Page 6 of That Last Secret

“That’s an understatement. I could have stayed in bed for three days after that shift, but it still wouldn’t be enough,” Brooke emphasizes.

“Oof, it was really that bad?”

She shoots me a pointed glare out of the corner of her eye. “We had patients in the waiting room for almost four hours. Maybe more. I don’t even know. When one person left, another came in. To top it off, they brought in some bar fight last night around midnight. Six grown men. I swear I thought they’d continue the brawl in front of the nurse’s desk. And one was somessed up that his eye was so swollen shut that we couldn’t even see if there was actual damage to his eyeball.”

“Jeez,” I sigh.

“Yeah, you’re lucky you weren’t there. I wish I was sleeping soundly like you were last night,” she jokes, bumping my shoulder as we walk.

I force a smile because I don’t want to tell her what I was really doing.

I was having a panic attack over the content we haven’t even touched in class today.

No one knows the struggles I deal with and I’d like to keep it that way.

I’ve always been afraid of someone looking at me like I’m weak because I freak out before a class or a significant test or if I’m overwhelmed. Being the only daughter in the family, not to mention the youngest sibling, there’s a lot of pressure on me to live up to the standards my older brothers have set.

All three of them are insanely successful and wealthy. Granted, we all have a decent amount of money from the inheritance my father left us when he passed. I didn’t get mine until I was eighteen. After discussing what to do with the money with my older brother Thomas, we invested it for a few years until I was ready.

This worked out well because once I turned twenty-one, I moved out of my apartment and into a new one. The money was enough to cover two years of rent and furnish this place I call home. It’s nothing crazy, but it works for me.

I love it because it’s quiet and all mine.

After that, I applied for the accelerated nursing program and got in almost instantly. I was set on making something happen for myself, even if it wouldn’t make me a billionaire like my brothers.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I saw your hottie officer.” Brooke wiggles her eyebrows.

The thought ofthatparticular person sends chills through my body.

Logan Bennett.

My brothers’ best friend.

A man older than me by a few years and insanely hot.

“Please stop calling him that.”

“What?” a smirk plays on her lips. “I just call it like it is.”

I roll my eyes.

I hate that she’s not wrong.

Prior to getting my job at the hospital, I only ever saw him in passing with my brothers. Now I get the pleasure of seeing him more and more because he’s one of the many officers that brings people into our emergency room here and there. I say pleasure with as much sarcasm as possible because ever since that one weekend we took a trip to Thomas’ beach house for his birthday, Logan’s been so different. He went from looking at me like his best friend’s younger sister to looking at me like he hates my guts.

Brooke picked up on the way he was looking at me one night. All I saw was a scowl, but she was so delusional that she saw something more. Hence her calling him ‘my hottie officer.’ This is precisely the reason why I dread when he has to bring someone in.

I’ve been thankful that our paths haven’t crossed again since he brought in our regular, Jerry, last month. But that’s not surprising since I only work a part-time schedule while in school—two twelve-hour shifts a week—and it’s really hit or miss when they show up with someone.

In January, when my brothers, Peyton, and Kali took me out to dinner for my birthday, I half expected him to be therebecause we always do everything as a group. Marc said he invited him to join us but that he picked up a shift.

I was relieved but also partially irritated.

Not that I had any right to be. However, itwasmy birthday, and Logan suddenly hated me so much that he had to ‘pick up an extra shift’ just to stay away from me?

I might be completely wrong and assuming the worst, but he didn’t even text me to wish me a happy birthday. And I know he has my number because we’re in a group chat with everyone, and because he’s always wished me a happy birthday in all the years he’s been friends with Thomas.

At first, I thought I was overreacting to the entire thing, as I do in many situations. Admittedly, I’m constantly worrying if someone is mad at me. It’s one thing I hate about myself because nine times out of ten, it’s just me reading a situation all wrong.