Page 57 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“I don't know, June,” I say, turning sideways to examine myself from another angle. “This dress is…a lot. And these heels?—“

“Are perfect,” she finishes for me, a satisfied smile on her face.

“You need to stop arguing and just embrace it,” June snorts, wagging her finger playfully. “You look amazing, and you’re coming out with us tonight. No more excuses.”

I eye the dress with suspicion. It is undeniably flattering. I’m not used to showcasing this much skin. My usual attire leans toward comfort and practicality—jeans, t-shirts, and the occasional flowy sundress. This is a whole new level of “out there” for me.

“Maybe I should just stay home. Ethan…”

“Ethan's having a sleepover at the Michael's,” June rolls her eyes. “There's no escape with babysitting duty tonight. You only use those to mope around, anyway.”

She has a point. The past few days have been a blur of self-pity and unanswered questions. Liam's silence hangs heavy in the air, suffocating me with its ambiguity.

“Okay!” I sigh, still feeling uncertain.

June, seeing a shift in my resolve, pounces. “Exactly!” she crows, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, let's get you glammed up for a night of fun!”

Before I can protest further, June whisks me into a chair at the dresser, and the next fifteen minutes are a whirlwind of makeup application, hairstyling consultations, and hesitant modeling sessions in front of the mirror. With a final flourish, June applies a bright red lipstick. Stepping back, she surveys her handiwork, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

“There you go,” she declares, clapping her hands together. “You look incredible, Emma! Like a sassy vixen ready to take on the world!” She adds an outrageous wink that sends me doubling over in laughter.

When I look up to study my reflection in the mirror, a stranger is staring back at me. This woman in the fiery red dress looks confident, a hint of a playful glint in her eyes.

Tentatively, I turn a slow circle, the dress swishing around my legs with a soft rustle. It feels different, unfamiliar, yet strangely exhilarating. A nervous flutter dances in my stomach, a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of anticipation.

Just then, Damon's booming voice echoes through the house. “Ladies! Are you ready?”

“Almost there, big guy!” June calls back, “Give us five more minutes!”

June helps me zip up the back of the dress, her touch lingering on my spine for a comforting moment. Then, with a flourish, she hands me the silver earrings. “The finishing touch,” she declares.

As I fasten them in place, June leans in and kisses my cheek. “You got this, Em,” she whispers, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement as she turns around and finalize her own dressing as well.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself. It is time to face the night, whatever it may bring. I emerge from the room first, finding Damon leaning against the doorway. A whistle escaping his lips as he takes me in. “Wow,” he says, his eyes widening. “Who’s this and what have you done with my sister?”

A flush creeps up my neck, but a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “Shut up, Damon,” I reply, my voice a little breathless. The unfamiliar high heels wobble slightly beneath me, and I instinctively reach out to steady myself against the wall.

Damon's grin widens. “Whoa there, careful with those stilettos,” he chuckles, reaching out to offer me his arm. “Don't want you injuring yourself before the night even starts.”

I take his arm gratefully, the solid reassurance of his touch grounding me a little. June sashays out behind me, her emerald-green dress shimmering under the soft glow of the hallway light.

“Alright,” she declares, her voice laced with playful impatience. “Let's get this party started!”

We pile into Damon's truck, the familiar scent of leather and faint pine needles filling the air. As Damon pulls away from the curb, the quiet streets of my neighborhood give way to the bustling heart of town. A knot of apprehension tightens in my stomach. My usual Friday night routine involves curling up on the couch with a good book, a mug of tea warming my hands, and maybe an episode or two of my favorite show.

Tonight will be a world of thumping bass lines and flashing lights. It feels exciting, and a little bit terrifying all at once.

We pull up in front of the club, the pulsing music vibrating through the floorboards of the truck. Damon hops out, his usual boundless energy radiating from him.

“Alright, ladies,” he announces, throwing open his door with a flourish. “Let's paint the town red…or green…or whatever color your fabulous outfits are!”

June and I laugh as we step out into the pulsating night. As soon as the club’s door swings open, we’re immersed in banging noise and whirling strobe lights casting the room in a dizzying array of colors. There are quite a number of bodies moving on the dance floor in a hypnotic rhythm, and the air is thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and something slightly more potent that I can't quite place… Maybe the alcohol.

June grabs my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Let’s find a table, Em,” she shouts over the music.

We weave through the throng of dancing bodies, the crowd parting like a wave around us. Suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the din.

“Damon! There you are, man!”

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