Page 18 of Doctor Hot Mess

“Excuse me,” Mason says, placing a hand over his chest like I’ve mortally wounded him. “Are you sayingI’mnot enough reason to be excited to be back?”

I grin, nudging him with my elbow. “You’re the highlight, obviously. But you're hardly available, anyway. I'm just in a funk, I guess.”

"Exactly. Just like I said. Dr. McHot Mess."

I roll my eyes. “Not everything’s about Jonah, Mason.”

He grins. “But in this case?”

I sigh. “Fine. It’s just awkward. Seeing him every day at the hospital and being reminded of how casually he thinks about our…indiscretion. I don't want to be confronted with it on the daily. It’s like he doesn’t even realize it was disrespectful. Like, come on, read the room. I thought we were better friends than that.”

Mason nods, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Ah, yes. The Jonah Effect: charming until he opens his mouth and ruins it.”

I laugh despite myself. “Exactly. I don’t care about him like that, Mason. I don’t. But I also didn’t come back here to feel like I’m stuck replaying some stupid mistake from two years ago. I’ve moved on, but he’s making it hard to forget why I left.”

Mason leans in, his tone light but pointed. “Well, babe, let’s be real: Jonah Bellinger doesn’t get to dictate your happiness. This city isn’t just him. It’s me, it’s good food, it’s live music, and it’s home. Don’t let him ruin that.”

I smile, some of the tension in my chest easing. “You’re right. It’s just work. I’ll keep my head down, do my job, and move on.”

“Damn right,” Mason says, grinning. “And in the meantime, you get the joy of hanging out with me. This city isn’t big enough for Jonah Bellinger and Mason Rivera, and I think we both know who’s the real main character here.”

SEVEN

Jonah

Friday, February 13

Jonah’s Condo

The Paramount Residences, 2100 Highland Avenue South

8:14 PM

The weightof a thirteen-hour shift settles deep in my bones as I pull into my complex. All I want is a cold beer, a hot shower, and maybe ten uninterrupted minutes to remind myself why I love my job.

But the moment I turn off the engine, I spot her.

A figure sits on the steps leading up to my condo, a duffel bag slumped at her feet. Even in the dim porch light, I recognize her instantly—Lila. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, her chin tucked down like she’s trying to disappear into herself.

“Lila?” I call out as I climb out of the car. She looks up, and my stomach drops.

Her face is pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. A split lip and faint bruise on her cheek tell me she’s had more than just a rough week.

“Hey, brother,” she says, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Surprise. Your baby sister came for a visit.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, walking closer. I paste on a smile so I don't give away that seeing her is not necessarily a pleasant one. If she's here like this, it can't be good. “Big surprise is an understatement. Are you okay? What the hell are you doing here?”

She shrugs, glancing away. “Yeah, I'm good. I just thought I’d drop in on my favorite big brother. Isn’t that what family’s for?”

“Well, since you only have one big brother, I’m not sure that’s much of a compliment,” I say jokingly, but I recognize immediately the familiar trait that all of us Bellingers have in spades: using humor to deflect. “Lila, come on. What’s going on? It’s freezing out here. Let’s get you inside.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her fingers tug at the strap of her bag like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, and her breath clouds in the cold air. “It’s a long story.”

“Then you can tell me over a sandwich and a warm drink,” I say, motioning for her to follow me. “Come on.”

She hesitates while I grab her bag and lead us to my door. I notice how she keeps one hand in her pocket like she's protecting the Rosetta Stone. That split lip and the bruise on her cheek catch the light as she steps closer, and something twists in my gut.

The door clicks shut behind us, sealing out the February chill. I gesture toward the couch, where a soft throw blanket drapes over the back. I flip a switch, and the gas fireplace roars to life.

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