Prescribed to You

So I booked a gynecology appointment, and the doctor turned out to be the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

He was also my ex. He just wasn't acting like it.

Have you been sexually active recently? he asked, flat as a chart note, pen already moving.

You're my boyfriend. I stared him down. Wouldn't you know?

He didn't blink. He just looked at me over the top of his mask, cool and unbothered, and set me straight.

"Ms. Cole. I should probably remind you. We broke up three months ago."

Chapter 1

Breaking up was my idea. For the record, he earned it.

He had been on the surgical floor three days straight, long enough to sleep through my birthday. I waited up until midnight, ate most of the cake by myself, then drove myself to the ER and lay there with an IV in my arm until the sun came up.

I came home holding my cramping stomach. He had stocked my painkillers weeks ago, a whole row of them in the cabinet, right where he always left them. He could remember that. He just couldn't remember the date.

I had barely sat down when the door opened again.

Julian walked in gray-faced, the smell of blood still under the antiseptic. Six months together, and I still barely saw him. He was an OB-GYN. The seventh man my mother set me up with after I turned twenty-five, and the only one who took. Cold, brilliant, never on time. He'd cut our first date short to answer a page, and I'd moved in with him anyway, just to catch him between shifts. He sank into the armchair and shut his eyes, like the woman two feet away didn't exist.

"Julian. You're really going to look right through me?"

He opened his eyes slowly, unfocused. "Sorry, Hazel. I'm just so tired."

The rest of the birthday cake was still sitting on the coffee table. He couldn't even manage a happy birthday.

By the time he woke up, my things were packed. Two suitcases, side by side in the entryway.

I lifted my chin and made it official. "We're done."

He came back to himself, and the usual cool settled over him again. He heard me out, said nothing, and leaned against the wall. "You can't drive. Want me to take your things home?"

"No."

He wasn't even going to try to stop me. I waited half a second for him to. He didn't. "I ordered a car."

"Then send me the plate number." A muscle worked in his jaw. He looked at the two suitcases, then away. "Drive safe."

That was the last thing he said to me for three months.

Chapter 2

He gave me his bank card and told me to use whatever I wanted. His phone was mine to go through anytime. When my cramps hit, the painkillers were already waiting on the counter. Every holiday came with a gift that cost more than my rent.

None of it was the thing I actually needed.

"You're unbelievable," Vivian said. "The man hands you his entire net worth and you're still not satisfied. Need I remind you of the ex who called you a gold-digger because you wouldn't split a hotpot bill?"

After the breakup, my mother nearly lost it. She wanted to drag me back to him by the wrist.

I cried, right in front of her. "I'm not going. He gets busy and forgets my birthday. I send him ten texts and get back a single word. I can't keep feeling like an afterthought."

She sighed. She didn't push.

At home, I opened my phone. A text from Julian.

Him: [You get home okay?]

I typed back one flat word. The exact way he used to answer me.

Me: [Okay.]

Him: [Sorry. I saw the slice of cake you left for me. Happy birthday.]

I read it three times. My throat closed. I typed the safest word I had.

Me: [Thanks.]

Him: [Okay.]

And we were done talking.

I never blocked him. He never deleted me. We just lay there in each other's contacts, quietly, saying nothing about it.

Julian never posted anything, ever. I posted ten times a day, every little scrap of my life. I knew nothing about how he lived now. He probably knew what I had eaten for all three meals.

Once my mother accepted that Julian and I were done, she found someone new. Her college friend's son. Beckett.

"Beck's just a little younger than you," she promised. "Very mature, very steady."

She was lying through her teeth.

Beckett had just graduated. I met him at an arcade, where a cluster of girls cheered him on while he wrecked the dance machine.

Such a child.

I stood off to the side, unimpressed, and missed Julian.

Beckett won me a pile of stuffed animals, then drove me home after dinner. Bored, I lined the little guys up on my bed, took a photo, and posted it.

That night, toweling off my hair, I saw it. Julian had liked the post.

His first like since the breakup.

I sat straight up, opened the photo full-size, and studied it for a solid ten minutes. In the corner, I found it. A hand resting on the steering wheel. Long fingers, sharp knuckles. Definitely a man's.

I texted Vivian, buzzing.

