Gathering the dice, I threw them into the cup, shook them until I felt they were mixed enough, and dumped them on the table.

Looking at the five little boxed ivories with black dots and then my sheet and seeing I still needed a straight, I slid the two, three, and number four dice to the side, gathered the other two dice, and dropped them in the cup, and shook them up, hoping for a one and five or a five and six.

"You better cross your fingers you get what you need. Your grandmother and I are whooping your ass," Peter quipped, smiling wide and chuckling at my not doing so well this round.

"I can't win then all," I returned, dumping the dice on the table, getting a two and three.

Peter laughed. "Try again, shithead. Have I ever told you, you suck at playing Yahtzee?"

"All the time," I grinned. "Grandma's been kicking my ass at Yahtzee since I was a kid," I said, still shaking the dice.

Every other Sunday, my sisters and I play Yahtzee with my grandmother and her friend Peter.

Shayla and Mariah are like me—we suck. But we also don't try very hard. We like seeing our grandmother smile and love how thrilled she becomes when she wins the game—especially against Peter. They're very competitive with each other.

Playing with Peter, though, that's a different story. He's like a master wizard who gets whatever number he needs—almost every time. It drives my grandmother up the wall. And it always cracks my sisters and me up.

"Would you like to bet that you won't get the numbers you need to get that large straight you're seeking?"

While shaking the dice, I eyed Peter. "What would you like to bet?"

"Would allowing me to have sex with your grandma be a good choice?"

I grimaced at his remark.

"Gross!" Shayla exclaimed. "Grandma! What's wrong with him?"

I laughed at Shayla. If she only knew how crazy these two were together when my sisters weren't around them, she'd really be scarred for life.

So, to tease her and see her cringe, I leaned to her, grinning as I said, "You should've heard these two like a month ago when I brought them to bingo. Peter was talking about grandma having a smoking hot body, that if he won, she'd allow him to kiss her, and he offered to make her feel young again... if you know what I mean."

She grimaced, squealing, "Ewe!"

I busted a gut, laughing, as I sat back in my chair. "Tell me about it. I had to endure listening to them talking about it."

"So, did you get what you wanted?" Mariah, my no care in the world sister, asked the two old lovebirds, who claimed they weren't in love.

But I know better. Every time Peter enters the room, my grandmother's face lights up. And I love that she does, especially since she's living in the nursing home, and my sisters and I can't be with her twenty-four-seven.

Peter's lips quickly curled upward. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"No thanks. Let's get back to the game, shall we?" Shayla insisted, looking at me. "Get your straight so we can move on."

I returned to shaking the dice, and as I dumped them on the table, my grandma pretended to use her fingers like a magician would, trying to act like Peter, and said, "Give my grandson something to cry about."

What the heck? Like I'd cry... especially over a game of Yahtzee.

"Thanks, Grandma. I see what you think of me," I teased, smiling while looking at the two dice that went in my favor instead of my grandmother's. "You need to work on your magical fingers; you gave me just what I needed. A one and a five."

"Son of a doggity-dog," Peter whined, whipping his hand down in disgust. He looked at my grandma and tsked her. "I need to teach you how to better put a hex on him. Because you suck at it."

"Yeah, well, you suck at knowing when to shut your trap."

My sisters cracked up, and I shook my head. These two are something else.

I pushed the cup and dice to Mariah and said, "Good luck getting the Yahtzee you need with Peter sitting beside you."

"He doesn't scare me."

Mariah shoved the dice in the cup, shook them up, and then, as she dumped them onto the table, she shouted, "Yahtzee!"

I looked at her dice and laughed. "Close, but no cigar."

"I'll get it this time. All I need is one."

"If she gets a Yahtzee, I'll put a hex on her," Peter quipped. "You know I would, too," he grinned.

Mariah looked at Peter, saying, "If I get a Yahtzee, I want to see you kiss my grandma."

"Ewe! Mariah! Why are you encouraging him to make me sick? Nobody wants to see that!"

