Visiting his mother and stepfather was far from exciting, or even pleasant. For Brandon, the boisterous group of guys surrounding him made the long flight from Boston worthwhile. Their friendships had made life bearable over many years in the small Montana town he'd once called home.

"Congratulations, Dr. Reynolds." His best friend, Rory, lifted a glass. "Both on earning your MD and on the new job! When do you start?"

"July." He tapped his drink against his friend's, smiling at the memory of the day he accepted the hard-won honor of calling himself doctor.

"This bum! Living the good life! You'll soon be rich!" His friend, Jayce, elbowed him in the ribs.

"I wish," he said under his breath. The numerous zeroes on his loan statement far exceeded the few pathetic zeroes accompanying his new salary as an intern. He had four more years of intense training in store before earning more than a minimal income.

"...can't wait to meet this girl of yours. When are you bringing her for a visit?" Jayce asked.

Brandon brought his gaze upward, forcing himself to reengage in the conversation. He curled his lip, taking another swig from his beer. "I like her! Why subject her to my mother?"

A round of laughter erupted around the table. His mother was notorious amongst his friends. Brandon rarely introduced his girlfriends or even mentioned the women he dated within the four walls of her house.

Jayce reached for Brandon's phone, which lay face down on the table. "I haven't seen a picture."

Brandon grabbed for the device a split second too late, kicking himself for leaving it out.

"Is this her?" His friend peered at the screen as it buzzed, a new text notification appearing at the top. "No wonder you decided on a little cradle robbing. Awww, sweet. She sent you a picture. And... she's about to call." The guy turned the phone, showing Brandon the name _Savannah_ displayed across the screen. "This must be her now."

"Give me that!" Brandon snatched at the phone.

"Uh-uh." Jayce cleared his throat as he tapped the answer button. "Well, hello there! What's that, darling? You want to speak with our boy, Brandon? Might cost ya."

"Don't be an ass." Brandon wrestled the phone from his friend's grasp. "Sorry. Ignore Jayce," he said, throwing his friend a dark look.

"Sounds like you're having fun."

He let out a sigh, relieved she sound more amused than upset at being addressed as _darling._ "Just drinks with the guys. How about you?" He stepped through the front doors, reveling in the light summer breeze and silence.

"We climbed three hundred and eighty-seven steps to the top of the Notre Dame bell tower. Our award is enjoying the premiere crème de glace in Paris," she said. "The gargoyles are amazing. Did you see the picture of me with the bell?"

"Not yet, 'cause Jayce hijacked my phone." He swept a hand through his hair. "What flavor?"

"_Caramel au beurre salé._ I've gained ten pounds from ice cream and gelato."

"I bet you look amazing." Brandon closed his eyes, picturing her sweet smile. "I miss you."

"Me too," she said softly. "I hear you've been busy saving lives."

"That was an intense day." The major pile-up he'd attended with Aiden had been a nightmare. "Your dad kept his cool."

"Not much phases him," she said. "Have I ever told you how I found my dad?"

Brandon frowned. "No, actually."

"I'll tell you someday."

"Deal. How are you and Tiffany getting along now you've spent more than two hours together?"

"Another thing to fill you in on," she said.

"She's right there, huh?"

"Sure. But it's... good. Hey, I have to go. We're meeting Stefan for dinner. But only ten more sleeps, and I'll be home."

"Can't wait to see you. Enjoy that amazing French cuisine. Bye, sweetie." Brandon hung up, leaning back against the building, propping the sole of one foot flat against the brickwork. He stared at the wisp of clouds floating across the bright summer sky, wishing he were there with her.

Their weeks apart had been more difficult than anticipated. Even his busy work schedule, hanging out with Nate, and multiple dinners with Aiden and Emily hadn't soothed the ache of missing her.

"There you are." Rory tipped his head back, squinting skyward before focusing on Brandon. "How's Savannah?"

"Having a grand time in Paris." He sighed, watching as the wisps changed shape. It reminded of him of when they were kids; hot summer days filled with adventure, far from the worries of adulthood. Those long-ago days were simple and easy.

"Man, you have it bad." His friend furrowed his brow. "You're never like this about a girl. When do I meet her?"

"When can you visit Boston?" Brandon lifted one shoulder. "Bad enough Piper's a complete bitch about the relationship. I don't need Carol or Jeremy adding their opinions." He threw his friend a sideways look. "You know how they get."