Me: [He's not over me.]

She sent back a wall of question marks.

Vivian: [Hazel. You broke up three months ago. Get a grip.]

Me: [I'm perfectly gripped. He still has me in there somewhere.]

Here's the thing about me. Generously, I'm high-maintenance. Ungenerously, I'm a bit of a spoiled princess. In all my years, the only people who could put up with my temper were my mom, Vivian, and Julian.

I once insisted on eating a big messy bowl of noodles in his bed, off a little tray, and knocked the whole thing over. He didn't get angry. He just cleaned up my disaster without a word and made me a fresh bowl.

So I booked an appointment at his hospital, online, and showed up first thing the next morning for a face-to-face consult.

When I told him I wanted a birth-control implant, his brow twitched, just slightly, before the calm slid back over his face.

"Have you been sexually active recently?"

Chapter 3

I held his gaze over the top of the mask. "You're my boyfriend. Don't you know that?"

A beat of silence. Then, cool and even. "Ms. Cole. I feel obligated to remind you. We broke up three months ago."

He had never used that voice on me. Distant. Clinical. My nose stung and I almost lost it right there in the exam chair.

"Sexual activity... none right now. Maybe after the procedure."

I'd only come in because I heard the implant could help with my cramps. He'd clearly decided it meant something else.

He kept writing the order, face like frost. "For your health, I'd recommend protection after the procedure too."

I knew that tone. He was angry.

I took his slip and wandered out, then circled back. He had his back to me, head bent, talking to a young woman in a hospital gown.

"Your results are all normal. You can be discharged today." Warm. Patient. Nothing like the voice he'd just used on me.

The girl looked up at him, soft and sweet. "Then, Dr. Hale, after I'm discharged... can I still come find you?"

Her eyes were bright. She wasn't hiding a thing.

Something sour flooded my chest. I didn't catch a word of whatever he said back.

By the time the room came into focus again, she was gone.

Julian stood a few steps off, watching me, cool as ever. "Come here."

Inside the exam room, he glanced at my payment slip. "The blood draw won't hurt. Once it's run, I can write your procedure order."

I hate needles. He has always known that.

I grabbed his wrist. "I don't need it. I actually came here to see you."

He leaned against the desk, white coat, mask hiding most of that face, just those cold eyes on me. "See me for what?"

Not a flicker in his voice. Like he'd rather I wasn't there at all.

I sniffed and reached for the pettiest thing I had. "Oh. To hand you an invitation. To my wedding."

The air went still. Julian shut his eyes. Opened them. Pulled the mask down, and his voice dropped to something arctic. "Give it here."

There was, of course, no invitation.

I dug through my bag, patted it twice, and landed on the truth. "Forgot to bring it."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. He turned to go.

He'd known there was no wedding from the second I said it. And it had almost made him smile. A man who didn't care wouldn't have.

I caught his sleeve on instinct. "Who was that girl?"

"My patient." He stopped, looked back. "Ms. Cole. These are my working hours. If you're not here to see a doctor, please go."

His eyes were a still, cold pool. Nothing seemed to reach him.

The only time I ever saw that surface break was two months into us.

It was our first kiss. I started it.

When it ended he was still catching his breath, and the eyes looking back at me held something like shattered starlight. Under a warm streetlight he wrapped an arm around my waist, pressed his face to the side of my hair, and said my name, low.

"Hazel."

I'd never met anyone like him. Just my name in his mouth and my pulse went wild, my face burned, my knees stopped working.

Chapter 4

Now that we were done, would there come a day he did all of that for some other girl?

Just picturing it put me one breath from crying. My voice shook. "Are you going to be with her?"

"With who?"

"Your patient."

He didn't answer. My stomach dropped through the floor. I turned and made myself walk.

He caught up in two steps and closed a hand around my arm, and when he saw my eyes swimming, he exhaled. "No."

"Julian. Do you think I'm annoying?"

"No." He checked his watch. "It's my lunch break. I'll drive you home."

I said yes before he finished the sentence.

His car still smelled the way it always had. Clean, cool, no smoke. Like him.

I fished for something to say. "Have you been busy? These past few months?"

"About the same." He glanced over, unhurried. "You, though. You seem to be having a great time."