"I do," Mariah laughed.

Peter's eyes lit up, and his smile radiantly beamed as he looked at our grandmother. "I like your granddaughter. She always seems to have my best interest at heart."

"Mariah's a good kid—just like Shayla is. And what I absolutely love is Mariah's eight years younger than Aaron, and she's following in her sister's footsteps instead of her brother's. Shayla is two years younger than Aaron and is already married with kids. And they both have wonderful jobs."

Say what?

Mariah manages a coffee house and Shayla's a psychologist. Which they both have great jobs, but the fact is, I still make more money than my sisters.

"What are you talking about? I've got a great job and make way more money than them!" I exclaimed, defending myself.

Grandma rolled her eyes like I said something foolish. "If you call changing the way people look and giving women tits, they don't need and lips that'll look like a swollen, shaved vagina later in life a wonderful job, then you need your head examined."

Christ.

I've told her I don't know how many times that I do way more than she thinks I do.

She pointed at me while looking at Peter. "I can't get this turd for a brain to find a woman he'd be proud to wake up to every morning to save my life—he's too busy looking for women that'll give him a piece of ass for the night instead of looking for someone to love and call his." She shook her head. "I thought his parents taught him better than that—I thought I did too when I took over raising him."

For fuck's sake.

Shayla and Mariah looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

Peter looked at my grandma and said, "There's nothing wrong with getting a piece of ass when you want or need it." He wiggled his bushy brows. "How about you say we call it a game, and you and I head to my room where I can stuff your muffin?"

Okay, I think we're done here.

Shayla looks like she's about to be sick, and I'm about ready to blow a gasket, and I don't want to do that in front of the woman I look up to, and Mariah? She looks like she's enjoying all of this a bit too much.

My grandmother looked at Shayla and said, "Do me a favor and talk to your brother. Maybe you can get him to see things I can't make him see."

"Nobody needs to talk me into seeing anything," I sighed, wishing she'd stop pressuring me into something that hadn't been on my mind since I was in the ninth grade. "I'm not the only guy in the world who hasn't felt he needed a significant other to get through the day."

"True," Mariah said, relieving me, but only briefly. "But we can all thank that one girl who broke his heart, making him the person he is today." She looked at me, asking, "What was her name again?"

"Sloane," I quietly groaned, then remembered how I saw and talked with her last weekend. "I'm surprised you remember that. You were only like seven then."

"People's hearts are broken all the time. That shouldn't have mattered. All he needed to do was move on like everyone else does," my grandmother hissed.

Easy for her to say. I was utterly and madly in love with Sloane.

"Have you ever seen or heard from her since high school?" Shayla asked.

My eyes closed for a hot second, wishing my sisters would've forgotten about Sloane.

"Unfortunately, I saw her for the first time since graduation last Saturday night," I admitted since she asked, and I didn't want to lie or be a dick about it in front of our grandmother.

Shayla's eyes grew wide. "Really? Did you guys talk? Where did you see her? Last I heard, she moved out of state."

Staring at my sheet, I nodded and responded, "She did, but apparently, she moved back a few months ago. As for talking to her, we spoke for a few minutes, and that was it." Looking up, I begged, "Can we get back to playing and finishing this game? I've got some things I need to take care of," I lied.

"What did you guys talk about?" Mariah asked, looking interested to hear what was said. 

"Is she still the same stunning, beautiful girl she was when you went to school with her?" Shayla asked.

Thinking about that night, I remembered everything about how she looked. Her hair was still brunette and long, but not down to her ass like it was before. Her figure had changed—much curvier than she used to be. But what really changed about her was her face—lots of scars—around her eyes, cheeks, forehead, nose, and chin.

I wanted to ask more of what happened to her, but felt it was none of my business. Especially when she told me she didn't go there to discuss what happened to her or her face.

Sloane looked broken and extremely depressed. Surprisingly, after despising her for as long as I have and not caring to know anything about her like I once used to, I was instantly strangely affected by it—I actually felt sorry for her.

