Alaina dragged herself out of bed. She had spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, her mind a chaotic mess of memories she had tried to bury.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. She splashed freezing water onto her face, hoping the shock would wash away the dark circles under her eyes.

She changed into her practical navy scrubs, grabbed her metro card, and walked out of the apartment.

The New York subway was packed. She stood shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers until she reached the Manhattan Central Hospital.

She walked quickly through the crowded outpatient lobby and headed straight for the staff locker room.

She opened her metal locker, pulled out her crisp white coat, and slipped her arms through the sleeves.

She draped her stethoscope around her neck and pinned her badge to her lapel. It read: Dr. Strong, Maxillofacial Surgery.

She walked out of the locker room and headed toward the nurses' station to check the morning charts.

Leah Fischer, a first-year intern, ran up to her, clutching a metal clipboard to her chest.

"Dr. Strong," Leah said, speaking too fast. "The ER just admitted a patient with significant mandibular trauma from a fall. She's a VIP, so they're handling it with extra care."

Alaina nodded. She took the clipboard from Leah's hands and walked briskly toward the emergency wing.

She walked down the long corridor. The heavy smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol filled her nose. She stopped outside the door of ER Room 3.

Her hand wrapped around the cold metal handle. Before she could push down, a deep, magnetic male voice drifted through the gap in the door.

The sound of that voice-a sound carved into her very bones-made her entire body freeze.

Her heart slammed violently against her ribs. She took a sharp breath, pushed down on the handle, and shoved the door open.

Her eyes bypassed the hospital bed entirely. They crashed straight into the broad back of a tall man standing by the window, wearing a black custom overcoat.

Hearing the door open, the man turned around slowly.

Jarred Mcknight's dark, aggressive eyes locked onto hers.

In that single second of eye contact, the eight years of separation folded into nothing.

Alaina felt the oxygen get sucked out of the room. Her fingernails dug so hard into her palms that the skin nearly broke.

Jarred's gaze dropped to the badge on her chest. His eyes darkened, becoming unreadable.

A sharp groan broke the dead silence. The woman on the bed, Chelsey Nunez, was clutching her chin, her face twisted in pain.

Jarred pulled his eyes away from Alaina. His face went completely blank.

"Chelsey, this is Dr. Strong," Jarred said.

His tone was pure ice. The professional, distant way he said her name felt like a physical slap across Alaina's face.

Alaina swallowed the bitter lump in her throat. She forced her professional mask into place, locking her emotions behind a wall of clinical detachment.

She reached into the pocket of her white coat, pulled out a pair of blue latex gloves, and snapped them onto her hands.

She walked with steady steps toward the side of the bed.

"Can you tell me exactly how you fell?" Alaina asked Chelsey, keeping her voice even.

"I was riding in Central Park," Chelsey whispered, wincing. "A stray dog ran out. I swerved and hit the pavement."

Jarred lifted his wrist. He glanced at his Patek Philippe watch. A muscle feathered in his jaw, betraying his impatience.

Alaina ignored him. She leaned over the bed, bringing her face closer to Chelsey to examine the swelling along the jawline.

Alaina pressed her gloved fingers gently against the red, swollen edge of Chelsey's jaw.

Chelsey flinched violently. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

Jarred moved instantly. He took a long stride forward, closing the distance to the hospital bed.

He raised his large hand and hovered it just above Chelsey's shoulder, a stark, physical display of protection.

"Is there not a less aggressive way to examine her?" Jarred demanded. His voice was hard, cutting through the sterile air.

Alaina's fingers froze mid-air.

Seeing him so fiercely protective of another woman ripped open the scab on a wound she thought had healed.

She pulled her hand back. She stripped off the latex gloves and threw them into the biohazard bin.

"It is a necessary palpation to check for bone displacement," Alaina said. Her voice was rigid and cold.

She picked up the clipboard and quickly scribbled down her assessment. "You have a mandibular fracture. It requires immediate surgery."

Chelsey's face drained of color. Panic set in. She looked up at Jarred, her eyes begging for comfort.

Jarred softened his posture. He lowered his voice. "Don't be afraid. I will get you the best medical team available."

That soft Don't be afraid hit Alaina like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Alaina lowered her eyelashes. She stared hard at the black ink on the chart until the letters blurred together.

The beeping of the heart monitor faded into the background. Her mind was violently yanked back to a torrential, rain-soaked night eight years ago.

