, and I never know what’s going to happen.”

Jackson stalls, holding his beer as he finds his words. “I love working with horses. Breaking them. Teaching them. But I feel like I’m missing something. I can’t help but see how happy Alex is with River and the baby and wonder if I’ll ever have that.”

“This isn’t classic fuck boy talk,” I tell him with a laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He chuckles. “Maybe I just need a little more excitement in my life to break the monotony of it all. I’m not trying to get married anytime soon, trust me on that,” he admits.

“Go to Key West for two weeks. Apparently, that’s where all the babes are,” I joke, and Jackson rolls his eyes. After Alex got back from vacation and met River, it was all we heard about for three fucking months. Now that they’re happily married, we’re glad we don’t have to hear about it anymore.

We chat about the ranch and the bachelor auction while we eat, and an hour passes so quickly that I don’t even notice. The bartender smiles and gives Jackson another beer, but I’m ready for my check.

“I didn’t order this, Shay,” he says in a flirty tone, using her name for the first time tonight. I’m starting to think he’s not just a regular at the bar.

“It’s on me,” she tells him with a wink.

“You know what else should be on you?” His question causes her to giggle, and my suspicions are confirmed, but maybe not. Jackson is so bold when it comes to women that it’s hard to tell if he’s already slept with them or just wants to. When I listen to the cheesy pickup lines, it makes me happy I’m not pursuing anyone and have to play these stupid games. As they continue, I look across the room and see Kiera and her date stand to leave. I still have no clue who she’s with, but he places his hand on the small of her back as they walk toward the exit. Jackson notices, too, and he doubles down when he looks back at Shay.

“What time do you get off tonight?” Jackson asks her as she mixes a drink for another customer.

“In about an hour, actually. I’m not closing.” She walks to the computer, and Jackson’s eyes are dialed in on her ass. While she’s cute, I don’t think she’s his forever woman, but what do I know?

“This is perfect,” Jackson says loud enough for only me to hear, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s talking about Shay or the fact that Kiera is leaving with someone else.

Once Shay’s finished serving drinks to other customers, she comes back, leans over the bar, causing him to lean in, and whispers something in Jackson’s ear. His eyebrows perk up, and by the look on his face, I can only imagine what she said.

“Can I get my check?” I interrupt their rendezvous planning because I’m tired.

“Sure, babe,” she says, not taking her eyes off Jackson.

I hand her my card, then I look at him as she moves to the other side of the bar.

“Wear protection. I’m not helping you with herpes,” I tell him before she returns.

All he does is laugh. “I’m always packing.”

“I’m pretty sure Alex said those exact words before going to Key West, and now he’s married with a baby. So unless you’re ready for that, don’t be stupid. Also, your ass better be on time for work tomorrow.”

“Don’t jinx me, you bastard,” Jackson says under his breath.

When Shay returns, he smiles wide at her, and I shake my head. The fuck plan is already set in motion—that much is obvious. As I’m leaving, I give him a pat on the back and tell him to be careful getting home, though I have a feeling he’ll be at Shay’s for the rest of the night.