𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒

"i'm  not  sure  how  much  more  of  this  i  can  take."  most  of  the  time  max  talked  to  talk.  it  didn't  matter  to  whom  or  where  they  were  or  even  who  else  was  around.  the  nightmare  karen  of  a  customer  had  finally  just  left  with  her  people  and  he'd  nearly  kicked  the  door  shut  on  their  asses  on  their  way  out.  "there  needs  to  be  a  cost  for  people's  stupidity,"  he  vented  as  he  lit  up  a  cigarette  now  behind  the  bar,  "otherwise  i'm  gonna  start  physically  throwin'  people  out."  smoke  was  blown  out  with  force,  as  though  it  were  in  the  way  of  all  he  had  to  go  on  about.  "and  what  pisses  me  off  even  more  is  i  know  she's  out  there,"  max  gestured  to  the  door,  "goin'  on  about  how  she  told  us  and  how  the  customer  is  always  right."  there  was  a  near  snarl  on  his  lips  as  he  shook  his  head.  "nah.  no,  it  ain't.  not  in  this  fuckin'  house."

     One thing was for certain, and that was that people didn't really patron The Siren if looking for a quiet night out. The bar slash restaurant was an absolute Americana style pub and the owner at the helm ran it as such. Whether Max meant to or not. Camila let him vent and get the sharpness of his frustrations out. Not only had she heard the commotion the impossible to please woman had stirred up, she'd worked a service industry job back in the day and knew just how awful people could be.

"What's been your worst date? I'm only asking because I went on one two days ago and had stain on my hands from doing some DIY's at home and he was convinced that it was something else. He was appalled when I asked him to smell it if he didn't believe it. I should have known when his first picture on his profile was him with a fish."

open to: anyone

     For a long, almost too stretched out moment Rocco sat in consideration. It was quite a bit of information at once that invited too much curiosity and list of follow-up questions. His hand remained wrapped around his drink and he finally turned his head to give her a real look. ❝ ⸻ I've not had a bad date. ❞ A small smile edged his response as he'd managed to not say the yet part of that answer. ❝ I'm not a good person to ask that, to be real with you. I don't really date. ❞

closed starter: utp!! (@xmarlboronights) || location: wildflower ridge reserve!! — sunlight soft through the treetops, wildflowers in full riotous bloom along the ridge trail, air humming with bees and possibility

the hike wasn’t supposed to be this steep. or maybe it was, and iris had just lied to herself on purpose. she did that sometimes — believed in the softer version of a thing long enough to make it feel true. like the climb would be gentle. like the heat wouldn’t cling to her shoulders. like the wildflowers blooming at the ridge would be worth every uphill breath. spoiler: they were. she stood near the edge of the overlook now, one boot propped on a sun-warmed rock, chin tilted up to catch the breeze. her braid was starting to come loose at the nape of her neck, strands of copper hair clinging to the damp curve of her collarbone, freckles blooming darker under the sun. her tank top was smudged with dust from where she’d slipped trying to scramble up the last incline, but she looked more alive than she had in days — cheeks flushed, eyes bright, chest still rising with the rhythm of the climb. below them, the valley was on fire with color. wild poppies, lupine, golden yarrow, indian paintbrush — all tangled together in a kind of chaos that didn’t need arranging. it was beautiful because it didn’t try to be anything else. “you ever see something so damn alive it makes your chest ache?” iris asked, not turning, but knowing someone had caught up behind her — could feel the shift in the air, the way boots crunched dry twigs, the breath that didn’t belong to the breeze. “like it’s too much and not enough all at once?” she finally glanced over her shoulder then, squinting just slightly against the sun. her grin was lazy and real, tugging at one corner of her mouth. “bet you didn’t think i’d make it all the way up. go on — you can admit it. i wouldn’t blame you.” iris dropped into a crouch and plucked a sprig of purple bloom from the edge of the path, twirling it between her fingers like it held answers. then, without ceremony, she tucked it behind the ear of whoever stood close enough to let her — bold, familiar, unthinking. “there,” she said, voice low, teasing. “now you match the view.” and maybe she meant the wildflowers. or maybe she meant the way her heart kicked a little harder in her chest when she looked at them. either way — she stood, offered her canteen, and waited. not for permission. just for whatever came next.

