THE COOL DECEMBER wind whipped through the air, piercing the thin cotton of Skye Summers’s scrubs. Spencer McAdams’s Queen Anne townhouse stood before her as she twisted the diamond ring he had placed on her finger last night.

Funny, how she found herself here. Her complicated life could have headed in any number of directions, but the broken foster girl of her past was finally seeing all her dreams come true. Skye was almost normal.

With her stomach fluttering, she searched for her key. The day Spencer had given it to her, she’d nearly toppled over, but she rarely came here without him. Within a year, it would be their key.

Today, she planned on surprising him.

His favorite music played through the surround sound speakers, drowning out her grand entrance. A smile ghosted her lips. She would greet him with a kiss and finish with something more.

His shoes littered the marble entryway, and she placed her backpack beside the mess. Spencer had perfected the disorganized clutter of the quintessential bachelor. The tie he had worn last night dangled over the back of a chair, and his dress shirt was draped over the couch. It lay precisely where she’d tossed it last night after ripping it off his body. His tailored pants were still sprawled across the hall, exactly where he’d kicked them off in his rush to get her to bed. The man was such a gorgeous mess.

She snuck down the hall and twisted her ankle as she stumbled over something. A red stiletto? Her stride faltered, and her gaze cut to a silk blouse lying in a crumpled heap. She grabbed the wall for support and stepped over a lacy bra. Another scrap of fabric was bunched on the floor not two feet away. It was a flimsy thong she would never wear.

She fisted her hand against her belly, her palm slick with sweat. With her heart banging against the cage of her chest, beating so feverishly she thought it would explode, she tiptoed. Discordant notes blared through the house, covering the sound of her footsteps. With each step forward, she feared what she would find, but she had to see for herself.

The cries of a woman spilled out of Spencer's master suite. She peeked inside. Spencer had his back to the door, his naked ass gyrating in a primal rhythm as he plunged into the woman sprawled on the bed. Skye’s nails bit into the flesh of her palms as she curled her fingers into impotent fists.

He panted while the woman’s staccato cries rose in counterpoint to his guttural moans. Long, slender legs were wrapped around Spencer's waist, and the woman writhed in orgasmic ecstasy.

Skye wanted to claw the bitch’s eyes out. She wanted to scream, kick Spencer in the ass, stomp on his nuts, or cut off his dick. But she did nothing, not until Spencer looked over his shoulder. Only then did she gasp, mortified that she’d been caught spying.

He didn’t stop fucking, but he did slow his pace. “What are you doing here?” His voice was filled with accusation, as if she had no right to be in his home.

She should have picked up one of those stilettos. Then she could have thrown one at his head. Instead she backed away.

“Don’t you dare leave!” Spencer called out.

He had his dick buried in another woman, the cheating ass, and he wanted her to stay?

The trail of discarded clothing mocked her as she staggered through a veil of blurred tears toward the front door. She grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, desperate to escape. Her hands shook so hard that she could barely open the front door, but she made it outside where she stopped cold. Her emotions billowed in a turbulent flow. A normal person would have been filled with rage, but humiliation and resignation were much more familiar emotions. She embraced those.

As she stood on Spencer's front stoop, she pulled the diamond ring off her finger. She had half a mind to leave it inside, but she wasn’t setting foot back in that house. Maybe she should toss it in the bushes?

The ring wasn’t hers. Not anymore.

For now, she placed it in the deepest pocket of her scrub pants. She’d give it back later.

Wasn’t it enough that Spencer had shredded her heart? Now, the biting cold was also stealing her warmth. Icy tendrils pierced her flesh and delved deep to brush against her heart. She adjusted her backpack and snuggled deep into her heavy winter coat. The frigid wind clawed at her and then moved on in search of other victims. She was too numb to care, but she was determined to make it through the day, albeit mechanically and in an emotional fog.

To survive her upcoming twelve-hour shift in the emergency department, Skye made a list of things she needed to do. It was a coping mechanism she’d mastered years ago.

Hot cocoa.

Ride Metro.

Work.

Finish her shift.

Home.

Collapse with a movie and a gallon of coffee ice cream.

Pack for trip.

Shit. Spencer was supposed to join her on her mini vacation. Now, she’d have to go alone, and she hated traveling by herself. Like the ring, she’d deal with that later, too.

First, she had to make it to the coffee shop.

She slipped her hand into her pocket and clutched two carats of broken dreams. A symbol of love and trust, the ring was now nothing more than a shattered promise.

Recessed in the corner of her mind, a lingering doubt remained. Maybe Spencer had been right. Was it possible she was too damaged for love?

Enough!

Up ahead, the coffee house beckoned. Skye quickened her steps. Her breath coalesced in the frigid air and drifted away in the swirl of a passing breeze, disintegrating, like her relationship and the future it had promised.

The small coffee shop had been her refuge during a grueling residency and still was today. It was a place where she had gathered with a small group of fellow residents who were coffee lovers. Leading up to their board exams, they’d crammed everything they needed to know about medicine while indulging in their favorite addiction—caffeine. With her residency finished, she still stopped in every day to get her favorite piping hot beverage.

Of course, she’d met Spencer there, too.

Maybe she needed new dreams and a new future?