She saw a younger Jarred standing in the pouring rain. His clothes were soaked through, sticking to his skin. His eyes were bloodshot as he gripped her hands.

She remembered the raw desperation in his voice as he begged her not to give up on them.

She remembered the crushing weight of his family's absolute disapproval, the impossible chasm between their worlds, and the terrible choice she was forced to make. She remembered forcing herself to say the most vicious, heartless things to push Jarred away, to protect him from his own family's wrath.

She remembered the exact moment he finally let go of her hands. She remembered the broken, defeated line of his back as he turned and walked away into the storm.

A loud crash from a metal cart rolling past the ER door snapped Alaina back to the present.

She blinked hard, forcing the burning moisture back down her tear ducts.

When she lifted her head, her face was a flawless mask of medical authority.

She handed the signed clipboard to Leah, who was standing quietly in the corner.

"NPO starting now. No food or water. Prep her for anesthesia," Alaina instructed Chelsey in a flat, monotone voice.

Jarred narrowed his eyes. His sharp gaze caught the slight tremor in Alaina's fingertips as she handed over the board.

A complex emotion flashed in his dark eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched upward into a microscopic, mocking smirk.

Alaina turned her body toward the door. She couldn't stay in this room for another second.

"If you experience any breathing difficulties, press the call button for the nurse," Alaina said to the room.

She walked fast. She pushed open the heavy metal door of the ER and stepped out into the hallway.

The door slowly swung shut behind her, finally cutting off the heavy, suffocating weight of Jarred's stare.

Alaina walked to the corner of the corridor. She leaned her back against the cold, tiled wall and gasped for air.

Alaina kept her eyes closed. She pressed her spine against the cold wall, taking slow, deep breaths to force her racing heart to slow down.

Leah walked out of the ER room a minute later. She stopped and looked at Alaina with concern. "Dr. Strong, you look awful. Do you need to sit down?"

Alaina shook her head. She pushed herself off the wall and walked toward the water cooler at the end of the hall.

She grabbed a small paper cup, filled it halfway with cold water, and threw it back in one gulp.

The freezing liquid hit her stomach, clearing the fog in her brain just enough to remember protocol.

She realized she hadn't gotten the secondary consent form signed by the accompanying family member. She sighed and walked back down the hall.

When she reached Room 3, she noticed the heavy door wasn't fully latched. It was slightly ajar. She nudged it open just a fraction more to listen.

Alaina raised her hand to knock, but Chelsey's soft, grateful voice drifted through the crack.

Alaina paused. Through the widened crack, she saw Chelsey looking up at Jarred, who was now sitting in the plastic visitor's chair.

Jarred didn't respond to Chelsey's thanks. He casually reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his phone to check a notification.

As the screen lit up, Chelsey leaned forward slightly, catching a glimpse of the display.

"Oh, what a beautiful wallpaper," Chelsey said. "Is that the Redwood Grove in California?"

Outside the door, Alaina's heart skipped a violent beat.

The Redwood Grove. It was the place they had promised to visit together eight years ago. The trip they never got to take.

Inside the room, Jarred's relaxed posture vanished. His shoulders went rigid.

His thumb slammed down on the lock button. The screen went pitch black instantly.

Jarred's face darkened. "I'm just too lazy to change it," he snapped. His voice was harsh and biting.

The sudden aggression in his tone made Chelsey shrink back against the pillows, too intimidated to say another word.

Jarred yanked at his silk tie, loosening it with a frustrated jerk. He stood up abruptly. "My assistant will be here in five minutes to handle the rest of this."

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

Alaina panicked. She took two quick steps backward, holding the consent form up to her face, pretending to read the fine print.

The ER door was pulled open violently. Jarred stepped out into the hallway, bringing a wave of cold, intimidating energy with him.

As he walked past Alaina, his long stride faltered for a fraction of a second.

The scent of his custom cologne-a rich blend of cedarwood and mint-washed over her, suffocating her senses.

Jarred looked down at her from his height. A low, dark scoff escaped his lips.

It was a sound full of mockery, as if he could see right through her pathetic attempt to look busy.

He didn't say a word. He just kept walking, his long legs carrying him down the corridor until he disappeared around the corner.

Alaina gripped the edges of the clipboard. Her knuckles turned stark white.

The detail of the Redwood wallpaper acted like a crowbar, prying open the sealed box of her convictions. Her certainty that he had moved on began to crack.

She bit her lower lip, pushed the door open, and walked back in to face Chelsey.