     Before Rocco would be visualized with an entrance into the his dog would pad in ahead. Mouth open and tongue hanging out, not strained or stressed, Chelsea was conditioned for these miles they'd trekked daily. When the woman began without a turn to catch sight of him, it'd been assumed that the German Shepherd had made it into her periphery and Rocco was easily sussed out due to the dog's popularity and familiarity in any of these nature spaces. He wasn't quick to respond, never had been, though since he'd returned from service years ago he'd become an even quieter man. ❝ ⸻ That's why I come up here—why I seek out these views. ❞ Not to mention the solitude these places offered him. Rocco stepped a little closer and took in the colors of the sky, ruminated for a few on how earth's colors mingled, when she'd crouched down. ❝ I haven't seen a thing yet that can beat both the beauty and the ugliness of mother nature. ❞

she wanted to push, wanted to be everything that she knew bothered him and that was a cause of annoyance at herself. why did she care? why did she even bother with the effort when he'd left her like she meant nothing? "right. so you don't care that i'm seeing someone?" it was bullshit, but she watched the corners of his mouth anyway, as if trying to prove herself right.

his question triggered a roll of her eyes. she didn't even know her type, didn't trust herself to figure it out either. he'd been her type and look where that had gotten her in life. "i'm still figuring that out. the last time i thought i knew, i got it wrong." she didn't back down from his gaze, didn't blink as she spoke the brutal truth that she already knew wouldn't land the way she wanted. after all, why would it?

pru's tongue swiped at the corner of her mouth, the faint taste of wine still settled there from her earlier drinks. she hated how he used the word need rather than want, as if he knew how difficult this was for her. then again, it was probably arrogance that led the assumption rather than concern. "i could use a drink. are you offering or just trying to gauge where i am right now?"

     ❝ You're not, ❞ he replied steadily to her taunt. It was easy for Xavier to sniff out that Prudence was attempting to get a rise out of him. Perhaps some low level revenge, or maybe she was checking to see if he genuinely felt something. While it wasn't a smart game to play with him, this time she'd be rewarded and his ex-wife would see a slight flex in his jaw. Of course people were not property, yet—she was his. He dipped is head a little lower, to speak more intimately with her. ❝ You don't think I've kept tabs on you? ❞ A smirk because hadn't she learned that from his visit to her shabby apartment?

The problem with most people was the conscience. It made people doubt and secondguess, compelled them to fret over their insecurities and seek approval from others. It was a misstep in human evolution and would without a doubt be a downfall of society. So, Xavier, always cognizant of the fact that he had to blend in, offered a bit of an audible sigh. ❝ You didn't have it wrong, Prudence. Stop doing that. ❞ At that moment he was still invading her space and had just given it back as he turned to lead the way toward a drink.

inconvenient things happen all the time: a shoelace coming undone, a phone gasping on 2% with the charger three rooms away, a coffee lid that looks secure until it baptizes your shirt in public. annoying, sure. manageable.

but this—this is a new layer of hell.

edwin shuffles in the narrow strip of space between his car and the other's, pops open the driver's door, then slams it shut without so much as leaning in. his top teeth briefly snag his bottom lip, grim, like bracing for impact that hasn't come yet.he pivots slowly, turning to the stranger who's just about to slide into their own car. there's no ceremony to it, no softening.

"there's a rat in my car," edwin announces. matter-of-fact. mostly to himself, but also as an explanation for why he's standing here instead of driving away like a normal person.

     Just wrapped up with some needless shopping and money wasted—thereapy, hello—Camila approached her car with an internal war going on inside her head. The brunette had been telling herself she could just turn around, go back in, and return everything. It might be embarrassing, she'd been through worse, though. She'd just hit the unlock button on her key fob and looked up, and that was when she saw him and her pace slowed to a stop.

Frown, partial confusion, and a general wondering of what was going on was a moving expression across her face. It took a moment before she scolded herself for staring and judging. Cami went to the trunk and dropped her shopping items into it and she still found her gaze fixing on him.

