Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(39)

“Rose, what the fuck are you doing here?”

She shrugs, taking her time to chew and swallow before she wipes her mouth and gives me a mischievous grin. “Thought I might check out what y’all do for fun around these parts. The Suture Sisters are cool and all, but I figured crochet club and the gym weren’t your only hobbies.” She glances around us and returns her gaze to mine with a shrug. “Guess I was right.”

“You’re supposed to be at Sandra’s,” I protest, a wave of worry hitting me so hard I feel nauseated.

“I was at Sandra’s, for a bit. But I got bored. One can only work on a sex swing for so long, I guess,” she replies with a shrug.

“How … How did you get here?”

“Larry.”

An irrational spike of anger hits my chest like a lightning strike. “Who the fuck is Larry?”

Her head tilts. “Chill, Doc. You’re touchier than a Risley juggler with athlete’s foot.”




“I’m … what?”

Rose rolls her eyes at my inability to decipher her obscure circus lingo. “You’re irritable.” I open my mouth to protest, but she’s already shifted gears when she says, “You don’t know Trucker Larry? He’s your neighbor six houses down across the street.” For a moment, I consider lying and claiming I know who the hell she means. But that won’t fly with Rose. She merely grins around another bite of her hot dog and pierces me with her sharp, dark eyes. “Have you been living in Hartford, Doc? Or have you just been hidin’ out in it?”

My gaze drops from hers as I turn her words over in my mind. I know she’s right, of course, but it feels different to hear it from someone on the outside. I’ve had my head down, doing my work, keeping to myself. If a person hasn’t come into the clinic, chances are I haven’t gotten to know them. And even if they’ve been to my practice, can I say I’ve really made many friends in town? This Blood Brothers fight club is the closest thing I’ve had to socialization until I wound up with the Suture Sisters, and even this is realistically more of a job than it is a night off with friends.

A job.

I finally realize I’m here to suture somebody’s face, and the gash across his brow is only half stitched up.

“Sorry,” I grumble as I turn back to my patient.

“No need to apologize, Dr. Kane,” the guy says as I slide my curved suture needle through his skin. “I’d rather look at her pretty face than mine too if I were in your position.”

“Nah, you’re the prettiest one here, Nate,” Rose says, adding accelerant to the fire that’s already burning through my veins. I turn my incredulous glare to Rose, who gives me a saccharine smile as she wipes her fingers clean then tosses the napkin into a nearby bin. She grips the handles of her crutches and points one in my patient’s direction. “What, you’re telling me you don’t know Nate either? Nate the Natural? He makes those wicked-cool chainsaw wood sculptures all over town. The bear is badass, Nate.”

“Thanks, Rose.” Nate only grins when I narrow my eyes at him and pierce his brow a little more roughly than necessary for the next stitch. I try not to glance over at Rose as I concentrate on the work of my hands, and Nate can see it, my struggle to keep my attention where it belongs. So he takes every opportunity to ask Rose questions about her broken leg or her tarot cards, or worst of all, How long before you’re back on the road with the circus?

“Last one,” I interject before Rose has a chance to answer. I tie the final knot and clip the thread free, then rise from my stool. “See you around.”

Nate gives me a slow smile that’s equal parts teasing and pitying. “Thanks, man,” he says, shaking my hand before he turns away. “Rose, stop by my shop next Sunday and I’ll have something for you.”

“No, you won’t,” I grumble, but no one can hear me over the drone of the crowd. I clean up my workstation, but really I hang on every word Rose says as she agrees to visit Nate’s shop and compliments the new scar on his brow before giving him a brief hug. Even after Nate’s moved out of my peripheral vision, I still don’t look over at Rose. Instead, I busy myself with resetting my table, but I feel her dark eyes on me the entire time.

I finally set down the last item, a fresh, curved needle, when Rose says, “You okay there, Doc?”

No. “Yeah. All good.”




“You sure?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” I blurt out. It feels like all the sound is sucked out of the room. Like I could pick Rose’s voice out of the chaos, but her silence is just as loud. When I finally look up, she has her arms crossed despite leaning on her crutches, and it looks as fierce as it does awkward.

“Why not?”

“It’s not safe.”

Rose casts her gaze around us in an arc that sweeps across the ceiling and the crowd before returning to me. “Yeah, structurally this place is probably not great. One dodgy bolt and we’ll all be crushed to death by rotten beams and broken dreams.”

I give Rose a flat glare and mischief dances across her face. “You know what I mean. It’s not safe for you. Your leg. This crowd. The person who could show up, if you know what I mean.”

“You mean Matt? He’s busy making hay. Lucy’s younger sister’s best friend’s boyfriend told me at the car wash today.”