Page 2 of Unlocked Dive

“I think you mean scary when he’s pissed.”

Aaron shrugs. “That too. He obviously cares about you.”

I let my eyes drift around the empty room, the flowers just starting to curl at the edges in the slanting light. My dad has always been proud of me, excited to have me as a son, but I’m not sure it’s the kind of love Aaron’s thinking of. But no need to dump my daddy issues all over him on top of my obvious insanity.

“He gets the job done.” Let him take that how he will. It’s mostly true in the ways that matter.

“Anyway, you want those clothes? The T-shirt will be kind of a bitch with the IV, but we can make it work. And I can pull the catheter now that they’ve switched you to oral meds.” He taps the chart in his hand and gives me an encouraging smile.

I can only spare a brief second to mourn the loss of the Dilaudid drip because my mind is stuck on his second offer.

“Are you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to touch my dick?”

Oh my god. Shut the fuck up, Echo.

But his quirk of a smile is slightly less professional this time. Or maybe that’s my dreams fucking with me. Probably a good thing they’re taking me off the drip.

Every sexy nurse porno I’ve ever seen had it dead wrong.

My dope-soaked dick doesn’t even twitch when Aaron wraps his responsibly gloved fingers around it and pulls the fucking piss tube free. The whole thing takes five seconds, and then he’s helping me into the boxer briefs and sweatpants my mom picked out like I really am a helpless toddler.

He doesn’t offer to kiss it better, and I don’t ask, my mouth apparently—finally—grasping the nature of our new reality.

2

Byrd

“Please tell me you at least got laid before you left the city.”

“Reggie.”

She ignores the warning growl in my voice. Probably because I sound more tired than threatening.

“It’s been over five months, Byrd.”

Ouch. Actually,double ouch. Reggie is the only person in my life besides my family who still insists on calling me Coen. If she’s breaking out the nickname, it means she’s trying to make a point.

“We only signed the divorce papers yesterday,” I remind her.

“After being separated forfive months. And now what? Your plan is to wallow for another five, alone in the middle of nowhere?”

“It’s a three-quarter-million-dollar cabin in the redwoods, Reggie.” I smile at the thought. “It’s perfect for wallowing.”

“Unacceptable.” Even through the Bluetooth in my 4-Runner, I can tell she’s not amused. “I have a job offer for you.”

“I’m not coming home.” I’m already past Santa Rosa, the last real bastion of civilization in Sonoma County. Onlywinter-blue hills and bare vineyards line the last stretch of highway between me and towering solitude.

“It’s not in Tilburg. In fact, you can do it from your mansion in the woods.” Her voice softens. “But you should come home sometime, Coen. We miss you.”

It’s nine hours later in the Netherlands, which means she’s probably curled up in her loft bedroom with a glass of wine and her laptop. I think about changing the subject, asking her if she’s started the new season ofWhite Lotusyet, or if she’s rewatching one of her nineties teen soap operas for the hundredth time.

“What kind of job, Reggie? I have wallowing to do.”

She snorts, letting me pretend it’s a joke because she’s known me since way before Lara and she’s a good friend.

“There’s this kid…”

“I’m not handling private auditions anymore,” I cut in. “And I’m on sabbatical from Cirque.”