Page 74 of Undeniably Enemies

“A few years ago, shortly after I moved back to Boston. I cooked in Seattle for myself, and growing up, my mom had ahuge sweet tooth, so we’d bake together a lot. But during medical school, baking relaxed me. It’s a process that requires precision and skill and practice. Even then, it’s easy to fuck it up.”

“Sort of like medicine.”

“Yes, but burning cookies isn’t the same as killing someone.”

“True,” he concedes. “I’ll grant you that.”

I unwrap the frozen bread and pull apart a few slices to stick in the toaster before I take another sip of my coffee. It’s seriously good. Much better than the crap we get at work or what I tend to make for myself here. Usually I grab my coffee out, but this is a nice treat.

“What made you pick emergency medicine?”

Yet another thing I won’t answer. “The adrenaline,” I lie.

He must hear it in my voice because he looks back over at me, trying to read my expression, but I hide my face in the fridge as I pull out the honey butter and raspberry jam I made last week and set them on the kitchen counter.

“What about you?”

The toast pops up in the toaster, and I press it back down since it needs another round in there.

“I was going to be a trauma surgeon like my dad.” He throws me a quick glance. “For the adrenaline.” Returning to the eggs, he continues. “A cleat sliced open my hand my sophomore year of college and severed a nerve. It was a freak thing. It was wet and I wasn’t wearing a glove, and it was just bad luck. I had surgery, but there went my football scholarship along with my career in surgery.”

I vaguely remember this. Not the details, but the hand and him having surgery. I was, wow, I was only ten. Our age difference feels really big when you think about it like that.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was awful. I was devastated. It sent me into a hugedepression. I loved football, and I had wanted to be a surgeon my entire life.”

Wow. People are rarely that blunt. Usually they just sayyeah, it suckedand move on. Not Jack. We’re doing the honesty thing. At least he is. And if this were a real date and if he were a real guy for me with a chance at a real future, I’d tell him. I’d tell him because any guy I actually date would need to know. But Jack isn’t that guy, and I won’t start opening myself up to him emotionally.

Not now. Not ever.

Luckily I’m saved by the bell. Literally since our toast pops up and is finally done. So are the eggs, and we make our plates and sit at the counter side by side to eat.

“Shit, Wren,” he garbles around a mouthful. “This is seriously fucking good. Tyson wasn’t kidding. You have real talent in the kitchen.”

“Good to know that if this medicine gig doesn’t work out for me, I have a fallback.”

He gives me an unimpressed look. “You’re a Fritz.”

“So?”

“So you don’t need a fallback.”

That shit just pisses me off. “I’m not simply living off my trust fund, Jack. I know you think I’m a spoiled princess, but I work hard.”

He sighs, looking contritely at me as he holds his mug in his hands and then sets it down. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You work very hard, I’ve seen it, and your place doesn’t scream billionaire princess. You’re going to be an amazing doctor, Wren. I don’t doubt that.” He sighs again. “You like hating me, but I wish you didn’t. I wish…” He laughs, almost as if what he’s thinking is ridiculous.

“What? Say it.”

“I wish we could be friends or at least friendly.”

I’m not sure if I can be friends with him, but to a certain degree, what choice do I have?

“Maybe. Maybe once the dust has settled between us and this weekend is a long, forgotten memory we can be. By the start of my intern year next summer, we should be fine.”

He frowns. “That’s a while off, sweetheart. I just wish you weren’t going to be in my ER.”

I shrug, finishing off my toast. “Tough shit.”

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