Page 35 of The Bad Brother

S OMETHING JENSEN SAID TO ME LAST night keeps replaying in my head.

…my brother hates me enough to send someone across the river to open me up with a razorblade.

I don’t know who his brother is or why he hates him so much but I know this—as inexplicable as it seems, he’s from Clearwater.

That means Jensen Barrett is from Clearwater.

His last name alone disproves my theory.

What little I know about the history of the town tells me that the Barrett family is its founders.

Settled here in the early 1800s, they built a town on the banks of a river they named after themselves.

When Texas became a state and was eventually divided into counties, they named that after themselves too.

It wasn’t until investors bought the land on the other side of the Barrett river in the 70s and developed it into a posh, idyllic town where rich men can play golf between oil deals while their trophy wives and mistresses shop at Louis Vitton and Cartier, did they have neighbors.

My stepfather’s family, along with Ethan’s and a few others, were on the original investment team and they wasted no time in turning the open land north of the Barrett into their own personal, private playground. I can’t imagine their invasion sat well with the people who lived in Barrett.

Creekers.

That’s what they call the people who live in Clearwater.

That’s what Jensen called me.

And he’s one of them.

As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Not that it matters to me, one way or the other beyond the fact that it provides me another piece of the puzzle that is Jensen Barrett.

This is what I’m thinking about, scarfing down a quick dinner of warm yogurt and burnt coffee between patients.

It’s not quite as busy as our usual Friday nights, but busy enough to keep me moving.

When my phone buzzes in the pocket of my lab coat, I take a quick glance at the clock hanging above the breakroom door.

Just after 7PM. Frowning, I pull it out of my pocket, sure it’s going to be another text from Ethan, harassing me from yet another number I haven’t blocked yet.

He got his mother’s ring back. I checked.

He picked it up yesterday afternoon, causing a scene when the volunteer at the information desk refused to page me to come talk to him.

Worried that he’s going to claim he didn’t or that it was stolen and try to hold me financially responsible, I swipe the message open.

It’s not from Ethan. It’s from my mother.

Mom: See you tomorrow at 2pm.

Shit.

I’d completely forgotten that I promised my mother lunch at the country club.

Me: I can’t do it that late, Mom. My shift starts at noon. Can we meet at 10 for brunch instead?

Mom: No. It has to be at 2. I can’t meet any earlier than that.

Suppressing the urge to throw my phone, I grit my teeth while I type out my response.

Me: Then we’re going to have to reschedule. I’m free all day Sunday and Monday.

Mom: Take the day off. We can go shopping afterward

Me: I can’t just take the day off. That’s not how being a doctor works.

Mom: If you ask me, you shouldn’t be working at all. You should be dedicating all of your time and energy into winning Ethan back.

She’s relentless.

Me: I don’t want Ethan back.

Mom: Well, you need someone to take care of you, Sloane. You’re not getting any younger.

I have someone. Someone who cares about how I feel. Someone who makes me feel. Someone who picks me wildflowers and asks me if I ate breakfast. Someone who can’t stand the thought of me leaving without saying goodbye. Someone who got down on his knees and begged me to stay.

Me: I’m at work. I don’t have time for this conversation.

Mom: Fine

Because I know her and that she’d never give up that easily, I’m not at all surprised when a slightly frazzled nurse finds me to tell me that Dr. Ragnar wants to see me in her office while I’m filling out discharge paperwork for one of my patients.

Ten minutes later, I’m knocking on Ragnar’s closed office door. unlike last time, there are no voices. Ragnar is alone which means at least my mother didn’t come down here and cause a scene in person this time.

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, I stop in the doorway to watch while my boss stands up from her desk and starts to collect her things, obviously waiting for me to make an appearance before she can leave for the day. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“No, Dr. Merrick,” she says on a tone, ripe with irritation. “I didn’t want to speak with you. As a matter of fact, I’d sincerely hoped that after our discussion a few weeks ago, that you and I were finished speaking to each other about matters pertaining to your personal life.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t want to hear it because I don’t care.

” Pulling her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk, Dr. Ragnar slings it over her shoulder, holding up a hand to silence my apology before I can even give it a voice.

“I let the fact that your ex-fiancé was here, causing problems yesterday, slide because I sympathize with your situation and I understand that his bad behavior is beyond the scope of your control.”

Bracing her fists against her desk, she leans into me over the top of it with a stern look.

“Your mother, however, is very much within that scope and given the fact that you assured me I’d heard the last of her, I was both surprised and irritated when she called me, on my personal cell phone no less , to tell me that you canceled your lunch appointment with her—a lunch appointment that you assured me you would make. ”

“I didn’t cancel,” I try to explain, even as I silently tell myself to shut up. “I just asked her to?—”

“I know.” Lifting her hand again on a weary sigh, Ragnar shakes her head. “Your mother told me everything, ad nauseum . For the good of this hospital and the good of your career, you’re taking tomorrow off and you’re meeting your mother for lunch—end of discussion.”

Even though taking the day off is the last thing I want to do, I give her a stiff head nod. “Okay.”

When I say it, Ragnar’s shoulders sag slightly.

“Everything I said to your mother was true. You are one of the most gifted surgeons I’ve ever seen and an invaluable asset to this hospital—but the next time I have to give you time off to deal with your personal life, it will be permanent. Am I making myself clear, Dr. Merrick?”

In other words, the next time my dumpster fire of a personal life interferes with my job, I’m fired.

I give her a nod while I fight back the sudden sting of humiliation and the tears that come with it. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Pushing herself upright, Dr. Ragnar flips her hand at me. “That’ll be all. Close the door on your way out.”