I had patched men up under mortar fire. I had held pressure on wounds while helicopters screamed overhead. I knew what danger looked like.
But nothing prepared me for seeing my roommate in my room, holding my life like evidence.
“Tessa,” I said slowly. “Tell me I’m not walking into a felony.”
She swallowed.
Tessa Collins was twenty-eight, an ER nurse at St. Mary’s, and the only person on earth who could make sarcasm sound like a vital sign. She had messy brown hair, tired eyes, and the kind of face people trusted before they knew why.
Right now, she looked terrified.
Not caught-cheating terrified.
Not embarrassed terrified.
The kind of terrified people get when they have been carrying a secret too long and it finally turns around with teeth.
“Ethan,” she said, “I can explain.”