Then he said it. ❝ ⸻ Oh, ❞ was all that came out as she stood there stunned. A prickling, skin crawling sensation lightly began to tease her. On her tongue sat ❛ well, good luck with that ❜ yet they stayed stuck, lodged in her throat as she just continued to blink.

actions spoke louder than words, but words started every story. apologies would dance on his tongue until the end of all time, but he'd show her rather than rattle off words that anyone could say. he'd been thankful that she didn't shut him down after their first conversation. thankful that she hadn't told him to kick rocks or to go back to new york where he belonged. truth was, he wasn't certain where he belonged, but he knew that being near her was the most at home he'd felt in his entire life.

her honesty struck a chord of sadness, one that he choked down and buried deep. it wasn't fair to feel when he'd been the one to walk to away. "i would," he assured softly as he fumbled with his trembling hands atop his lap. he knew it was easier said than done, but he was there and if she called, he'd be wherever she asked him to be in an instant. "and if you ever do decide to test that theory," he trailed off, taking a moment to swallow down the lump of emotion that had built in his throat, "i won't let you down."

the businessman nipped at his bottom lip as he took in the view of the woman and how the dress seemed to fit her perfectly. then again, he found it difficult to imagine a piece of clothing that didn't. "i was hoping i'd see you." it was a gentle confession, one rooted in truth. he'd stood in front of the mirror as he worked on the buttons of his shirt with her in mind. "i know you always liked this color," he added, this time a soft smile spreading on his mouth. it seemed silly saying such a thing aloud, that he'd picked a shirt based off something she liked, but it was true and there was no shame in admitting it.

he caught the way she looked at him, because he'd done the same the moment she came into view. "would that be a bad thing?" he nipped at the inside of his cheek, nervous that the question had been too much. he was still making amends and proving himself — he knew that things weren't magically fixed and he didn't want to make the impression that he did. "you tell me. you know this place and all the booths better than me. what's something you like?"

zay fell into step at her side and clung to every word like there would be exam after the fact. "if i asked you pick a book for me, would you?" he rarely for the sake of entertainment if it wasn't news or random articles, but that was something she enjoyed and he wanted to enjoy it too. "so, where's this glass maker and how can we make our own candles?" he wanted to do it all, to experience the festival the camila conti way. he caught her gaze, an eager excitement showing in his own dark orbs.

     Given that her ex-husband's term of residing in her hometown was an unknown Camila was uncertain in how to take his statement. To acknowledge it, the brunette nodded, while resisting the urge to comment on what his assurance was up against. The wrongdoings, the hurts—the didn't need to be repeated and rubbed on like a raw nerve over and over again. Zayden was well aware that trust would take time to build, and more than that, aside from an apology, Cami wasn't sure of his intentions. What she supposed was that if anyone was going to let her down from this point on it would be herself, if she ends up needing to learn the lesson a second time. Hope that she was very wrong bloomed in her chest. 

❝ ⸻ So, you did dress for me, then? ❞ The feeling of his eyes taking her in, especially the fit of her dress, after all this time filled Cami with a nervous energy. Not the bad kind, just the type that made her want to fidget and check on her hair. She wanted him to be impressed by her, and his confession let her know that he'd actually felt the same way. They were each seeking approval, to know that they hit the mark. ❝ I do, ❞ the brunette admitted, ❝ it looks really good on you. ❞ There was more that settled in her throat begging for release, she held on tight to the words out of fear instead.

For some reason Cami had anticipated that his response to the date question would be an immediate denial. That Zayden would want to keep things one level right then, or even that he'd fear being too out there too soon. In her assumption she'd felt bold in speaking it, and now—well now she was blushing. ❝ Well, ❞ her lips twisted as though she were considering it, ❝ I had liked it before. Enough that I married you. ❞ Hopefully Zay still knew her enough to understand that was a no said in the safest way possible. ❝ There's too many, ❞ the brunette replied, refocused back on their reason for being there, ❝ I think the fun is experiencing as much as you can. Maybe we should get a drink first? ❞ Brow lifted in suggestion, Cami gently bit the inside corner of her bottom lip.

⎯⎯𝓛ucia cracked one eye open at the sound of his voice, blinking as though she weren't sure if she was still hallucinating from pure exhaustion. But then she saw the familiar face, and something softened instantly. Her lips curved, slow and lopsided. Rocco Wade, looking unfairly good for this hour and holding out a bag of pastries like an angel sent from heaven. ❝ You always had a knack for showing up at the right time. ❞ She looked down at the scone and muffin like it was the most important decision she'd made all day, then up at him in appreciation. ❝ I'll take the scone. But only because you look like a muffin kind of guy. ❞

     The kind of tired Rocco saw on Lucia's face was an exhaustion, bone deep, that he'd known well. Luckily, these days, his life was more relaxed and without much complication, he'll just never forget those military days and his experience in the Marine Corps. How it'd become a learned skill to find a state of a alertness despite not having slept in 48-hours. The brunette's comment crafted a slow, warming smile onto his lips—something that he felt deep. Perhaps that had to do with whom delivered the line. ❝ ⸻ Ain't nothin' wrong with lovin' a muffin down, especially a perfectly timed on, ❞ Rocco winked. With ease he let her take up her choice, scooped up the other, and then led the wait to his waiting girl under the table.