"Enough said." Rory patted his shoulder. "Sorry about Piper."

"The girl's ridiculous. Why does she assume calling dibs on Vanna's friendship gives her the right to interfere in my relationship?"

"You've heard my opinion."

"She's my little sister." Brandon grimaced.

"Who isn't blood-related, dude. At least consider her ulterior motives."

"I seriously hope you're wrong!" Brandon shuddered. "Piper's too close to being related. And too young."

"Says the man dating her friend of the same age."

"Savannah doesn't act eighteen. She's more mature than most women our age."

"How long have you been dating?"

Brandon squinted. "Define dating." He struggled to calculate their relationship timeline. It had started off as a passionate, amazing week, followed by a hiatus after the revelations rolled in. That his Zoe was eighteen, not twenty-one. His stepsister's friend. Real name Savannah. Followed by the complete awkwardness of discovering her last name was Hamilton. The beloved daughter of his ER supervisor. Not his finest moment. Or, hers.

"That right there is a big ole red flag." Rory's lips twisted. "When did you date for real? Not some no-strings-attached week of hot sex with a random chick you rescued from the big bad ex in a bar, Brandon. A real, honest relationship, where you called her by her actual name?"

"April?" But, he'd been entranced by Savannah by the end of their first week together. Those amazing days they'd spent in late January before things went to hell. Maybe it didn't count. His friend didn't think so.

"Three months, bud. That's nothing, even if it's challenging your record. Autumn was only ten." Rory smirked. "Bet she'd love to see you."

"Not a chance." Brandon shook his index finger at his friend. "I'm with Vanna."

"Kidding!"

"More like testing!"

"I hope Savannah is committed to you." Rory tilted his head. "A month apart is a long time. That's a third of the relationship. And she's a long way from home."

"She's traveling with her mother. I doubt she's club hopping and picking up French dudes." Brandon kicked at the thin layer of grit on the sidewalk.

Rory threw a light punch against Brandon's shoulder. "Watch out, or she'll have you picking curtains."

"Shut up, asshole." He gave his friend a shove even as the grin twitched at his lips.

Rory feinted another couple of light punches, laughing as they roughhoused.

"I give." Brandon held up his hands.

"Getting soft, are you?" Rory asked. "Hey, there's a barbecue tomorrow afternoon. You should come. You don't even have to talk to Autumn."

"We'll see."

"No excuses. It'll be the last time we see you for months." Rory observed him steadily. "I'm sorry for not making your celebration. But, I'm super proud of you, man. You worked your butt off."

"It's a long and expensive flight." Brandon hadn't expected his friends to show, given the distance. "Savannah made the trip with her family."

"But not your mother or anyone else from that household." His friend shook his head.

"Story of my life." A vague edge of disappointment bit him at his family's lack of support, but it was for the best. "My mother's embarrassing. She would have gotten loaded or done something stupid. Though, I'd loved to have seen Mia. But," he smiled, "I had a great time, and a celebratory dinner with my ER supervisors. It's all good."

"Wish your residency was closer. Hey, let's play some pool and have a few more drinks."

"You're on." Brandon followed his friend inside, glad the inquisition was over.

✯ ✯ ✯

"Up!" The stern voice commanded, dragging Brandon from his peaceful dreams.

"Tired," he mumbled as he burrowed deeper into his pillow.

"You wouldn't be if you came home at a decent hour." Her shrill tone sliced into his brain.

Brandon winced as a waft of cool morning air hit his bare skin. "What the hell?" He grabbed a wisp of sheet before he suffered total exposure.

"Put some clothes on! And get your ass out of bed." His mother loomed over him, hands on hips. "Later, you're on a plane to Boston. I've hardly seen you!"

He smothered his scoff. The only thing she ever wanted to do was get drunk and enjoy using him as a convenient emotional punching bag. "I'm up. Just get out of my room. Don't know who's worse, you or Piper," he muttered, cringing at the memory of his immature stepsister barging in on him and Vanna.

Half an hour later, after a hot shower, he entered the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He grimaced at the bitterness biting his tongue. He didn't know if it had always been this bad. Maybe he'd become spoiled in Boston.

"What's that face about?" Jeremy looked up from his seat at the kitchen table.

