Page 25 of The Bad Brother
I T’S BEEN A WEEK AND THREE DAYS since our little episode in the hallway last Monday night and Jensen hasn’t so much as looked at me.
No friendly have a nice day, Peach after torturing me with cold water and no electricity.
No flat tires. No snide remarks about my not being a doctor or even calling me a slut or a liar, outright.
Every night after I get home, I listen for him in the hall.
When I hear him, I scurry toward the door like a crazy person and watch him open his own through the peephole, hoping against hope that he’ll at least look in my direction.
He never does. It’s as if I’ve ceased to exist and it’s driving me absolutely, batshit crazy.
Out of desperation, I even showered at the loft this morning before work in hopes that he’d be watching and cut the hot water, just so I could force a confrontation.
Are you sure it’s a confrontation you want, Sloane or is it for him to lose his temper and overpower you like he did after you threatened to zap him in the balls with your stun gun?
I purposely took a thirty-minute shower and the water ran hot the entire time. If Jensen is watching, he’s not playing his usual, get rid of Sloane games anymore.
Good. Fine.
What happened between us was pure insanity and I’m definitely not looking for a repeat.
Liar… liar…
Pushing Jensen and what happened between us out of my mind, I distract myself by fantasizing about all the things I’m going to buy when my automatic deposit hits my new checking account tomorrow morning.
Things like coffee and half and half that didn’t come from the hospital cafeteria.
Crackers and soup that didn’t expire six months ago.
Maybe I’ll even splurge and grab some take-out on the way home from the Chinese place by the hospital.
I can ask Sera where she got the wine she and River brought over.
By the time I have my mental list compiled, not even the fact that I’m due to have lunch with my mother at the club on Saturday is enough to dampen my mood.
My phone buzzes on the dresser while I’m putting on my socks.
Sure it’s my mother since I haven’t heard from her in a few days, I drop my foot and reach for my cell because if I don’t answer her, she’ll show up at the hospital and get me fired.
Seeing a text from an unfamiliar number, I feel my stomach flip-flop into my throat because my first thought is that it’s Jensen.
That he got my number from River and he’s finally decided to acknowledge me after eleven days of silent treatment.
It's not Jensen.
Unknown: You blocked my number.
Because there are only two people I’ve blocked on my phone and I know it’s not Amy because now that she got what she wanted from me, there’s no reason for her to reach out. Pretending to be my friend served its purpose. That means that the person texting me is Ethan.
Me: What do you want, Ethan?
Unknown: The engagement ring. It was my mother’s and I want to give it to Amy.
Reading his text, I expect that punched in the gut feeling I had when I last talked to him but all I feel is anger and disgust. Thinking about all the things of mine he kept, I want to tell him tough shit but realize that none of it matters.
Not if it means being free of him. I already called the registrar at Duke and requested an official copy of my med school diploma.
That’s the only thing I really care about.
Me: I’ll leave it for you at the information desk at the hospital. You can pick it up there.
Unknown: Don’t be stupid. That ring is worth more than most people make in a year. You’re not going to just leave it at some public information desk.
A month ago, I’d be in a panic at the thought that I’d upset or displeased him somehow. Now, reading his message and knowing he’s trying to intimidate me, just makes me even angrier.
Me: Yes, I am. If you want it, that’s where it’ll be.
After sending the text, I block the number Ethan is using and close my phone to finish getting ready for work.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, I’M READY FOR work and heading out the door when I get another text. This one from Rita, the realtor my boss at the hospital set me up with.
Rita: Good news! I think I found the perfect place for you.
It’s in Barrett. It’s on Cedar street, in a quiet neighborhood and the rent is more than reasonable.
Best part is that it’s only twenty minutes from the hospital.
It’s going to rent fast so if you’re still interested, we need to set up an appointment to see it, ASAP. Let me know.
Standing in the hallway, my key to the loft dangling from the doorknob, I have the immediate urge to text her back with a polite no thank you, I found a place on my own but I can’t because I haven’t.
This arrangement is only temporary. I’m paid up on the loft for three months.
When my time here is up, I’ll be homeless again.
Regardless of what happened between us, Jensen doesn’t want me here.
There’s no way he’ll let me sign another lease.
If I let the place Rita found go, I’ll run the risk of being homeless again in a few months, which will put me right back where I started.
Staring at my phone for a few moments, I shove it back in my bag without answering her either way.
Making my way downstairs, sounds and smells that I’ve grown used to over the last few weeks drift up to greet me.