Always well-behaved thanks to her extensive training Chelsea didn't pop up and immediately beg for food when they settled. The German Shepherd Dog simply wagged her tail sweetly and sat up a little more when Lucia offered her some loving. ❝ Good girl, ❞ he praised, soft and quiet, mostly audible enough for the intended audience to hear. ❝ Yeah, you're welcome, ❞ Rocco tipped his head then sipped his own coffee, ❝ sounds like you've been runnin' ragged then. Too many doubles, or what's goin' on there? ❞ Genuine interest cast her direction from across the table, and then he laughed gently.

"don't get smart," he pointed a finger at the blonde, "you know what i meant." the reason he surrounded himself with women? they were just better, and clearly more intelligent. "yes and no, there is a fine line there, britt. not everyone appreciates being told they look like shit. there are some things you've gotta deliver with a little softness." but since she'd been talking to a male patron that seemed to like the abuse, not that it actually was that, he shrugged and moved on.

"are you kidding? you know my side hustle." she also knew that he had a benefactor that paid all of his bills and a little extra anyway. so he wasn't just talking. "maybe ⸺ with the right drugs there are," max winked at britt. "which you'll have access to, right? just need to get my hookup in place." he stepped out of her way, folded his arms and leaned back against the bar back. "i wouldn't say all are creative. some are just opportunists."

"I wish I had the habit of writing things down like that as soon as I wake up, you know? What I can remember, the details, the feelings..." Sammie's fingers pushed the empty glass toward Britt, not asking for another but aware she was far from done drinking for the night. Seeing the blonde already preparing one of her usuals put a smile on her face. That was the best thing about a small town, you weren't just another face in the crowd. "I know it's not necessarily uncommon but... do you ever have dreams like that? Ones you can't shake even a day or two later?"

In her state of exhaustion it'd taken Sammie a moment to catch on, but when it dawned on her the brunette chuckled while shaking her head. "I can't believe I actually forgot about that this weekend. Yeah... I'm preparing for the fact that I'll be very busy this weekend and then even more drained. So, what about next weekend? I was thinking we could drive out to Sac or Tahoe?"

❝ What's been going on in your life lately? ❞ The question was casual enough without coming off too prying, they were friends after all and she meant it on that level. Britt hardly ever used her degree in non-professional settings. ❝ Anything particularly stressing, worrying, giving you a bit of anxiety? Could be the smallest thing too. ❞ When Sammie mentioned a dream journal of sorts, keeping notes on when it was all fresh in mind, the blonde was wiping down the bar. ❝ I tried that once, ❞ a little smile popped up, ❝ back when I gave therapy a try. ❞ Then she nodded at the brunette's question. Happily moving on from the fact that she was working towards being a therapist yet didn't personally believe it worked. ❝ I don't have nightmares too much anymore. I take the right sleep medication. ❞

location ⎯⎯ the ugly mug.

time ⎯⎯ early morning.

Lucia had been on her feet for sixteen hours, and it showed. She had entered the cafe with a glazed expression and the kind of limp that only nurses and bartenders earned honestly. Her ponytail was half way out of its tie, the sleeves of her scrubs pushed up haphazardly, and there was a smudge of something—coffee or pen ink—on her jaw. She hardly remembered giving her name at the counter. The barista handed over a to-go cup marked Lucy. She stared at it blankly for a moment, then gave a tired huff of amusement. ❝ Close enough, ❞ she muttered lowly to herself, sinking into the nearest seat just moments later like the chair had personally invited her. Cradling the cup in both hands, she let her head fall back against the wall. ❝ If anyone asks me for anything else today, I swear I'll cry, ❞ she said aloud, not looking around to see if anyone nearby was listening. ❝ Unless it's a donut. Then maybe I'll reconsider. ❞

he'd understood his father's point of view, at least from a business perspective. all the grey areas aside, it was a move that an unmarried man with no care for emotional ties should've made. what he hadn't understood was why his father had blatantly chose to ignore that fact that zayden was neither of those things. he had been a married man with emotional needs, something he knew the elder hassani would never be able to wrap his head around. after all, his own mother had lived a lifetime in a loveless union for the sake of what? keeping a good image? staying tied to the hassani wealth? at the end of the day, he knew it wasn't hate for camila or a question of her worth. it was a business deal and she didn't have the best hand at the table.