"Nothing." He dumped in a liberal dose of sugar, hoping to disguise the taste. Critiquing anything would invite a lecture on gratefulness.

Jeremy peeked over his shoulder, clearly scouting for Carol. "I hear you have a new girlfriend," his stepfather said in a low voice.

Brandon rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "What did Piper say?"

"That you got involved with someone you shouldn't." Jeremy leaned back, leveling his gaze at Brandon over the rim of his cup. "Your supervisor's daughter? That doesn't sound smart."

"Did she tell my mother?" Brandon sighed before he downed a slug from his cup, hiding his disgust.

"No, and neither did I." Jeremy drummed his fingers on the table. "But, eighteen? That's dangerous territory. It could affect your career if your supervisor finds out."

"Give me some credit." Brandon frowned. "My supervisors are aware of the relationship. Besides, Savannah isn't a child."

"So, it's true?" His stepfather's eyebrows flew upward. "You're having sex with her?"

"She's a grown woman!" Brandon quirked his own brow. "We're not..." _Teenagers._ A half-truth. Though she acted mature, Savannah was five years younger than his age of twenty-three. "It's not an issue."

"So you're not?" Jeremy contemplated him. "Or you'd prefer I shut up about it?"

He sipped his coffee, eyeing the man over his cup. He liked Jeremy, but on occasion, his stepfather crossed boundaries. By the time the man had come into his life, Brandon been an adult. Far too late for fatherly advice, or the role model Brandon wished he'd had during his tumultuous and wild teenage years. Anyway, he suspected his stepfather was too weak and easily domineered to be a good example for anyone.

"Right. Be careful, Brandon. She's a young impressionable girl, not a woman. I'd take exception to a man your age sleeping with my eighteen-year-old daughter." The man emitted a deep sigh. "When are you planning to tell your mother?"

Brandon scoffed. "Since when does a grown man report his relationships to his mother?"

"Coward." A low laugh rumbled from Jeremy. "Keep on Carol's good side if you expect continuing support for your career."

Brandon bit back the retort. Neither Carol nor Jeremy offered much encouragement. His accomplishments were his alone, earned through hard work and the burning desire to escape this oppressive house and small town. The barbecue looked more and more appealing, even with the high probability he'd run into his ex-girlfriend.

Two hours later, Rory arrived at his house, practically dragging him into the car and driving them to the park.

"Brandon!" The boy charged across the grass, hopping up and down, waving a mitt in one hand. "Play ball with me!"

"Hey, Nick. You have an extra one of those?" He pointed at the glove, ruffling the boy's sandy blond hair.

"Yup!" A grin spread across the boy's face as he produced one from behind his back.

"A regular Boy Scout." Brandon followed him to a clear spot in the park, spending the next hour fielding catches and coaching the pre-teen boy on his pitches.

"Time to pack it in. They're serving burgers." A willowy dark-haired young woman intercepted a pass.

Nick cheered. "Are you coming, Brandon?"

"In a minute, buddy. Go check out the selection and save me some of the good stuff."

The boy nodded eagerly and raced toward the food-laden tables.

Autumn's gaze trailed after her younger brother before she shifted her focus to Brandon. "You're great with him. You've been missed." She extended a frosty bottle. "Your reward for being..." A half-shrug said the rest.

"Thanks." Brandon swallowed a mouthful of icy beer, which soothed his throat after the exertion in the heat of late afternoon. "I love that kid. Next time I visit, he'll be a teenager, and far too busy chasing girls to play ball with me."

"Thirteen next month. But I'm not sure about the girls. He's quiet." She tossed the ball into the air, catching it with ease. "How's Philly? Or is it Boston now?"

"Boston. It's good." Brandon offered a faint smile. "How are you?"

"Same as always. Nothing's changed around here," she said as they wandered toward the fire pit. "I hear you're seeing someone."

"Word travels fast."

"It's a small town."

"Mia tell you?" Though he hadn't gotten into the details with anyone but Rory, his sister knew he was dating. At one time, Mia and Autumn had been close.

"Mia never says much to me about your big life in the big city." Autumn caught the end of her braid and twisted it around her finger, fidgeting with the hair band securing the end. "What's her name? And how long?"

"Savannah. I met her in January."

"Savannah," she said in a low melodic voice. The corners of Autumn's mouth quirked down. "Must be a proper southern belle."

