Page 84 of Citius

“We work together, and you’re my neighbor. It’s not ethical.”

“Fine.”

“He’s the best, Wyatt. I wouldn’t recommend him otherwise.”

“Because you care?”

The question was beyond loaded—a many-pronged cudgel, a Morningstar aimed straight for my gut. But I played it cool.

“On some level, yes. I do.”

“But you resent me.”

“I think that goes both ways.”

“No, Morgan—no. Never.” He blew out an unsteady breath. “We were more than this—”

I stepped forward and hissed, “Stop.”

“I—I…” He swallowed hard but didn’t lose his nerve for once. “It’s still there for me.”

Congrats, I wanted to shout in his face. We’re both plagued by the same paranormal romantic activity. Aren’t we special?

The world’s most pathetic non-exes, who couldn’t even manage to make it to a single date before crashing and burning. Whose relationship couldn’t even weather one irate phone call.

Or so I’ve been told.

It didn’t matter how it went down. There was nothing left to resuscitate.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Wyatt continued to press the matter. “Haven’t you ever thought—”

“No,” I snapped in quiet anger. “Because I’m not worth losing your job over.” I started down the sidewalk, trying to outrun my rising temper. “I’ll text you a door code.”

“Wait,” he called. “The housewarming. Did you get invited?”

I stopped, cursing myself for forgetting. That was the whole point of this exercise in futility—to keep Wyatt from suffocating their party guests.

“Yes. Piper, too.” My aching head fell back, searching for absent relief. “Do they know?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. Owen might suspect something, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll tell them. Might take a few days, though.”

I nodded, and we went our separate ways into the deepening twilight.

Twenty-Four

Morgan

Iwas done. A weary carcass, defeated by a grueling week, picked too clean even for vultures to bother with. I lay in a heap on the living room couch Friday evening, Tenny snuggled against my stomach like a hot water bottle.

My inbox and phone had a pest infestation. An influx of new patient requests had flooded in after my fellowship location was publicized online, and the suspicious—sometimes outright hostile—looks from certain football staff and players had only grown worse. I spent what little free time I had at the training center reassuring Reyhan, Landon, and the rest of my allies that everything was fine.

I only hoped Alijah didn’t notice anything unusual at tomorrow’s game. He’d only just calmed down about the social media nonsense.

Next week had to be better. It just had to be.

Kelsey paused her dinner prep to bring me a lidded tumbler of water. “Status check.”

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