her follow up was met with a few steady nods. longterm, he would have settled into a loveless marriage too. that was the plan, to pull two kingdoms together for the sake of growth and financial gain, but he hadn't made it that far. "ultimately, we would have played the part," he admitted, nothing but shame in his voice. his thumb brushed over his ring finger where the metal band had sat long after the ink had dried on their divorce papers. "i couldn't do it. i couldn't imagine being married to someone i could never love." that he said with confidence, his eyes glued to her from across the table. he was a lot of things, but he wasn't the kind of man his father had wanted him to be.

the sound of his name off her lips caused him to pause, the strong exterior he'd held daring to shatter. he knew what was asking, what she wasn't saying. he shook his head slowly and his heartbeat rattled against his ribs. "i didn't sleep with her. i took her out for dinner a few times, but i couldn't do it." he'd even gone as far as using that golden liquid courage, but he drank too much and ended up on a hotel bathroom floor alone. "we put on a good show, but that was it."

this was the very thing he'd came there to do — to give her all the answers that she could possibly want from him. it was never supposed to be easy, but he would've been a liar had he said he expected this line of questioning to land between them. at least, during their first shared moment since he'd fucked it all up. "i haven't been with anyone else seriously." he sucked in a deep breath, his lungs aching from the way he held it until he was ready to speak again. "i can't." in another world, one where there wasn't such a heaviness between them, maybe he could've laughed at the idea of marrying another or having a child. he could try his hardest at midnight moving on, but it was no good. not when his heart was still in the hands of another.

for the first time she'd stood across from him, anger flashed in his dark gaze. he'd been meticulous about his terms — adamant too. she was to get everything she'd worked so hard for and then some. it was just like his father to take the reigns and make the decisions for him though. "i had no idea," he finally exhaled, tone uneven and forced. he'd written it up perfectly, hadn't cared that it meant getting screwed out of thousands of dollars. all he'd wanted was to know that she was taken care of, that she would be okay without him in some way or another. "cami," he breathed, waiting until she'd caught his eyes to speak again, "i promise you that i had no idea. i'm so sorry. i," he trailed off, falling short of what to say next. nothing would change the past. nothing would change how that made her feel, or that he couldn't even yell at his father for it all.

then again, this was all his fault. he'd rolled over, he'd chose the path of least resistance for a shot at the family fortune. he knew his father and yet, he'd trusted that for once, something would happen on his own terms. when she spoke again, he choked down the anger and nodded. "it should have, but... i just thought she wanted it that. that... if she was unhappy, she'd leave him." it wasn't as if his father had ever been openly cruel to her. as far as zay knew, what they had worked. it was the picture perfect image for picture perfect people. "my whole life has been about looking perfect. the illusion of perfect." it was spoken bitterly, as if it were the first time he'd ever confessed such a thing out loud and truth be told, it probably was.

"she'd be happy to hear it." his mother had loved camila, something that she hadn't been shy about after it all fell apart. he still recalled the way she looked at him after he'd broke the news, all the disappointment and sadness in her eyes, as if she knew what happened next. "she knows i'm here. she encouraged it." she'd always supported him, but something about the eagerness in her tone had told him this was different, like it was the most important thing he'd ever done. "she loved you, cami. still does."

❝ ⸻ Okay, ❞ was all Cami could say. It'd been five years and she hadn't expected him to have been celibate. In fact, she'd thought he'd have been married or a name that frequented Page Six with each new hot, prominent woman he'd dated. Men were men. Plus, there time had been over. Why wouldn't he move on? She'd tried to. Though, for the brunette it was just a collection of bad dates and being way too fearfulof getting hurt again. Never in her life did she want to experience that level of pain again. What she supposed was behind the question was knowing if the woman he'd left her for, if they had—

When it'd come to the divorce settlement Zayden's reaction had surprised her. It was raw and emotional, what he displayed was genuine shock at what had actually happened to her. That fact that he wasn't actually behind it softened things for Camila a little. It was cold, even for his father, what could either of them do about it now, though? Her former father in law might have been in the grave now but she'd gotten a flash of her father spitting on the man's grave, maybe even wrapping his hands around her ex-husband's throat. When it all had fallen apart he'd come to collect her and help her get home to a safe and loving place. It was going to take time to move past that devastation, because her bones still felt the life drawn out of her.

