Novel-novel oleh Jeanette

QUINCY POVThe last time I saw Maxwell Russo, we were seventeen and both barefoot on a wet football field. He kissed me and promised me forever. His family sent him overseas after that… or so I heard, and forever was only a week long.He sat before me now in a cinched grey T-shirt, sling across his arm, looking nothing like the kid I had once known—and somehow, exactly the same."So… you're a nurse now," he'd said, after an awkward pause."And you're… not actually crippled, are you?" I said, raising my eyebrow.His mouth quirked. "You were always quick.""I work with orthopedics. That's not an actual brace, Max."He held up his hands. "Okay, okay. You caught me. Let's just say this was a strategic misdirection."I crossed my arms. "Does the hospital know you're lying or you’re faking this whole…?""Apparently, I’m not lying ," he corrected. "And yes. Ashley's involved. This was the least messy way out of that damn marriage." He murmured the last part.I blinked. "You faked an injury t

MAXWELL POVI had to admit, Dr. Ashley was dramatic. "You want to fake an injury," he stated flatly, holding a foam neck brace in one hand and a roll of gauze in the other."No," I started, "I want to speed up the inevitable. If Nora believes I'm no longer 'public-worthy,' she'll sign the divorce without turning it into a Broadway spectacle."Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You're playing on her vanity."I shrugged indifferently. "It's not manipulation if it's the truth."He tossed the brace on the couch and let out a sigh. "Most people break up over one-night stands and texts. You stage a car accident and bribe a doctor."“Well, something has to work," I muttered.He laughed sharply. "You need help.""Guess, you’re my help."Ashley adjusted his stethoscope around his neck. “Lucky me.”He examined the fake reports he had drawn up—dislocated shoulder, minor back strain, nerve compression. All believable. All temporary.I slipped on the sling. “Convincing?”Ashley studied me, then nodded. “Co

QUINCY POVThere were exactly six and a half crayons under my couch. I knew this because Eva made it her mission in life to find every single one of them before breakfast."Found purple!" she cried out happily, holding the crayon high up like a trophy before crawling farther under the cushions. "But no orange yet, mommy."I leaned against the kitchen counter, drinking lukewarm coffee and watching her little feet sticking out from the living room as if they had a life of their own."You don't need to use orange," I said to her. "Use pink for the sun."She gasped as if I'd committed a crime. "Mommy, that's not proper." Her proper came out as ‘pwopa’ and I found it cute."Oh, is it now?""Yes mommy."I smiled, despite the ache in my eyes. Mornings like this did come often-quiet, silly, soft around the edges. Most mornings I was running on three hours of sleep and whatever coffee I could scrounge out between shifts.But today, I had a half-shift, and Eva was spending the afternoon with my

MAXWELL POVThe problem with appearances was that they came with an expiration date.Sooner or later, someone looks past the pressed pants, the pretty smile, the rehearsed lines and they see the real thing.Mine was in front of me in four-inch heels and silk, kissing her secretary like he was her husband and not me.I didn't blink. I didn't say a word. I just watched them on the screen, the hotel security loop running before me.Nora moved away from the man—Mark, or Jordan, I think—and laughed as she rubbed her lipstick off his mouth. She glowed and looked free. Like a woman who didn't have a husband to return to.I closed the laptop.I wasn't surprised.Nora and I had been married for two years, and I had never seen her look at me like that before. It was a bargain from the beginning—power, business, respect. Her father wanted to keep the name Russo tied to legacy. My father wanted me to stop disgracing the royal house with my "unserious behavior." And I was weary of battling both of

QUINCY POVThe beeping of the heart monitor was almost soothing. Rhythmic. Predictable. Unlike of the rest of my life."Room 208 needs a refill on saline," Linda said, depositing a chart in my hands before disappearing down the hall in a whirl of mint-colored scrubs and exhaustion. I nodded, made a note, and moved along.My twelve-hour shift had finally ended, and my legs were pleading to take a break. The soft soles of my shoes did not do much against the hospital floors’ hard tiles. I swept a stray black curl back behind my ear and let out a sigh. One more hour.One more hour, and I could go fetch Eva from my sister's place and pretend to not be as tired and drained as I felt. Pretend to read her a bedtime story and sing that goofy "Goodnight Moon" remix she needed every night.The door of Room 212 was ajar, and I hesitated in opening it."Hello, Mr. Charlie," I whispered, stepping into the darkened room. He was already asleep. I smiled, readjusted his IV line, and took a quick peek