"As if." I scrambled to set the record straight. "My cramps have been worse than ever. I've been miserable."

He sighed, something almost tired in it. "I told you. No cold drinks the week before and after. And what did you do? Iced milk tea every couple of days. Of course you're hurting."

He knew I'd been drinking iced milk tea.

Which meant he'd zoomed in on every single thing I posted. Close enough to read the label on the cup.

Three months of not texting me back, and he'd read every last one.

I perked right up and went pitiful. "Well. There's no one next to me to keep me in line anymore."

The air in the car pulled tight.

I looked over at the hard line of his jaw and remembered, a beat too late, that we were broken up.

I just still wanted him.

He pulled up to my gate. "Out you get."

I pushed my luck. "You want to come up? My mom's out. My new sheets are really pretty."

One hand on the wheel, he turned and gave it to me one word at a time. "You're getting married. Why do you keep coming after me?"

"Hazel. I am not your toy."

My spiteful little lie, taken at face value. One look at how cold his eyes had gone, and it finally landed. I'd pushed it too far.

"...I'm not getting married. I made it up." I twisted his sleeve between my fingers, small. "I came to see you because I wanted to see you. That's all."

He pressed his lips together. "The other day. Who were you at the arcade with?"

"My cousin," I said, flat and certain.

His hand jerked against the wheel, just barely. Then he opened his door. "Come on."

I blinked. "Where?"

"I've got half an hour before my shift. You wanted a ride home, didn't you?"

My whole mood lit back up. I said yes, loud, and scrambled out after him.

I reached for his arm, testing. He didn't pull away. He caught my wrist instead, and the way he always used to, tipped just slightly toward me so I could hold on easier.

Chapter 5

Outside, he'd stripped off the white coat, down to a soft cotton shirt, and where my arm brushed his, the warmth went straight through me.

I was still floating, halfway to saying something, when a familiar voice cut in from up ahead. "Hey, sis."

I looked up. Beckett.

He jogged over with a bag of sodas, opening his mouth, and I cut him off at the knees. "Cousin. What are you doing here?"

Beckett looked at me.

I looked back, eyebrows working overtime, signaling like my life depended on it.

He caught on, raised a brow, and went smooth as anything. "Just here to see my favorite cousin, obviously."

Then he put his hand out to Julian himself. "Hi. I'm Hazel's cousin."

Julian shook it, lips a tight line, and let go fast. He turned to me, flat. "Since your cousin's here, I'll get back to work."

I waved after him, clinging with my eyes. "Okay. But you have to text me back."

Julian said "Sure," and walked off.

I watched him the whole way, until his back disappeared through the gate. Then Beckett's voice landed in my ear. "Aw. Sad to see him go, cuz?"

I turned. He was grinning down at me, that baby face close enough to pinch.

Cute. Not my type.

"Thanks for that," I said. "But I'm telling my mom straight. I'm not interested in guys like you."

Beckett blinked. He clearly hadn't expected me to just say it.

He dropped his eyes and smiled. "See, that's my problem. I think I'm very interested in girls like you."

I patted him on the head. "Good boy."

Beckett: "...?"

"And quit collecting big sisters all over town. You're way too young to be this greasy."

Then I picked up my bag and left him standing there.

I took Vivian to dinner and announced it the second we sat down. "I'm getting Julian back."

"Why?"

"Because I like him."

She gave me the look you give a slow child. "If you like him so much, why'd you dump him in the first place?"

"Because he got busy and forgot my birthday. Because he wouldn't text me back. Because he stood me up on dates we'd already planned, over and over." My voice slid lower the longer I talked. "But these three months without him, I missed him so much I couldn't breathe."

"Okay. So you get him back, and all of that just fixes itself? He makes your birthday. He shows up. He texts you back in under a year?"

I had nothing.

Vivian and I are friends, but we're opposite species. I'm a walking tantrum, spoiled and dramatic, all impulse. She's cool to the bone and sees straight through everything.

"Julian's a doctor. He's slammed, and he'll probably be slammed for the rest of his life." She didn't blink. "You don't even keep a schedule. A few illustration deadlines a month and the rest is empty time. Hazel, you need a man who can actually be there. He is never going to be that man."

I knew all of it. Every word.