❝ Knowing it wasn't you helps a little, ❞ she muttered, old feelings circling back and choking at her throat. The marriage hadn't been about what she could get in the form of material and monetary assets, she just shouldn't have been left with nothing. Not after nearly a decade. ❝ I don't know if my father will see it the same way, though. ❞ Cami had to be honest, and more than that, she had to let Zayden know she wasn't the only hurdle he had to clear in forgiveness. 

❝ It's never that easy for a woman, ❞ the brunette said quietly, head shaking, ❝ to just leave. Look what your father did to me. Imagine how much worse it would've been for your mother. ❞ It seemed like Zayden had been going through a lot and even then she wouldn't shield him from the harsh reality. ❝ Look at what he did to you. Powerful men, ❞ again, Cami shook her head, ❝ to another prominent man. His own son. ❞ Then she breathed out and discovered she was waning on overload. It was a lot to take all at once. Just having her ex-husband right there in front of her was more than enough to process. ❝ I hope you mom gets to live the life she deserves now. I hope she gets to know freedom and happiness. ❞ Then, a moment later, ❝ I hope the same for you too, Zay. ❞ Sad, brown eyes dropped from his gaze because her following thought was—❛ but you should've protected me ❜.

pru found comfort in the fact that someone noticed her. there was nothing all that particularly special about her, nothing that made her stick out in a crowd. she wrote it off as consistency — as close to a usual local as she could ever get. "some would argue this my default." after losing everything, she'd changed in ways that she never would've thought possible. she supposed the lack of money could do that to a person. "it always feels busy there, but it was stuffier than usual."

she had rejected the same poorly tailored suit three times before he'd muffled something crude under his breath and wandered off to hit another table. it wasn't his fault she had no interest in men with deep pockets, or men who looked old enough to be her father. the woman's offer caused pru's mouth to lift at the corners. it was nice and unprompted, the kind of thing she did for those who looked down on their luck. it wasn't pity that she read in the other's gaze, but understanding.

"that's a bold offer," she started, "but if you're sure, i won't say no." she would make a mental note of it, that one day, she'd return the favor. pru sucked in a shallow breath as she did the math silently. things had been good before xavier pulled the ultimate act of betrayal, but before him, she'd been coasting. life wasn't bad, but it hadn't been good either. "too many to count? if i'm being honest."

she watched as the other leaned into the bar and out of instinct, she leaned towards the wooden countertop too, pulled there by the invisible pull of the woman's orbit. "i think that's impressive on it's own," she assured, pride weaved into the tone of her voice. "so? any thoughts on what the next step is?"

the soft laugh off her tongue was cut short and the smile she'd worn during the entire exchange faded. "what did he look like?" she wanted to find the humor in the man singing anything, but all she could think about was him. "what did he ask?"

❝ ⸻ If there's any place to be honest I've learned it's not at a confessional, or in the psych doc's chair. ❞ With a bit a smirk she tapped the bartop with her index finger. ❝ It's the bar. The only place with the cheapest truth lubrication and we don't ask you to do penance or work on yourself. We just hear you out and maybe tell you about someone we heard that's got it a little worse. ❞

Hearing a shade of pride in someone else's voice moved her a bit so the blonde set to making her hands busy and distracting herself. With life having turned upside down when she'd been nine years old, there was no one really there to tell her good job or that they were proud of her. The relationship with her mother had become so strained as the weight of the past opened up the ground between them. Britt couldn't remember the last time her mother cheered her on, if anything there were guilt trips for the way she actually made some headway in her life and accomplished some things.

❝ I'm not sure, ❞ she answered honestly with a lazy shrug, ❝ there's more school. There's clinical rotations. But I'm satisfied here. I know it's no one's dream job, I've just always liked the work. ❞ In a way she'd even taken a big step up becoming manager of The Siren. One of the most popular bar and restaurants in town. Britt had even been there longer than Max. ❝ I've been told I'm that chick that needs a push out of the nest, ❞ to which she smirked at, ❝ I don't know. ❞