I hate to admit this, but she's still as gorgeous as ever—even as broken as she is.

"Aaron?" Shayla said, breaking me from my thoughts. "Does she still look the same?"

"No," I firmly said, then nicely expressed, "but she's still as beautiful as she was then."

"Where did you see her?" Mariah asked.

"It doesn't matter," I said, shaking my head, not wanting to think about or talk about her. "Now, can we get back to playing our game?"

"Come on, Aaron, talk to us. Was she rude, or was she at least nice to you?"

I was the rude one.

Sloane was actually being nice while begging for my forgiveness.

"Put it this way. She apologized and asked for my forgiveness."

Shayla lifted a curious brow. "Did you?"

"I told her I'd think about it after she told me it wasn't her who sent me all of those disgusting gifts."

"I think you should," Mariah suggested, "Kids grow up and change to be decent human beings, Aaron."

I snapped my head Mariah's way, saying, "Yeah, they do. But after twenty years of not seeing or hearing from her, I won't just say okay, you're forgiven. Let's go right back to where we were before you tore me apart."

"It doesn't matter who she used to be. What matters now is who she's become today," Shayla said, using what she does for a living on me.

What my grandmother said next made me think—wondering about Sloane's scars and if what happened to her was the reason why she wanted to apologize and ask for my forgiveness.

"Aaron, listen to me. There are two reasons why a person will change. Either their mind had opened, or their heart was broken. Think about it. Life is about finding happiness, learning from the past, looking to the future, and realizing everything changes—including people."

***

"So, can you do this for me?" Annette, a new patient who'd like a tummy tuck and liposuction, wondered. And what I'm about to explain to her next, she won't like.

I closed her file, set it down, and then folded my hands on top of it as I looked at Annette.

"I'm sure you already know this since I'm the fifth plastic surgeon you've come to see, but combining tummy tuck and liposuction can get the best of both procedures at once. However, a full tummy tuck with liposuction simultaneously will put you at a high risk of fluid arising under the tummy tuck skin—called seroma, an abnormal accumulation of serous fluid that arises in dead space containing plasma and lymphatic fluid. With your medical history and your reaction to anesthesia, there is zero possibility I can perform what you're asking me to do. I'm sorry."

Tears filled her eyes, and she slowly nodded. "Don't be sorry. It's what I expected you to say."

"There's no way a doctor will perform this on you. Not unless he or she wishes to be sued by one of your family members and risk losing their medical license, shall something go wrong."

"I know," she quietly agreed. "I was just hoping to find someone who felt they could do it with my history. There always seems to be someone who believes they could do something others can't."

"Under different circumstances, that can be true, but in this instance with you, it's improbable."

A hint of a smirk appeared on her lips. "My friends say I should seek a doctor in Mexico."

My eyes widened, and I shook my head, saying, "Please, don't do that. It's not worth it. I'm telling you, this particular procedure could kill you. Any procedure where you have to go under will. You're fortunate to be here today after going in distress when your tonsils were removed."

"I know. It's what everyone keeps telling me." She stood, sliding her purse strap up her arm and over her shoulder. "Thank you for at least seeing me. I'm sorry to have taken up your time."

"Don't be sorry, you didn't take up my time. You're not the first person I had to decline." I stood, rounded my desk, and walked with her to my door. I offered her my hand, and when her hand enclosed around mine and she shook it, I said, "Take care, Annette, have a good rest of the day."

Since I had some time until my next patient arrived, I returned to my desk and stared at my computer screen, contemplating doing some internet searching on Sloane to see if I could find any information about what had happened to her.

Since running into Sloane, I hadn't thought once about forgiving her. But after something, my grandmother said the other day, it's made me curious about what could've happened to her and if that made her move back and find me to apologize.

As I turned on the computer, Darcy knocked and opened the door.

"I thought my next appointment wasn't for another fifteen minutes," I said, turning the computer off.