I didn't want it to be true. But it was Julian.

Every word of it was true, and I couldn't argue with a single one. The second she got up for the restroom, I had my phone out anyway.

Me: [Are you on night shift tonight?]

My thumb was shaking when I hit send.

A few minutes later.

Him: [No.]

Chapter 6

I racked my brain for an excuse.

Me: [I just realized I left something at your place. Can I swing by tonight to grab it?]

Him: [Sure.]

I told myself it counted as progress. He used to give me one word. That was a whole two.

After dinner I said goodbye to Vivian, went home, changed, did my makeup. Dabbed on perfume, dressed myself up like the kind of woman he'd look at twice, and took a car to his place in heels.

Then I got to his door and realized he wasn't even home.

Texts, unanswered. Calls, straight to busy. I stood in that hallway like an idiot for half an hour, and the longer I waited the smaller I felt, until my nose started to burn and I gave up and went back down.

By the flower beds, I spotted a car I knew parked up ahead.

Before it registered, two people got out.

Julian stood the way he always did, spine straight. The dark blurred those cold, keep-away edges of him into something almost unfairly good to look at.

And the girl in front of him, chin tipped up, talking.

His patient.

So that was why my calls went to busy. He'd told me he wouldn't be with her. Had that been a lie too?

I stood frozen, my mind wiped clean, teeth in my lip until it hurt, and by the time I surfaced they'd already gone up the little path along the far side of the beds.

Too dark, probably. He never saw me.

I wanted to chase them down and demand answers. Then I remembered I'd thrown away the right to demand anything, and that made it worse, so I pulled out my phone, pinned the nearest bar on the map, and took a car there.

Outside, I took a selfie, filtered it within an inch of its life, and posted it with the location tagged.

Truth is, I'd never set foot in a bar in my life. My stomach was jumping.

But Julian had lied to me. So.

I ordered a craft beer, didn't dare drink it, and carried the glass to the counter to listen to the band.

A while later, a familiar voice landed behind me. "Small world, Hazel. We keep doing this."

Beckett again.

He carried a drink over, dropped into the seat across from me, grinning.

I said, slowly, "You know..."

"Hm?"

"When my mom set us up, she swore you were a sweet, well-behaved kid." I looked at his already-empty glass. "You're a very good actor."

He clutched his chest, wounded. "Hand to God, Hazel, this is my first time somewhere like this."

I scoffed. Then, a beat later, it clicked. "When did you start using my name?"

"You told me to quit with the 'sis' thing." He looked genuinely aggrieved. "You're also the first person in my life to call me greasy."

It almost made me laugh. Then I thought of Julian and couldn't. I checked my phone. Dead silence. No text. No like on the post.

I looked at Beckett. "Since you're so obedient, do me one more favor?"

He leaned in like a big dog, eyes bright. "What favor?"

"Take a photo with me." I wanted to post another one.

Beckett and I leaned in shoulder to shoulder. I opened the camera, hunted for the angle, and just as my thumb came down on the shutter, someone stepped in front of me and blocked what little light there was.

Chapter 7

My eyes dropped first to a pair of pale, long-fingered hands.

Then up, inch by inch. A loose white tee. The small mole at his collarbone. The jut of his throat, the tight line of his jaw, and a face I knew better than my own. Cold as ice.

Julian looked at me and tugged one corner of his mouth. "Hazel. Ten seconds. Walk out of here with me."

I wanted to hold my ground, to throw out something like who are you to tell me what to do. But every instinct I had said the same thing. He was furious.

So I set down the beer I hadn't touched and followed him out like a lamb.

Beckett called after me. If you're going to commit to a role, commit. I turned back and gave it everything. "Cousin. You're a grown man now. I can't run your life. But show a little restraint, okay? Go home early."

He stared at me, stunned, and mouthed one word. Backstabber.

The second I got in his car, I did a careful sniff. No strange perfume.

I decided to strike first anyway. "Why did you lie to me?"

Cold and flat. "When have I ever lied to you?"

He was so sharp about it that my eyes went hot. "You did. You said she was your patient. You said you wouldn't be with her. And then you took her home!"

Julian went still. His brows drew together. "You were downstairs. At my place. Just now."

See. He answered too fast. Guilty conscience.

