Page 3 of Falling into Place

Chapter Two

Brooks

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Dr. Martin. Don’t worry about him; he doesn’t yell and never gets mad if you page him in the middle of the night. But don’t expect him to crack any jokes or go out with the crew after work. I don’t know what skeletons are in his closet, but dude’s private as fuck.”

—Overheard at the 4W ICU Nursing Station

Ever thought something you were about to do was a terrible idea—possibly the worst idea of your entire life—then went ahead and did it anyway?

Yeah. Brooks knew the feeling.

He dropped his head into his hands, still a little shocked at what he’d just agreed to.

Stupidest man on the planet, probably. And the funny thing was, he’d known right away his sisters were up to something.

He first became mildly suspicious when he arrived at Macy’s house for dinner last night and found his nephews and brother-in-law Mark gone.

Sent to the arcade for the evening, or something.

Usually, an invitation to come over was nothing but a ploy to get him to wrestle his nephews to the point of exhaustion before bed, and he was always happy to oblige.

Quiet in this house was never a good sign.

The nagging sensation intensified when he found Sasha at the kitchen table.

Despite the calm house and the fact Macy hadn’t mentioned Sasha would be here, everything seemed normal at first glance.

Neither sister appeared on the brink of tears, so hopefully no one was dying, had their heart broken, or needed help covering up a crime.

Sasha was dressed for a night on the town, but she always was.

Macy looked a little ragged around the edges, but that was pretty standard, too.

He was on service at the hospital, and they’d had six new admits today ... Was it a full moon? He’d forgotten to check, so he probably looked closer to Macy’s end of the scale.

Nothing in the kitchen seemed amiss. The family dog was passed out on his bed in the corner, and a few kids’ toys sat discarded on the island.

His eye caught on Sasha again, because she’d always been the worst at keeping secrets, and that’s when he noticed the massive spread of Pub W takeout on the table.

His favorite.

He froze in the kitchen doorway, alarm bells screaming in his head. “No.”

Sasha tapped her bright-pink nails on the table. “What?”

“Whatever it is you want, the answer is no.”

From her perch near the refrigerator, Macy glared at Sasha. “I told you Pub W was too much.”

Sasha ignored her and frowned at him, tossing brown hair over her shoulder. “Your sisters can’t invite you over for a meal? Just the three of us? We never hang out anymore.”

“No.”

“Would you sit down and hear us out?” Macy rotated and grabbed a bottle of his favorite craft beer from the artwork-covered fridge and a frosted glass from the freezer.

Wow. Whatever they wanted must be big.

He walked forward and took both. “Fine.” He poured and sat down. Grabbing a plate, he loaded it with chicken nachos, because he sure as hell wasn’t letting them go to waste.

A moment of silence passed while he ate. He kept his eyes down, adding jalapeno poppers and baked pretzels, enjoying the food and beer. While part of him would like to completely ignore his sisters’ presence, he also wanted to get this thing moving.

To be clear, he loved his sisters more than life itself. But sometimes they could be a little ... meddle-y.

“So what’s up?” he prompted.

Macy glanced at Sasha, so Brooks followed suit. It wasn’t a good sign that whatever they wanted to ask was his younger sister’s idea.

“It’s about the magazine,” Sasha said, her voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. “It’s not going so well.”

Brooks set his napkin down. “What do you mean?”

LiveOKC was their mother’s brainchild. After growing up in Oklahoma City, she’d moved to the West Coast to pursue a journalism degree, where she’d interned at a local lifestyle newspaper.

When she graduated, she moved back home, determined to provide a stronger connection between the community and their city.

What started as a weekly small business feature distributed with the Sunday paper became its own independent publication and, eventually, a multicity media company.

Deborah Martin wanted to improve the reputation of the flyover state she called home, especially for the younger demographic.

She wanted her hometown to be a place where people wanted to stay.

After she died, both Macy and Sasha eventually joined the company—Macy on the corporate media side and Sasha as the head of the magazine.

Their mom had passed down her passion for their city, and after college they’d both been determined to honor her and the place they called home.

Even though Brooks had deviated and gone into medicine, he had an emotional stake in the company—especially the magazine—and followed its content religiously.

For the Martin siblings, watching LiveOKC succeed wasn’t only important, it was personal.

“I’m sorry I haven’t brought it up before now, but it’s not unusual for us to have low phases. I didn’t want to panic unless it stayed down.”