He smirked. "She's a West Coast girl from Portland."

"But it's serious? Is that why you chose Boston for residency? Didn't you have an offer closer to home?"

"It's a wise career decision. Savannah has nothing to do with it." Brandon refused to discuss the convoluted situation brewing with his new girlfriend. Especially not with his ex-girlfriend, no matter how long they'd known each other. Besides, he'd set his sights on Mass General during medical school. So, he'd jumped at the offered opportunity to intern at a top hospital. "Anyway, there's nothing positive about living close to home, aside from seeing Mia."

Autumn's eyes grew shiny, and she looked away.

He sucked in a breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean..." He turned toward her. "We ended things before I left, and you know how it is being around my family."

"I get it, Brandon. I just thought... never mind." She shrugged as a faint smile appeared. "You'll be amazing. Dr. Reynolds. That title's kind of trippy. You have a fantastic future ahead." Autumn motioned toward the buffet table. "Better get in there before it's all gone. You have a long flight home."

✯ ✯ ✯

Leaving Montana once again came as a relief. He never managed more than three days in a row before he itched to leave. To return to his reinvented life, far, far away from the negative influences of home.

After a flight delay and the crowded conditions in economy, Brandon couldn't be happier to arrive home. Or, as happy as one could be, given his current living situation.

He entered the apartment, grimacing at the shambles. Dylan's dirty clothing littered the bedroom floor, his unmade bed a tangled mess, and dirty dishes and discarded takeout containers formed a grimy layer over top.

Brandon used one foot to shove it to his roommates side before opening the window. The books spread across his bed landed on the floor with a thump as he gave them an unceremonious push. He eyed the disarray of his covers, groaning at the realization his sheets needed rewashing. He shuddered at the unsavory thought Dylan had been entertaining some girl he'd picked up at the bar. How the guy even managed to entice a girl home, he'd never understand. Any woman with a modicum of sense would sprint away.

One of his dresser drawers hung open. The guy had been stealing clothes. Again. As he closed it, a note tacked to the front of a glossy, medical journal on the top of the dresser caught his eye:

Another present for you. You're def the doctor's pet of this ER.

Dylan never tired of commenting. Even though Will Kavanagh acted as his supervisor, it only took one mention that he planned to earn chief resident, and he'd received valuable tips plus a stream of extra reading.

After years of medical school, he'd become accustomed to exhaustion, so he tucked the journal under his arm and hauled the sheets and duvet off the mattress. He slogged downstairs, cramming them into washing machines with generous doses of detergent, cranking the dial to the hot setting. He glanced at his watch and headed into the street, intent on finding dinner.

The pizza joint a few doors down offered quick and decent fare, so he ordered two slices and opened the medical journal. He'd barely managed three bites before a clatter of plastic against tile made him look up.

The young woman offered him a smile and retrieved a tray from the floor before she continued cleaning the nearby table.

Brandon bit into his second slice of Hawaiian pizza, focusing on the medical terminology, which wasn't easy. The occasional loud clatter, along with the growing feeling of being watched had him sending a covert glance toward the offender.

She looked away, but tipped her chin, a sideways look coming his way as her smile reappeared. Tucking a lock of dark auburn hair behind her ear, she turned to the drink fountain. Moments later, she approached his table. "I thought you might need this." She set the drink in front of him with a napkin tucked underneath. "On the house," her voice dropped to a whisper, "but don't tell my boss."

"Thanks." Brandon looked into wide hazel eyes as another smile twitched at her rosebud pink lips. Definitely cute.

"What are you reading?" Her eyebrows rose. "I'm Naomi."

"Just a medical journal."

"You're a doctor?" Her eyes widened further as she played with her hair.

"A resident." He loved the way the title sounded, even if he hadn't officially changed roles at work. Brandon motioned to the drink. "Thanks, I hope you don't get into trouble."

She gave a small shrug before she spun, hurrying behind the counter as another customer arrived.

Brandon ate the last bite and sipped from the drink. A flash of red caught his eye. A name and phone number written in red ink on the napkin, complete with a tiny heart over the i in Naomi. He glanced toward the counter, but she had her back turned, pouring a soda for her current order. Setting the cup on top of the napkin to hide the writing, he scooped up his journal and made a speedy exit. He didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings, but, his days of collecting phone numbers had come to an end. All he could think about was Savannah.