“Have you been doing the drugs meant for your patients and it’s caused brain damage?”

“Yes, Mason. I do drugs during surgery. Half my patients are actually awake and screaming.”

“I’m honestly a little concerned,” he says seriously. “Chloe just invited you to spend the night with her and you turned her down.”

“She did not. Chloe and I…we’re…we’re not like that.”

“But you want to be,” Mason shoots back. “Don’t you?”

I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, and seeing her again only reaffirms how much I do. She’s gorgeous, obviously, but there’s so much more to her, and I want to get to know each and every layer of her complexity. Even as kids there was nothing simple about Chloe, and she thought it made her undesirable or too much for someone to handle.

I wanted to handle her then, and I’d give anything to handle it now. Chloe is one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. She’s passionate and driven, but has a heart of gold. We haven’t spoken much, so there’s a chance I’m wrong here, but it doesn’t seem like the fame and money changed her, which is impressive on its own. That sort of thing can change a person for the worst.

It doesn’t matter how much I want to be more than friends with Chloe, there’s no way she’d want to go there with me. I betrayed everything we had between us, and I regret it each and every day.

I should have told everyone to shut the fuck up. To stop laughing at my friend. My best fucking friend.

I should have run after her a hell of a lot faster than I did.

By the time I got outside, she was gone, and after half an hour of looking for her, I went back to the house to get my phone. The first call went right to voicemail. I hung up, did shots, and then called again. The world was spinning, and I couldn’t get the look on her face out of my head. It wasn’t the embarrassment of showing up dressed like she just stepped off the set of Pirates of the Caribbean…no, it was the heartbreak reflected in her eyes.

“We’re friends,” I say, blinking a few times to try to shove the memories back. “Or we were friends.”

“Why’d you stop being friends?” Mason asks, and we go over to the table. My pulse speeds up a bit, and I wait a beat before answering, seeing if this is Mason’s way of testing me. I said we drifted apart. That going away to med school was the reason.

“We went to different schools.” I slide into the booth and grab a menu. “She had her own friends and I had mine.”

“Yeah, but you two always did and that never made you stop being friends before.”

I shrug, concentrating too hard on the menu. I can feel Mason’s eyes on me, but he doesn’t say anything. He can be a little shit more times than not, but he knows when to stop. Well, sometimes.

Everyone in my family has to know I’ve had on-and-off eyes for Chloe throughout our relationship. The timing was never right.

“She’s single,” Mason goes on. Apparently tonight isn’t one of those rare times when he knows to shut the fuck up.

“How do you know that?” I look up from the menu and see Mason holding his phone. “Are you internet-stalking her?”

“Doing a quick Google search isn’t stalking, plus she posted this on Valentine’s Day.” He shows me a photo of Chloe dressed like an elf, posing with a gray horse. She looks like something right out of a fantasy movie, ethereal and incredibly sexy without showing a lot of skin. The caption on the photo reads, “The only man I need! The best part is he let me pick out my own V-Day gift. ;-)”

“That was from February. It’s August now,” I counter. “That doesn’t mean she’s single.”

“She hasn’t posted any photos of her with a guy since, and if you look through her history, she tends to post photos of herself with whoever she’s dating.”

“Give me that.” I snatch the phone from Mason’s hand, feeling my stomach drop when I see a photo posted in March of Chloe and Charles. It’s a throwback, at least, but if they had some sort of bitter breakup, why would she be posting photos of him at all?

She must have been on a book tour for most of April, since there are four photos in a row of her with different gatherings of readers. Most of her photos are either of her with her computer or of her with Spartan, her horse. She wasn’t lying about that at least.

“Hey, you.” Lauren plops down in the booth next to me and slides over. I tense, silently cursing Mason for inviting her out. Even if I hadn’t run into Chloe, Lauren isn’t someone I’d want to hook up with. “Your friend left?”

She literally heard Chloe say she was leaving, and Lauren is just driving the point in.

“Yes.”

“Her loss.” Lauren wiggles her shoulders and inches closer, looking over at the menu. “What are you ordering?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly, and grab another menu from behind the salt and pepper shakers, giving one to her so she stops leaning over mine.

“It’s too late to eat anything,” Lauren notes, glancing over her menu.

“Too late?” Mason questions.

“I don’t eat past eight PM,” Lauren tells us. “That’s how you get fat.”

Paige, who’s a curvy girl, jerks her head up, looking at Lauren with wide eyes before turning her head back down, obviously embarrassed. Mason, who’s been hoping to hook up with her all night, notices and wraps his arm around her waist.

“Midnight snacking is my favorite.” He kisses Paige, and I kick him under the table. “Actually,” he starts, wincing from the kick in the shin. “I think some takeout sounds good. We could go back to your place.” He wiggles his brows, and I roll my eyes.

“I agree with the takeout,” I say. I want to get back to Jacob’s and crash on the couch. I close my menu with a sigh, knowing I’m going to have to break it to Lauren that I’m going home alone tonight.

“Why did we agree on breakfast?” Mason grumbles, adding a third packet of sugar to his coffee. The whole family is out for breakfast at Silver Café.

“It’s nearly ten AM,” Dad quips. “I’d argue we’re actually eating brunch.”

“Whatever it is, it’s too fucking early.”

“I’m sure being tired has nothing to do with that girl from the bar you went home with last night,” I say, bringing my coffee to my lips. Mason glares at me.

“I bet my night was better than yours,” he retorts. “At least I got some.”

I respond by taking another drink of coffee, because his night was better than mine, and it had nothing to do with Paige and everything to do with me tossing and turning, reliving that night at the party over and over. I hate that I hurt Chloe.

That I missed my chance to tell her how much she means to me—how much she’s always meant to me. Finally, when the sun was coming up, I fell back asleep and didn’t have a dream at all. I woke up to Jacob’s dogs barking at something in the yard, but my head was a little clearer. I feel terrible for what I did to Chloe that night, but it’s not like she’s still suffering for it.

She’s living her best life and is happy. I’m just a blip on her radar, I’m sure. I’ll go back to work, back to my old self, and will go a few days without thinking about her. And then a few days will turn into a few weeks and I’ll get along just fine. As long as I don’t think about her for the rest of the—