Chapter One

SHAY

Ten Years Later

"It's fine. Just a little cut," I insisted as Matt pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves and eyed the open wound decorating my arm. "Honestly, I don't even think it's that deep."

"It's deep," he argued sternly, squinting through his glasses as he sized up the damage. He reached out, but before he could even touch me, I sucked in a sharp breath, jerking back and narrowing my eyes into a dark glare. Matt scoffed, completely unphased by my injured-animal act. "You better pull your big girl pants on, Shay. I'm gonna have to touch it to see how bad it is."

With my nose scrunched and lips pursed, I forced myself to sit still as he once again reached out to examine the injury. "Anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner sucks?" I grumbled under my breath.

It didn't.

It was far from sucky, actually.

Matt wasn't only one of the most amazing doctors I'd ever met. He'd also become a good friend since I'd moved to Detroit five months ago, fresh out of nursing school and on a mission to finally start evening out some of the bad karma I'd collected earlier in my life.

"It's just a little cut," I repeated, this time a little less convincingly. Adrenaline had been my best friend up until this point, keeping the pain and panic at bay and encouraging me to be some damn superhero for a brief moment.

But as that feeling of invincibility began to disintegrate, it was replaced with a deep, throbbing pain and a tiny voice screaming, not exactly your smartest move, Shay.

"It's not just a little cut," Matt announced mockingly, continuing to dab away the blood that I'd smeared all down my arm and across my scrubs. "It's gonna need stitches. The hell were you thinking? He had a knife."

My nose crinkled again at the mention of stitches. Maybe if I focused on that, I wouldn't have to think about how Matt was right.

I'd made the mistake of trying to talk some sense into a drunk, six-foot-tall, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man with a hunting knife, and I was lucky all I'd come out the other side with was a gash in my arm.

"I was thinking about climbing on the front desk and body-slamming the dumb bastard," I huffed, shaking my head. "But instead, I tried to take the sensible route and talk him down from his drunken rage."

"Which is exactly why I'm so shocked," Matt scoffed, shaking his head. "You really thought this was the time to pretend you're so sensible? Really?"

"I can be sensible sometimes," I protested, frowning at the smug grin on his face as he stepped back and tugged the gloves from his hands. "I can!"

Laughter pulled my attention to the doorway. My best friend and roommate, Calli, leaned against the frame, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, our lie detector results have deemed that answer a load of shit. Please try again."

Matt chuckled under his breath, slipping by Calli with a sly high five. "I'll be back in a minute to do those stitches," he called back over his shoulder before disappearing into the hall.

"I am now regretting my choice to introduce the two of you." I sulked, knowing exactly why she was here and who had called her. At one stage, I'd thought she and Matt would make the cutest couple, so I invited Matt to come on a night out with Calli and me, unbeknownst to either of them, intent on playing matchmaker.

I figured out that night that Calli's type was certainly not that baby-faced, boy-next-door vibe that Matt had going on. And Matt's type was not Calli.

Matt's type was his wife he brought with him on that night out because they managed to get a babysitter for their two-year-old twin girls at the last minute.

After I got over my initial shock and embarrassment, the four of us had the best time, and we'd all been close ever since.

"Matt thought you might want a ride home," Calli announced as she walked over and hefted herself onto the edge of the hospital bed I was sitting on.

"No lecture, please."

"Nope," she answered, popping her P. "Let me have a look."

I narrowed my eyes at her but turned just slightly as she leaned in to look at the gash and started defending my actions. "It's fine, it'll—"

SMACK.

The impact of her hand hitting the back of my head had me pulling back. "Calli, what the he—"

"Are you insane?" she hissed through clenched teeth, though it was the tears I caught brimming in her eyes that suddenly made me regret my choices. "A man with a knife… you see a man with a knife, and you run the other way, Shay. You don't try to bargain with him."

It wasn't very often I saw Calli's vulnerable side.

She loved the people in her circle fiercely and had a take-no-shit approach when judging the actions and opinions of anyone outside that circle. I knew it the moment she entered my life, ready to beat the ever-loving shit out of the guy I was dating because she'd caught him trying to roofie my drink, that she was someone who I wanted to keep there forever.

I didn't know what I would do without her.

And the look on her face reminded me that she felt the same way.

"I know, I'm sorry," I finally admitted, allowing my shoulders to slump in defeat. "There were a couple of kids seated just a few feet away, and I could tell people in the room were scared, so I stormed in, thinking I could de-escalate things before they got too out of hand."

Calli sighed heavily and let out a breathy laugh. "Honestly, I expect nothing less than for you to be so ready to put yourself between him and everyone else like the sacrificial lamb." I screwed up my nose at the term, but Calli was prepared for the protest I was cultivating in my head and threw up her hands in surrender. "You know what I mean. I admire the strength you have. Where your first instinct is always to protect, not preserve."

The strength in me?

If there were any words I would choose to describe myself, the last on my list would be strong.

That's what she saw. Some brave, courageous hero leaping in front of men with knives to protect pure strangers. But she was wrong. Strength didn't drive me to do those things.

Weakness did.

Fear did.

My addiction, my past, and my memories did.

I was propelled forward because I was scared that the people who have become my present and will hopefully be my future, may one day hear about all the awful things I'd done and the shitty person I used to be.

I was scared that if I didn't keep pushing forward, fighting to do better and be better, the past me would catch up one day, and I would sink back into that deep, dark hole I dragged myself out of so many years ago.

I was not strong. I was just afraid of being weak.

"Okay, okay," Calli said when I didn't answer. "I'll shut up now."

Calli had been my best friend for five years. She was well aware of how I tended to shut down when any kind of attention was pointed in my direction. She knew it because she often acted as a distraction to protect me whenever the spotlight moved in my direction for any reason.

I rolled my eyes dramatically, elbowing her in the ribs. "For someone who occasionally carries a gun and is almost a perfect shot, I'm sure you would have stepped in too had it been you."

She let out a burst of laughter and leaped off the bed. "I carry because I know it makes my dad feel better when I'm going certain places, not because I think I could actually pull it out and shoot someone with it." She pressed her lips together, furiously shaking her head. "Uh-uh. No. The thought of being responsible for taking a person's life? I couldn't. I'd never be able to live with myself."

The woman pressed her hand to her chest and gripped her shirt. She was struggling to breathe, her chest still rising and falling but too quickly for her to be actually catching a breath.

"Ali, I think she's having a heart attack!"

I gripped the plastic sheets as a wave of nausea surged, the stomach acid burning at the back of my throat for a second before I managed to force it back down.

"Shay?" Calli questioned with a raised brow. "Are you okay?"

"All right," Matt announced, stepping back into the room while pushing a trolley of sterilized medical instruments. He picked up a large needle, and I instantly shook my head.

"You need to do them without the anesthetic," I said quickly, my heart kicking into gear.

He sighed. "Shay, I need to numb it to do them, or it's going to hurt like fucking hell." Matt knew about my aversion to pain relief.

If I could do without it, I did because present me refused to open any door that past me could possibly step through.

I reached out to my best friend. "Calli, throw me your handbag."

Her brow pulled together, but she let her bag slip from her shoulder and held it out to me. I took it, lifting the leather strap to my lips and taking a deep breath before I placed it between my teeth and bit down hard.

"Jesus Christ," Matt cursed under his breath, looking to Calli, who just leaned back against the wall of the small medical room and shrugged. Matt sighed but returned the needle to the tray before turning back to me and clapping his hands. "Okay, no painkillers. But here's your warning. I haven't sutured since medical school, so…"

Goddammit.