It Ends with Us

Did I mention he was wearing a onesie?
I’m talking a legit, full-grown man in a SpongeBob
onesie.
“This is your husband?” I ask her, cocking an eyebrow.
Allysa rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately,” she says, glancing
back at him. Another guy (also in a onesie) walks in
behind them, but my attention is on Allysa as she explains
why they’re wearing pajamas on a random Wednesday
afternoon. “There’s a bar down the street that gives out
free beer to anyone who shows up in a onesie during a
Bruins game.” She makes her way over to me and motions
for the guys to follow her. “She fell off the chair and hurt
her ankle,” she says to the other guy. He steps around
Marshall and the first thing I notice are his arms.
Holy shit. I know those arms.
Those are the arms of a neurosurgeon.
Allysa is his sister? The sister that owns the entire top
floor, with the husband who works in pajamas and brings
in seven figures a year?
As soon as my eyes lock with Ryle’s, his whole face
morphs into a smile. I haven’t seen him in—God, how long
ago was that—six months? I can’t say I haven’t thought
about him during the past six months, because I’ve
thought about him quite a few times. But I never actually
thought I’d see him again.
“Ryle, this is Lily. Lily, my brother, Ryle,” she says,
motioning toward him. “And that’s my husband,
Marshall.”

---

Ryle walks over to me and kneels down. “Lily,” he says,
regarding me with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”
It’s obvious he remembers me—I can see it in his
knowing smile. But like me, he’s pretending this is the
first time we’ve met. I’m not sure I’m in the mood to
explain how we already know each other.
Ryle touches my ankle and inspects it. “Can you move
it?”
I try to move it, but a sharp pain shoots all the way up
my leg. I suck in air through my teeth and shake my head.
“Not yet. It hurts.”
Ryle motions to Marshall. “Find something to put the
ice in.”
Allysa follows Marshall out of the room. When they’re
both gone, Ryle looks at me and his mouth turns up into
a grin. “I won’t charge you for this, but only because I’m
slightly inebriated,” he says with a wink.
I tilt my head. “The first time I met you, you were high.
Now you’re drunk. I’m beginning to worry you aren’t
going to make a very qualified neurosurgeon.”
He laughs. “It would appear that way,” he says. “But I
promise you, I rarely ever get high and this is my first day
off in over a month, so I really needed a beer. Or five.”
Marshall comes back with an old rag wrapped around
some ice. He hands it to Ryle, who presses it against my
ankle. “I’ll need that first aid kit out of your trunk,” Ryle
says to Allysa. She nods and grabs Marshall’s hand,
pulling him out of the room again.
Ryle presses his palm against the bottom of my foot.
“Push against my hand,” he says.
I push down with my ankle. It hurts, but I’m able to
move his hand. “Is it broken?”
He moves my foot from side to side, and then says, “I
don’t think so. Let’s give it a couple of minutes and I’ll

---

see if you can put any weight on it.”
I nod and watch as he adjusts himself across from me.
He sits cross-legged and pulls my foot onto his lap. He
looks around the room and then directs his attention
back at me. “So what is this place?”
I smile a little too big. “Lily Bloom’s. It’ll be a floral
shop in about two months’ time.”
I swear, his whole face lights up with pride. “No way,”
he says. “You did it? You’re actually opening up your own
business?”
I nod. “Yep. I figured I might as well try it while I’m
still young enough to bounce back from failure.”
One of his hands is holding the ice against my ankle,
but the other one is wrapped around my bare foot. He’s
brushing his thumb back and forth, like it’s no big deal
that he’s touching me. But his hand on my foot is way
more noticeable than the pain in my ankle.
“I look ridiculous, huh?” he asks, staring down at his
solid red onesie.
I shrug. “At least you went with a non-character choice.
It gives it a bit more maturity than the SpongeBob
option.”
He laughs, and then his smile disappears as he leans
his head into the door beside him. He stares at me
appreciatively. “You’re even prettier in the daytime.”
Moments like these are why I absolutely hate having
red hair and fair skin. The embarrassment doesn’t only
show up in my cheeks—my whole face, arms, and neck
grow flushed.
I rest my head against the wall behind me and stare at
him just like he’s staring at me. “You want to hear a naked
truth?”
He nods.

---

“I’ve wanted to go back to your roof on more than one
occasion since that night. But I was too scared you’d be
there. You make me kind of nervous.”
His fingers pause their strokes against my foot. “My
turn?”
I nod.
His eyes narrow as his hand moves to the underneath
of my foot. He slowly traces his fingers from the tops of
my toes, down to my heel. “I still very much want to fuck
you.”
Someone gasps, and it isn’t me.
Ryle and I both look at the doorway and Allysa is
standing there, wide-eyed. Her mouth is open as she
points down at Ryle. “Did you just . . .” She looks at me
and says, “I am so sorry about him, Lily.” And then she
looks back at Ryle with venom in her eyes. “Did you just
tell my boss you want to fuck her?”