Sienna spent the next week packing for London.
The same guy who used to have separation anxiety if she didn’t answer his texts within five minutes? Yeah, he’d ghosted her for seven straight days.
Obviously playing Florence Nightingale to his precious Nina.
When he finally showed up at her door, he looked like he’d been living at the hospital.
“Hey,” he said, not even trying to come in. “So Nina feels super guilty about all the drama. She wants to take us to dinner – you know, clear the air and stuff.”
Sienna kept shoving sweaters into her suitcase. “Hard pass.”
“Look, I get that you’re embarrassed about what happened,” he sighed, “but why am I the one who has to fix this?”
She stopped packing and looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Embarrassed about what, exactly?”
Ryan clearly hadn’t thought that through. He switched tactics, going full puppy–dog mode. “Okay, whatever, we both messed up. Can we just call it even? Nina’s been torturing herself all week thinking she ruined our relationship…”
God, she was so tired of fighting. She let him drag her to some bougie gastropub in West Hollywood.
Nina was already there looking like she’d been crying, nervously sliding the drink menu across the table.
Ryan took charge immediately, rattling off orders like he was Nina’s personal nutritionist – Nashville hot chicken, jalape?o mac and cheese, ghost pepper wings. Basically a spice tolerance test from hell.
Sienna watched him order Nina’s entire comfort food lineup from memory.
Meanwhile, he’d forgotten that buffalo sauce gave her heartburn for days.
When the food arrived, she didn’t even try to fake it.
“Sienna…” Nina’s voice got all shaky. “You’re not eating anything. Do you hate me that much?”
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Chapter 5
“Come on, babe,” Ryan shot her his disappointed boyfriend look. “I thought we were gonna be adults
about this.”
“I’m not being dramatic,” she said, pushing away her untouched plate. “Everything here is basically liquid fire, and I literally cannot eat spicy food without being sick for three days. You used to know
that.”
Ryan’s face went through about five different emotions as he looked at the table of molten lava masquerading as dinner.
“Oh fuck. I completely forgot…”
He was about to flag down their server when this massive light fixture came crashing down from the ceiling.
CRASH!
Both Sienna and Nina got caught in the wreckage – metal and glass exploding everywhere.
“Sienna!”
Ryan started toward her, but Nina’s panicked screaming cut through everything. “Ryan! Help me, please!”
For exactly one heartbeat, he froze.
Then he made his choice. Scooped Nina up like some action movie hero and sprinted for the exit.
“Someone call 911!” he shouted, not even glancing back at Sienna who was trapped under a chunk of twisted metal.
She watched him disappear through the restaurant doors, carrying another girl to safety.
It hit her like déjà vu – that time in eighth grade when she’d wiped out on her bike and broken her wrist. Ryan had literally sprinted six blocks carrying her on his back, crying harder than she was, refusing to let go of her hand even when the paramedics arrived.
Same energy. Different girl.
Her vision started tunneling, the sound of sirens getting farther away.
She came to in some hospital hallway, still on the paramedic gurney. A frazzled–looking nurse was
Chapter S
trying to get her attention.
“Sienna? Honey, can you hear me?”
Everything hurt. Glass was still embedded in her arms, and she was pretty sure something was wrong with her ribs.
“Look, this is super awkward,” the nurse continued, “but Ryan Mitchell had all our surgeons pulled for his friend’s case. We can get you transferred to UCLA, but with your injuries, the ambulance ride
might be risky. Maybe you could text him? Ask him to spare one doctor?”
The fucking irony. Mitchell Medical Center – Ryan’s family basically built this place.
She used to joke that if she ever got a paper cut here, Ryan would have the entire surgical team on standby. Now he’d literally monopolized the trauma unit for Nina.
With bloody, shaking fingers, she tried calling him.
Ring… ring… ring…
Voicemail.
Again.
Ring… ring… ring…
Still nothing.
One more try.
Dead silence.
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From Root Triandwin
Chapter 6