I glared at him, tears about to spill over. "Obviously. I called, I texted, you ignored all of it, so I waited downstairs, and I watched you walk someone inside. If you've moved on, why not just say it? You think I'd cling to you and make a scene?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"..."

I had nothing. Because when I actually thought about it, I was the one who ended things, and now I was the one who'd come running back. It did look a whole lot like clinging and scene-making.

So I shut my eyes and went all in on being unreasonable. "Fine. If you already know I'd cling, why go fall for someone else? Aren't you scared I'll crash your wedding?"

"I haven't fallen for anyone. And I didn't walk anyone inside." His fingers tapped once against the wheel. "Adeline flagged my car down at the gate. Her clothes were a mess and she was covered in cuts, so I had her wait downstairs, brought her a jacket and some ointment, and stayed with her until her parents came to take her home."

"As for my phone. I didn't have my charger."

A small pause. "I thought you'd be waiting at home."

The tears stopped, but I kept hiccuping through the sulk. "You weren't home. How was I supposed to wait?"

Julian rubbed his temple, exhaustion flickering through his eyes and gone. "I never deleted your fingerprint. You can still let yourself in."

I froze.

Something went sore and swollen behind my ribs, and when it finally spilled over, it landed as a flutter that heated the tips of my ears.

I looked away, flustered, and scanned the car. My eyes snagged on a half-empty pack of cigarettes by the console. A lighter beside it.

Julian didn't smoke. Not in all the time I'd known him.

My fingertips hovered over the pack a second, then curled back. He'd been carrying all of this alone, and it had cost him something after all.

I was still staring when his voice came again.

"You saw all of it. So why not come ask me? You decided I'd lied, and you dressed up and went to a bar with another man to even the score. Is that it?"

"He's my cousin"

Chapter 8

The rest of the sentence died under his cold, sharp stare.

Julian leaned in, closing the space between us inch by inch, eyes locked on mine, a thread of mockery at his mouth. "Is he. Hazel, is that really your cousin?"

My throat closed. Nothing came out.

"The matchmaker gave me your file. She made a point of one thing. Simple family, no complications. I was with you six months. I've met your mother more than once. Whether or not you have a cousin, you think I wouldn't know?"

His eyes were hurt, and the sight of them drove something sharp clean through me. My fingertips trembled. "Then why. Why did you..."

"Why didn't I call you on it." He laughed at himself, quiet. "Because I was hiding. Because some part of me still hoped that if I played along with your lie, you'd cling to me the way you used to. Maybe even..."

He didn't finish. He shut his eyes and turned his face away, lashes lowering, throwing a small shadow beneath them, throat and jaw pulled into one tight line.

I had never seen Julian like this. Fragile. Unbearably lovely with it.

Guilt and ache and something helpless rose in me all at once, and for a second I just lost myself looking at him.

Then I surfaced and said it small. "You're right. Beckett isn't my cousin. That day I only said it because I was scared you'd be angry. While we were apart my mom introduced us. But I don't like him, and I told him so. I told him I wasn't interested."

I started digging for my phone. "If you don't believe me, I'll have him tell you himself."

"Don't." Julian pressed his lips together. His gaze moved over my slip dress, over the careful doe-eyed makeup, and his voice went rough. "Then why dress like this and go to a bar with him?"

"I went alone. Running into him was an accident." I said it wounded. "And I didn't dress like this for him. I did it to seduce you."

The air stalled.

The next second his hand was at the back of my head and he kissed me like he couldn't hold it in for one more breath.

It was a ruthless kiss. His breath scalding, his lashes brushing my eyelids, his fingers threading into my hair, the heat of them climbing degree by degree.

God help me.

"Hazel."

He pulled back a fraction, unwilling to go far, and tipped my chin up with his other hand, reading my face like there was something written on it.

A moment later he came back for more.

Every cold, distant layer he'd ever worn cracked open in that instant, and he was like a god fallen to earth, finally undone by wanting.

By the end my legs had gone weak. I looked at him through a blur and heard the question.

"Hazel. Do you want to get back together?"

I clutched a weak fistful of his shirt and, without a breath of hesitation, nodded.

"I do."

I hadn't set foot in Julian's place for three months, and it had stayed exactly the way I'd left it