Chapter 3

Eight years ago, Ethan had just finished his fellowship at Johns Hopkins. He was being recruited — headhunted, really — into a top neurosurgery program at Boston Memorial Medical Center.

When Dad got the news, his hands were shaking with pride. He spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen making every dish Ethan had loved as a kid.

I drove out to the train station at the time Ethan had given me, to pick him up.

I saw him from a distance as he came through the gate.

When I got closer, I realized he wasn't alone.

A girl in a cream-white coat was clinging to his arm. Striking, even from that distance — the kind of beauty that made people look twice.

I nudged him.

"So. Is this—"

Ethan nodded, but his expression was tight in a way I couldn't read.

"Anna, when we get home — if Dad gets upset, help me smooth it over, okay?"

I thought he was being dramatic.

He was almost thirty. He was bringing home a girlfriend. Dad was going to be over the moon.

But my teasing didn't seem to land with him at all.

The whole ride back to the house, Ethan was strung tight as a wire. He held Vivienne's hand so hard his knuckles were white.

When we walked in, Dad froze for half a second at the sight of her. Then he recovered and smiled and waved us to the table.

I shot Ethan a smug look. See? You were worrying about nothing.

Dinner started easy enough. Until Dad asked, casually —

"Vivienne, what do your folks do?"

She glanced at Ethan before answering, softly.

"...my father's in medicine too."

Ethan jumped in immediately. He said her father had been an old acquaintance of his mentor's. He said she and Ethan had been together since college. He said they were serious about each other.

Dad's brow was starting to knit.

"What's your father's name? Where is he based?"

She said a name.

Dad's fork hit the plate with a clatter.

A second later, he flipped the entire table.

Dishes shattered across the floor. Hot soup splashed across the hem of Vivienne's dress.

"Get out."

His voice was a roar.

"Dad—"

Ethan pushed Vivienne behind him and tried to explain.

Dad pointed at the door.

"Out."

I had never seen my father that angry in my life.

His whole face was purple. He looked like an animal that had been cornered once too often, and had finally decided to fight back.

"As long as I'm still breathing, she does not set foot in this house."

Ethan stumbled backward through the broken glass, keeping Vivienne behind him, and that was when I finally understood what his tension in the car had been about. What that quiet plea — help me smooth it over — had actually meant.

But it was way too late.

Dad had thrown them both out.

Ethan stood out there in the freezing wind, eyes rimmed red, shouting back at him.

"Dad! That was their generation! It was years ago! Why can't you let it go?"

"Vivienne and I are in love. Whatever happened between you and her father — that's on you two, not on us!"

Dad didn't answer.

He just slumped against the doorframe, pulling at his collar, struggling to breathe.

I ran for his pill bottle. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely work the cap.

He swallowed the tablets and slid down the doorframe until he was sitting on the floor with his hands over his face.

Tears slipped out between his fingers.

"Your mother," he rasped.

"When the Sterlings ruined me, her heart gave out. She was rushed to the hospital."

"I was the only surgeon qualified to do that operation. But my license had been revoked. They wouldn't let me into the OR..."

"I stood there and watched her—"

I couldn't move.