Slowly, he retracts his hand, his brows lifted in a silent reminder before stepping to the door.
“Fuck me.”My sister’s ghost exhales from her spot across the living room.“We’re both thinking the same thing right? That was hot.”
Air enters my lungs at the same time, butterflies erupting in my belly.
It’s one thing to be haunted by your dead sister. But I really don’t need her ghost to become preoccupied with my love life. Or a distinct lack of one.
CHAPTER 2
Isolde
“This the patient?” Tyler Mulligan enters my flat and takes in the wall of windows. He’s good-looking, but not assuming. The word ‘nice’ describes Tyler to a T. He’s friendly and easy to joke with.
My ribs twinge as I turn back to the TV, sinking further into the velvet green cushions. “I’m fine.”
Tristan’s hulking figure looms in my periphery. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s scowling. “She’s lied about being in pain all night.”
I wish I could become one with the sofa. I thought I’d done a good job, hiding how much my body ached.
Tyler looks between the two of us. “Right.”
He walks in front of the sofa and plops down on the edge of the coffee table, blocking my view ofLove Island.
Tyler’s eyes narrow on my ribcage. “I take it you’re not holding yourself like that because you’re cold.”
“I am cold.”
“You really going to be one of those patients?”
My face scrunches. “Don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Tris told me you’d been shot.”
“Grazed,” I correct. My favorite hoodie is a goner, which is a real shame. “It’s fine.”
“Let me take a look and I’ll confirm that,” Tyler replies in a tone I’m guessing could be referred to as his doctor’s voice. Calm but firm.
Fuck my life.
My body refuses to comply at first; I’ve kept my arms tucked tight for so long. My muscles groan as I force my shoulders to relax so I can move slightly.
“Honestly, it’s all right,” I try to tell him.
I’m not even sure when he became a doctor. When I first met him, he’d been working as a bartender in one of the city’s discreet sex clubs. Then, a few weeks ago, he treated Ren when she hurt her arm. Turns out all the contracts he used to take as a hitman didn’t just pad his savings account—he’d been paying for medical school.
Tyler delicately takes my arm, moving it to the side, making me hold my breath at the touch.
“You need help out of your shirt?” he asks.
He wants me to get undressed?
I’d thought about changing into comfier clothes when I first got home. Some that weren’t ruined with sweat and dried blood, but it’d been awkward with Tristan here. Obviously, I’d have shut the door when I changed, but it still felt weird. I hadn’t planned on coming home tonight with a new roommate in tow.
Tyler rifles through a crossbody leather bag. He’s super professional, coming prepared with supplies.
“It skimmed you good,” he says, lifting my hoodie higher. He doesn’t mention taking my shirt off again, as if he saw how startled the idea made me. “I’m going to give you a tetanus shot.”
“No, it’s f?—”