"It's not your appointment. But there is someone here who asked to see you. Should I tell her you're busy and to make an appointment? Or should I send her your way?"

"Who is it? What does she need?"

Darcy shrugged. "I have no idea. She said it was important and that she wouldn't leave until you saw her."

Great.

Well, it can't be someone here claiming I'm the father of their child. I ensure a condom is used every time and that they're on some sort of birth control before I do anything with them. And before tossing the condom, I made sure the condom didn't break.

So it can't be that.

"Is it a cop or someone I don't want here poking their nose around?"

She laughed. "No. My guess is she's here to speak to you about having you do some reconstructive surgery."

"Set her up for an appointment, then."

"But she says she won't leave until she's seen."

"Explain to her that I'm busy and that if she wants to see me, she'll have to wait until the next opening."

"Okay..." Darcy said, doubt in her tone that the woman would wait until she could be seen.

I looked at the time. "If my next consultation appointment arrives like most other patients, she should be here any second. If she's already here, send her my way. I'm ready for her."

Searching for information about Sloane can wait. I just thought I'd do some quick digging to see what I could find on her while waiting for my next patient.

Five minutes later, Darcy was back in my office, informing me the patient had called to reschedule for personal reasons and wondered if she could send in the other woman who was adamant about seeing me today.

"Sure. What the hell, might as well bring her in."

Darcy returned to my office, and when the woman entered behind my employee, my heart stilled, and I froze in my seat.

"Doctor Rhodes, this is—"

"Sloane," I said before Darcy could finish.

I wonder who the S.O.B. was that told Sloane where to find me? Rory? Callum? Hudson? Because they seemed to be the ones pushing me to talk to her.

I'll kill'em.

The last thing I need is for her to hound me at my work like she is now.

Darcy looked from me to Sloane and then returned her eyes to me. "You two know each other, I see."

"We went to high school together," Sloane quietly told Darcy, her gaze on me.

She appeared agitated and nervous and very oddly wearing a long-sleeved shirt for the ninety-degree weather we're having today.

I hesitantly extended my hand, offering her the open chair in front of my desk. "Take a seat."

I should've asked Darcy when she was in here the first time, telling me there was a woman here to see me what her name was. I didn't think I had to. I just assumed it was a very eager patient looking to see me immediately without waiting for weeks to get in, as had happened in the past.

I shot my eyes at Darcy after Sloane sat, asking, "How long do I have until my next appointment?"

"About thirty minutes."

I looked at Sloane and said, "You have about fifteen to twenty minutes to say what you need to say," I stated firmly.

Darcy's eyes grew wide when she noticed my tone, and before she bolted out of my office, she said, "Ah, I'll leave you two alone."

When the door closed, I said, "Was it necessary to give my employee a hard time about not leaving my office until I saw you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if I didn't tell her that, I knew I'd chicken out coming here again like I have been doing these last couple of months."

Huh?

My brows pinched together, confused by her statement. Last couple of months? "Excuse me? You've known where I've been since before last weekend?"

She nodded.

"I found you on the internet. At first, when I saw your picture come up, I wasn't sure if it was you—you looked much different. But every day, the more and more I studied what I found, I realized it was you from your smile and eyes. Then I'd drive by or park in the lot, and when I thought about stopping in or was about to get out of my car, I'd chicken out and leave."

"Stalking me, are you?" I wondered, heavily gazing into her eyes, looking for any signs of a lie now that we're in brighter lighting than last weekend.

She shook her head.

"Then why are you here, Sloane?"

She looked down at her shaking hands. "Because I'm desperate," she answered nervously.

"For?"

"For you to forgive me."

"That happened so long ago. Why are you so determined to apologize to me now when you could've asked for my forgiveness way back when?"

She looked up, saying, "I wanted to apologize back then, but felt I had done way too much damage that you wouldn't give me a chance to."

"And you think that's changed?"

"No. But I can't live like I have been, knowing I never apologized for hurting you."

"Again, I'm going to ask why it's so important for me to accept your apology after all this time?"