Low volume music playing on the juke box.
The sound of a vacuum being run. The smell of sizzling beef and fried potatoes.
It’s after eleven so that means Jensen is behind the bar, getting ready for the Barrett’s noon open while a pair of old ladies tidy up the place.
It's a straight shot from the stairs to the front door, Sloane. You can do it. So what if Jensen gave you the hardest orgasms you’ve ever experienced in your entire life a few days ago and now he’s acting like you don’t exist. Eyes front.
Don’t attempt engagement. Begging for attention will only make you look and feel pathetic, which is undoubtedly his goal.
Squaring my shoulders, I step out of the stairwell, directly to the right of the bar, my gaze focused on the open front door in front of me. Through it, I can see my car. All four of my tires are inflated. How insane am I for feeling disappointment when I see them?
Don’t think about it. Don’t look at him. Keep walking. Don’t ? —
“Dr. Merrick?”
Hearing my name, I stop in my tracks and turn to find the sheriff sitting at the bar, a glass of iced tea and a half-eaten burger in front of him.
“Sheriff Montgomery.” Flicking a quick look at Jensen, I feel my jaw tighten and my stomach sink because he still won’t look at me.
As a matter of fact, he looks like he wants to throw up at the sound of my voice.
Forcing a friendly smile onto my face, I ignore Jensen’s obvious discomfort and push myself closer to the bar. “It’s been a while, how are you?”
“Good…” Nodding, he gives me a puzzled smile. “Are you living here?” After he says it, he looks at Jensen who looks like he wants to bolt out the door because the unspoken end to his question is obvious— with Jensen?
“I am, actually.” Flicking another quick look at Jensen, I keep smiling. “I’m renting the loft across the hall from Jensen’s place.”
“Oh.” His mouth stretches into a grin, making the resemblance to his twin brother instantly uncanny. Dividing his smile between me and the nauseous looking man behind the bar, he shakes his head. “I didn’t know Jen’d finally decided to let the place go.”
Jensen gives me a quick look, his jaw clenching with temper. Ignoring him, I nod. “It’s only temporary—just a few months. River told him about my predicament and Jensen was nice enough to give me a break on the rent until I find my feet.”
When I say it, the sheriff laughs out loud before looking at Jensen. “Jensen Barrett, philanthropist. First the motel thing and now here you are, rescuing damsels in distress. Uncle Tank’d shit wooden nickels if he was here to see it.”
“Fuck you,” Jensen growls at the sheriff from across the bar. “Seriously, Colt — fuck you .”
“Sorry, Cousin.” Instead of offended, the sheriff seems even more amused by Jensen’s reaction.
“You don’t want people to know you’re a good guy, stop doing good guy shit,” he says with a shrug before looking at me.
“Since this is just temporary, I own a duplex near the station and my tenants are getting ready to move out, if you’re looking for something a little more permanent.
I just put it on the market this morning but if you?—”
“I think my realtor just texted me about it,” I tell him. “Is it on Cedar street?”
“That’s me.” He bobs his head on a grin. “If you’re interested, I can hold off the other applicants. We can set up a time for you to come see the place.”
“I am,” I say, bobbing my head before I chance a quick look at Jensen. He doesn’t look sick anymore. He looks like he wants to murder someone. “I mean, I might be. I’m on a tight budget these days so it all depends.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” he says with a quick grin. “It might be beneficial to have a doctor in the house.”
“We do have our uses,” I say on a laugh.
I swear to god, Jensen just growled.
Pretending I don’t notice, I give the sheriff a sunny smile. “I’ll call Rita and set up a time to come see it. Thank you, it was good to see you again, Sheriff.”
“Call me Colt,” he says with another friendly smile.
“Okay, Colt, ” Because my response to the sheriff obviously gained a reaction, I doubled down with a flirty smile. “But only if you call me Sloane,” I tell him while slowly backing my way toward the door.
“Deal.” Still grinning, he picks up his half-eaten burger. “Looking forward to it, Sloane.”
Still smiling, I look at Jensen. “Have a good day, Jensen,” I say because 1) not acknowledging him after singing his praises would be weird, and 2) I want very much to annoy him.
“You too.” He’s looking right at me when he says it, his expression clear— get the fuck out of my bar.
Deciding I’ve pressed my luck enough for one day, I turn for the door to find the ever-changing pair of women cleaning the bar, frozen in place and blatantly watching our exchange like it’s their favorite TeleNovela.
“Have a good day, ladies,” I say with a friendly smile before walking out the door and heading to work.