The Darkest Sunrise (The Darkest Sunrise #1)

I stopped and slowly turned to face him. “Uh…you cheated on my best friend. With my nurse. I’m pretty sure there is no statute of limitations on how long I’m allowed to be angry about that.” I stabbed a finger in his direction. “Especially considering it’s only been a week.”

His head snapped back. “Jeez, you’re cranky today.”

I turned away and yelled, “Get used to it!” over my shoulder, my voice echoing off the concrete pillars.

“I wanted to make sure you’d be at the Fling this weekend.”

I came to a screeching halt and whirled back around. “What?”

“The Fling,” he clarified without actually clarifying anything.

“Yeah. I know what you said. But what do you mean this weekend?”

Every fucking year, Rita and Greg insisted on hosting this big Spring Fling for all of our patients and their families. It was a nice gesture, but Rita took it over the top. Face painting, bounce houses, carnival games.

Which meant: Kids. Kids. Kids.

Which meant: I avoided it at all costs.

“I…I thought that was at the end of the month?” I remembered because I’d specifically put in for a four-day vacation to ensure I wouldn’t have to attend.

“No. We had to bump it up after the venue decided to schedule construction for that weekend. Last I heard, Rita was still scrambling to find a new caterer, but we at least have a new location.”

I blinked, doing my best to keep my expression passive so as not to reveal the anxiety spiraling within me. “I can’t make it.”

“Oh, come on, Char. We’ve required the entire staff to be there. You can’t skip out. They already call you the ice queen.”

My back shot ramrod straight, and my mouth gaped. “They call me the ice queen?”

He rocked onto his toes then back onto his heels while ruefully scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, they call you worse, but ice queen is the only one of those nicknames I didn’t start.”

“What the hell, Greg!”

“Relax. It’s just a little office humor.”

I glared. “I’m their boss.”

“Exactly. Which is why you need to be at the Fling.” An arrogant smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “Listen, just come for a little while. Make an appearance. Play nice with the patients and staff. And, if you so happen to find it in your new warm and loving, not at all icy, heart while you are there, I’d appreciate it if you could talk Rita into letting me come home.”

My glare intensified. “Are you kidding me? I emailed her step-by-step instructions on how to castrate you last night.”

He grinned. “You forget I was there to witness your surgical rotation. With your instruction, the worst she could do is give me a clean shave.” He pointedly glanced at his zipper.

I lifted my hand to halt the conversation. “You know what? I’m done discussing your testicles. I have somewhere to be.”

He arched an incredulous eyebrow. “Where the hell are you going? I didn’t think you had patients on Wednesdays.”

“I do have a life outside of work, you know.”

“Psssh…sure.” His mouth split into a wide, toothy grin, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Seriously though. Where ya headed?”

As mad as I was with Greg for being a philandering piece of shit who had hurt my girl and cost me a damn good nurse with slightly questionable morals, he was still my friend. And being the ice queen of North Point Pulmonology meant I didn’t have many of those.

So I went with honesty.

“It’s March seventh,” I whispered.

“March sev—” He didn’t finish before the light of understanding hit his eyes. “Oh God, Charlotte. I’m so sorry.” His whole face softened, and he took a step toward me, the apology carved into his every feature. “I’m so sor—”

“It’s okay,” I said to let him off the hook. But it was yet another lie. Nothing was okay on March seventh. “I need to go before I’m late.”

He nodded sheepishly. “Okay. Yeah. Go. Get out of here.”

I stood for a few beats longer, waiting for an earthquake to hit. Or maybe a sinkhole to swallow the garage. But, when it never happened, I forced myself to my car.

And then, with an unwavering ache in my chest, I drove to my personal version of hell.





* * *





“No. Wait…I just…” With the phone still pressed to my ear, I hung my head. “Yes, I’ll hold.”

God…would this day ever end?

After I’d spent a sleepless night with Travis at the hospital, I’d walked outside to discover a flat tire, which made me late to the walkthrough with the city inspector. And then he found four violations that my contractor swore weren’t his fault. It was going to take at least a week to get everything up to code, including changes that would require removing one, if not both, of the freezers.

More time. More money. At that rate, it’d be a goddamn miracle if we opened on time.

It had been three years since my brother and I had gone into business together, but in that time, I’d completely forgotten what a nightmare it was to open a new restaurant. Though, that might be because, back then, I had been desperate for the distraction. Back then, I’d been floundering in virtually every aspect of life. I’d gone from being a workaholic investment banker to a single father of two literally overnight. Hannah was only six months old at the time, but Travis was eight. Watching my son nearly collapse from grief was more than I could bear. In the weeks that followed, he became angry and began lashing out at anyone and everyone he could reach. First and foremost: me. I couldn’t blame him; I was pretty damn pissed at the universe too.

But he made me recognize that something had to change. I couldn’t keep going to work, pulling sixty-hour weeks, and using nannies and babysitters to deal with the fallout Catherine had left behind.

In order for us to heal, we had to do it together.

I was all they had left.

They were all I had left.

Well, them and the acidic anger eating me away from the inside out.

I’d become a shell of the man who’d once smiled because it felt natural and laughed because everything held humor if you looked close enough.

That had all died with Catherine.

She’d ruined me.

And, worse, she’d ruined our children too.

The pain I’d felt when my son had looked up at me the day of his mother’s funeral and asked, “Who’s going to take care of me now?” had shattered me.

Hate and despair fused within me, plunging me into the darkness. I lost my job after I’d punched my boss when he’d dared to insinuate that I needed to take a few days off. And then it was just me and the kids functioning without feeling.

After Catherine, the world wasn’t such a beautiful place anymore. It was sick and tainted, sucking the life out of me with every passing day.

Despite how isolating those first few months felt, I wasn’t struggling alone. I had an amazing family who rallied around me and the kids.

Tanner was a lot of things: arrogant, obnoxious, irresponsible.

But he was also my little brother.