“I’m guessing it has?”

Sasha nodded. “We’re down subscribers both in print and digital, seeing less traffic on the website, and our social media numbers have plateaued. People’s inboxes are already too full, and new social platforms are popping up all the time. We’re trying to keep up, but something’s not working.”

That didn’t sound good. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He was invested now that he knew it had to do with the family business, but still didn’t know what it had to do with him. Did she need money?

Sure, he was a doctor now, but he’d just finished his fellowship and had a hell of a lot of student loans to repay.

“I’ve had two businesses pull their advertisements, and I’m afraid more will follow if we don’t make it worthwhile for them to stay. Which won’t happen if there’s not interest in our content. I need to do something new to bring people back and attract new subscribers.”

“Okay, that sounds like a good idea.” His gaze involuntarily floated to the doorway of Macy’s office, where three framed LiveOKC covers hung in a row behind her desk: one of the inaugural issue, one of the issue that had featured their mom and the creation story of the business, and a rotation of the current cover.

Even though Macy had broader oversight than just the magazine, she said she wanted the reminder of what it was all for.

Carrying on their mom’s legacy.

“So how can I help?”

Sasha hesitated. “Macy?”

Macy shook her head. “Nu-uh. You ask him. This is your thing.”

“It was your idea!”

“No, it was your idea. I just suggested we use Brooks as our subject.”

Whoa, subject? He’d marginally relaxed when he realized this might just be a group brainstorm to save a business they all cared about, but now? Apprehension crawled back up his spine.

Sasha crossed her arms. “This whole thing came up when you said you were worried about Brooks.”

What?

He held up a hand and directed his attention to Macy. “Worried about me? Why?”

His older sister sighed heavily, sinking deeper into her chair. “Because all you do is work. When’s the last time you went out with friends? Went on a date?”

“I see James all the time.”

“James doesn’t count.”

“Why not? He’s my best friend.”

“You only see him at work!”

“We went out for beers a couple weeks ago.”

“Okay, fine, so you have one friend you haven’t completely cut out. What about women?”

Brooks scrubbed a hand down his face. “What about them?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Depends on what you mean by that.” Actually, regardless of how they aimed that question, his answer was the same.

He’d had a perfect no-strings-attached arrangement with his old coresident, Ashley, but she’d taken a job in Minnesota several months back.

Currently he wasn’t seeing anyone in any sense of the word .

.. But he didn’t like where this was headed, and they didn’t need to know that.

Sasha scrunched her nose. “Ew. We meant, like, dating. Going out. Getting to know someone.”

“I spent the last three years in a grueling critical-care fellowship. Before that, I was in residency. And before that, I was busting my ass not to fail out of medical school. Not a lot of time for dating, as you might imagine. What do you want from me?”

“Your fellowship ended almost a year ago,” Macy pointed out.

“Yeah, and I’ve been working in an overflowing ICU floor ever since. I’m the newest attending, and we’re down two FTEs. That’s how this stuff works.”

“Brooks.”

He mirrored her tone. “Macy.”

“You got a cat .”

“So?” He took a long gulp of beer. She better have stocked the fridge, because he’d need another in about thirty seconds.

“And you started gardening,” Sasha put in.

His cheeks heated. “How did you know about that?”

“You posted a sad-looking picture of a tomato plant on Instagram.”

One, he forgot he’d posted that.

Two, he was proud of that endeavor. Setting up that tiny raised bed in his backyard had been more work than he’d expected. “It won’t seem so sad when I’m enjoying homemade salsa in a few months. Watch: It’ll be better than Pub W’s.”

His sisters exchanged another look.

Macy leaned forward, clasping her hands together on the table as if she were a credentialed therapist. “We think you’re depressed, Brooks.”

“Do what, now?”

“To be fair, she’s the one who said ‘depressed,’” Sasha said. “I said you were lonely.”

Brooks shifted his gaze between them, eyes wide.

“Ease up, ladies. I’m not depressed or lonely.

I’m just busy . I wanted a pet, so what?

And my diet’s been shit the last several years.

My body composition is basically protein bars and caffeine.

I liked the idea of having fresh vegetables around. What’s the big deal?”

They stared back at him, Sasha with a sad, pseudopitying expression and Macy with a bland I-don’t-believe-you-for-a-second look.