Sloane looked away from me and over at the wall. She stared at it momentarily and then quietly said, "I was sorrowful all through high school about what I did and said to you and how I did what I did in front of everyone that since leaving town, I've been miserable. And every day since, the more depressed I became. I hated myself and still do." She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes. "I've tried ending my life so many times I can't even count how many times I tried."

It suddenly felt like someone punched me in the gut, and I couldn't breathe. I didn't know what to say or how to react to what Sloane was sharing with me because she said something similar the other night of the party.

My grandmother's words returned to my mind—either her mind opened, or her heart was broken.

I noticed she seemed broken and down last weekend, and I didn't want to send her out of here in tears if it was because of me.

Shayla's right. We were kids. People change—some for the better and some for the worse.

Sloane obviously hasn't been able to move on from high school. That much is clear. And for her to seek after me last weekend and today, says she needs to hear me accept her apology so she can move on.

Now, it makes me even more curious to learn what happened to her face and about her mental health she just told me about—again. But I don't feel this is the place to discuss what's going on with her.

I reached across my desk, grabbed my business card, and wrote my cellphone number on it.

Looking up, I said, "I'm sorry to hear you felt your life wasn't worth living for you to do what you did, especially if it was because of me."

"I never wanted to do what I tried doing, but I also felt I didn't know how to live knowing what a shitty person I was to someone I cared deeply about for no reason, that I felt it was my only option to do. I ruined you and others because of my behavior," she claimed, tears slipping from her eyes and slowly trickling down her cheeks.

I looked at the business card I held in my hand. I can't believe I'm about to do this, but Sloane obviously needs someone to talk to, and she came to me for that. I can't be a dick to her like I was the other night. Not with how gloomy she appears to be.

It's apparent something is going on, and she wants to talk to me about whatever is happening.

Even though I always said I never wanted to see or talk to her again, a voice inside me told me to lend her an ear. So, that's what I'll do.

I held my card out for her to take and said, "I have a patient to see in a few minutes. How about you give me a call later? If you're up to it, we can meet somewhere to talk. Would that be alright with you?"

She took the card, looked at it, then at me with a questionable look.

"It's my number. Don't worry. It's not a bullshit phone number I'm trying to give you to push you away."

"So you'll talk to me?"

"Absolutely." Again, I can't tell her no.

I never could.

"Thanks, Aaron. You have no idea how much this means to me."

In a way, I do.

Especially after hearing some of the stories my sister has told me about some of her patients—using fake names, of course.

My sister may be the person she may need to talk to, but before suggesting to her to see my sister, I need to hear her out and see if Shayla is who she needs to see.

"You're welcome."

I noticed her lips wanting to move—like she wasn't sure if she should smile, bite her lip, cry, or frown. "Does this mean you're forgiving me?" she asked as I stood.

We're not kids anymore. We're grown adults, and I need to learn how to quit holding a grudge. So, answering her, I nodded once and said, "You're forgiven." I held up my finger. "As long as you're being truthful to me."

She smiled, and when she did, a funny feeling hit my chest that my hand flew to it, and I rubbed the area that made it feel weird.

Just as I opened the door to let her out, she faced me. Then her arms flew around me, and she rested her cheek on my chest while her arms tightened around me. "Thank you so much, Aaron," she whispered.

I surprised myself when my arms finally decided to return the embrace. And if I were to be honest, if anyone asked, it felt fucking good to be holding Sloane in my arms again.

Years ago, I lived for this moment every night before she'd go home.

Holding her felt really fucking good that after she let go of me and I watched her walk down the hallway, I slapped myself—twice. Once on each side of my face.

I was seconds away from telling her not to leave.

And when I caught myself getting ready to follow her, to beg her to stay and wait for me to finish work, I slapped myself again and hurriedly shut the door.

Seeing her again just made me realize I never got over loving her.

Now it has me wondering, is that why I've refused to move on and find another woman to fall in love with?

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!