I wanted revenge! Not a death on my hands!
I mean, I would be lying if I said I didn’t often dream about him getting hit by a car, but in my dream, it was almost always a really slow car, driven by a slow grandmother, and he had a few scratches and got what was coming to him.
“Oh.” She seemed disappointed at this information, like a true friend hell-bent on making you feel better about an ex. When she’d encouraged me to eat all of the sushi and soy sauce, then gargle with the rest of the bottle for good measure, I didn’t think it would even do anything to the guy!
Sighing, I leaned against the cold park bench and looked at the picture his receptionist had sent us. Thankfully, it had only taken a few bribes to get the woman to join our side—and once we told her the dirty details, she couldn’t wait to join Team Austin and stick it to her boss—even though she did admit that he was the easiest doctor to work with.
Easy my ass!
This was war.
Casualties were all part of the game.
I scrunched up my nose and looked at the picture again.
Apparently, it was possible to still look damn sexy even with an ugly face rash.
His blond hair kissed his toned and tan shoulders, and his high cheekbones just made me want to practice with my sculpting kit on his face.
The guy’s bone structure was downright irritating.
“He wouldn’t tell me why.” I slumped against the bench.
“Told ya so.” Avery was still texting.
“I even gave him an ultimatum. Tell me why you cheated, why you broke my heart when things were going so great—I mean . . . I wanted closure, an answer, anything!” I threw my hands into the air and almost chucked my phone at Avery’s face.
“Take a deep breath,” Avery instructed. “What you wanted was for him to say he was sorry.”
My stupid lower lip trembled as I croaked out, “Yeah, maybe.”
It wasn’t still supposed to hurt this bad. I was beyond that stage, right? I did the crying-and-eating-my-feelings thing, and now I was pissed. Except, I’d actually seen him today, and all those emotions surged to the surface the minute he’d walked into the room. It felt like his piercing eyes saw right through me even though I’d arrived at his office in my best armor. A pencil skirt and sexy blouse with heels. I’d been prepared. But one could never be prepared for Thatch. He was muscular, tall, model gorgeous, and smart. The smart part really burned, because it just meant he had so much in his favor. I had always been the smart one, and then Thatch came into my life—gorgeous, perfect, intelligent Thatch—and he’d stolen my heart.
Avery’s voice made me jump in my seat. “You wanted him to say he was stupid, that he messed up, that Brooke-the-bitch accidently fell across his face, and he had no choice but to kiss her because Obi-Wan Kenobi was whispering in his ear that if he didn’t return the kiss, the Force would leave planet Earth.”
“STOP USING STAR WARS REFERENCES!”
“I can’t help it.” She slumped. “Lucas is forcing me to watch all of them . . . He put me on sex hiatus until I’m done.”
I patted her shoulder.
“The point,” she said, thrusting her hand into the air, “is that he couldn’t give you the answers you needed or wanted. Ergo”—she held out her other hand and winked—“we make him pay.”
“But not for long,” I said quickly. “I’m not that immature.”
She gave me a knowing look.
“What?” I shook my head. “I’m not. I’m an adult, and adults don’t get even when their ex-boyfriend sticks his tongue down someone else’s throat at their best friend’s fake engagement party.” Actually they did, but I was trying to sound like a responsible adult and not a psycho who wanted to inflict pain on his man parts, no matter how good they actually looked in those stupid spandex shorts.
We were quiet, and then Avery said, “Well, when you put it that way.”
“Whatever happened to the white picket fence?” I stood. “Or the cute dog? Or getting married in college! Whatever happened to a man keeping it the hell in his pants!”
“Amen, sister,” a woman said under her breath as she breezed by me.
“Thank you!” I called after her, and turned back to Avery. “Seriously. What happened to the dream?”
“The dream?” she repeated with a confused stare.
“The dream!” Did she really not get it? “Going to college, finding the love of your life, dating, getting married, having kids, struggling with bills, camping trips because you can’t afford to go on vacation! What the hell is wrong with society? I just want to eat hot dogs with my future husband and watch Netflix!”
“I don’t think camping trips are really my thing. Not that kind of dreamer, and hot dogs?” Avery patted my knee.
I shoved her hand away. “But the point is this, somehow, along the way, it’s like men have decided that it’s okay to stick their prick wherever they want and not suffer the consequences. And I’m sick of it! I’m tired of dating someone, falling for him, and then having him leave me because I’m the problem!” I kicked the dirt with my shoe. “I’m the NORMAL one, Avery!”
She winced.
“I mean not now. Now I’m angry, so you can’t count this against me.”
She stared at me for a minute, then gave me a single nod. “That’s fair.”
“He’s going to pay.” I thrust my hand into the air. “And I know just how I’m going to do it. He thinks a face rash that looks like herpes is bad? Well, by the time I’m done with him, he won’t forget the name Austin Rogers!”
“Good for you!” Avery stood and gave me a high five. “Just don’t kill him.”
“Hah, he should be so lucky.”
Chapter Four
THATCH
My face was on fire, and my entire office was still in an uproar over the award. News had already traveled about the big race I was supposedly doing with Troy and the mayor, which meant I somehow had to learn how to ride a bike between now and then or just sprain a muscle—any muscle—and bow out.
What should have been a simple practical joke spiraled out of control because, how amazing was it that I was a successful surgeon and also doing bike races? At least, that’s what the nurses kept saying every so often when I left the safety of my office. It didn’t matter that Troy had been racing for the past fifteen years. Troy wasn’t known as the Dr. McSteamy of the group. So help me God, if one more nurse asked me if I could stitch myself up like they saw on Grey’s Anatomy, I was going to lose my fucking mind.
My mouth still felt swollen. The only Benadryl in the office was in liquid form, and I chugged half the bottle. My allergic reaction was so severe that if I didn’t, I’d end up in the hospital.
I was able to collapse against the couch in my office before I face-planted against the door—my dreams were filled with a certain woman, only she tasted like Benadryl, and when I told her I was sorry, she told me to go die.