Page 122 of None Of Your Business

Someone is trying to break down my front door.

That’s my first coherent thought. My second is that whoever it is deserves to die.

I open my eyes to weak morning light pushing through the gap in the curtains and the warm weight of Rowan curled against my side, one knee tucked between mine.

The pounding comes again.

Rowan makes a small, irritated sound and burrows deeper into the pillow.

I glance at the clock. Seven-eighteen.

Fuck.

I’m usually awake before six, but I turned my alarm off last night. Rowan was exhausted. She’d eaten, then fallen asleep halfway through a show with her legs across my lap.

The pounding starts a third time.

I slide out of bed without waking her, pull on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and head downstairs with murder on my mind.

I know who it is before I turn the handle. Very few people are arrogant enough to show up at my house unannounced this early.

Beckett stands on the porch in navy scrubs, an overnight bag slung over one shoulder.

He takes one look at me, his eyebrows climbing. “Were you asleep?”

“You were knocking. I assume you already know the answer.”

It’s not unusual for Beckett to stop here after a night shift. The hospital isn’t far, and over the years my house has become the place he lands when he’s too wired to sleep but too tired to go home. Sometimes he brings coffee. Sometimes he steals mine.

Normally, I don’t care. Right now, he needs to fuck off.

I move to close the door, but he plants a hand against it. His eyes shift from my face to the narrow crack of the doorframe, then back again.

His exhaustion disappears with impressive speed. “You have someone here.”

“Yes.”

His mouth slowly curves. Jesus Christ.

“Who?”

“None of your business.”

A loud thud sounds upstairs.

We both freeze.

Then—”Stupid motherfucking—”

My eyes close. Beckett’s widen.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

Another bang echoes down the hall.

“Why is stubbing your toe the worst fucking pain in the world? Ow. Fucking piece of shit bed.”

I slowly open my eyes. Beckett is staring at me. I stare back.