Chapter Five: Chaos in Scrubs

Ava POV

Gods, I shouldn't have eaten that last croissant.

My stomach was as round as Santa Claus himself, but I couldn't help it. I ate the entire bag in one sitting.

Half from sheer anger at my mom—and sheer will—and the other half because I simply couldn't deny myself. They're just too damn good.

I groaned, shifting on the barstool.

Alex smacked me on the head with a rolled-up magazine.

"If you're not here to buy something or clean, get out of the way, Scrunch."

Ah, another nickname. He hated my "damned ridiculous scrunchies."

A smile crept onto my face.

"You know you love me."

He didn't miss a beat. Just kept polishing a glass with that blue rag, deadpan.

"Move, Ava. I won't repeat myself," he said through clenched teeth. "Again."

Wooo, okay. He was serious.

Damn these Bell boys.

I could see where they got it from.

Rachel.

Miss America in pearls. Perfectly pressed. Flawless.

The kind of woman who probably thanked Harper for bringing order to River's chaos.

She was probably already asking when the wedding was.

I slumped lower in the chair, belly round with buttery regret.

That's when Alex really looked at me.

"He's never going to read your mind, Ava," he said.

Then, after a beat: "And acting out won't get his attention the way you want it to."

Damn. Is everyone my therapist this week?

I didn't realize I was this obvious.

"Lexie, don't tell me how to handle things, m'kay?"

His eyes darkened.

Oops.

I'd used the sacred nickname his mother gave him. The one he despised.

I braced.

Rag. To the face.

He didn't even look. Just tossed it and went right back to wiping the counter like I wasn't even there.

"Start fucking cleaning, Scrunchie. Before I add mopping to your list."

"I'm up, I'm up," I said, stumbling off the stool. "You run a tight ship, Lexie."

"You asked for it, Ava."

He vaulted over the counter in one smooth motion, landing right in front of me with that ridiculous motorcycle magazine raised like a sword.

I squealed and ducked, laughing as I dodged between tables.

He caught me around the waist, lifting me slightly. I kicked and wriggled, breathless, until he started tickling me—merciless, chaotic.

I was mid-laugh, still trying to breathe—

And then something shifted.

The air stilled. Alex's grip loosened.

That's when we saw him.

River.

Standing just inside the doorway.

His expression was unreadable—but something in his eyes flickered.

Anger?

Jealousy?

Alex stopped first.

Face neutral. Hands dropping. All playfulness gone.

"Hey, little brother," he said—too smooth.

He dropped the magazine on the counter like nothing had happened, like I hadn't been laughing in his arms thirty seconds ago.

I stepped back, smoothing my shirt. My pulse was still thudding from laughter—now twisted into something else.

River said nothing at first. Just stood there, rain-soaked, his gray eyes locked on me like I was a crime scene.

Alex grabbed a fresh glass. Started cleaning it like it was the most interesting object on Earth.

"You're early," he said lightly. "I thought you weren't off till seven."

River's gaze didn't budge.

"Got out sooner than expected," he said. Voice calm—but there was a bite.

"Looks like I missed the floor show."

I swallowed.

Alex gave a short laugh, hollow. "You know Ava. Chaos in scrubs."

What the hell was that tone?

Why did he sound like he was covering for something?

River had Harper.

This wasn't fair.

I playfully raised faux fists at Alex. "I was just trying to teach Lexie here a lesson."

Alex shot me a flat look. "Mopping is still on the table, you know."

I gave him a dramatic salute.

"Aye aye, Captain," I said, spinning on my heel.

I made my way toward the supply closet and fumbled with the knob. Pulled the chain light. Flickering, of course.

The mop was in the corner like a punishment waiting to happen.

I bet they thought I couldn't hear them.

But the walls in this place were thinner than secrets.

Outside the Closet:

"What was that?" River asked.

Voice low. Sharp.

"What was what?" Alex's reply was flat. Cold.

I shivered.

God, it was like childhood again—their fights. All tension. No shouting. Just pressure and sharp words and quiet intensity.

I pressed my ear to the wall before I could stop myself.

River didn't back off.

"You know what I mean."

A pause.

Then Alex's shrug—bored on the surface, but his voice didn't match it.

"You don't get to ask that, River."

Oof. That one landed.

Silence pulsed.

This wouldn't end well...

⸻

River POV

He hadn't planned to come to the bar.

Not after the day he'd had.

Not after Emily.

She was three years old.

Probably laughing minutes before. Playing with her sister. Feeling the sun on her face—the first real summer day in June.

Then the pool. The scream. The rush.

Her parents said it happened in slow motion. One second, they looked away. The next, she was gone.

And now she lay on a trauma bed.

Tubes everywhere. Oxygen hissing. Chest still.

We got her back. For a moment. But her lungs wouldn't hold the breath. Not really.

She died.

And when I looked at her, all I could see was Lilia. Elias.

Ava.

And all I could think was—

If God had a grudge to settle, take it out on me.

Not them.

I told the family. I tried. But there's no right way to say it.

"No—no, it's not true," the father said, his face collapsing in on itself.

Broken.

And then the sob. That kind of sound—that animal sound—I've heard it more times than I can count, but it still carves into me like the first time.

My attending told me to go home.

Rest.

Pull it together and come back human.

So I went to the bar.

To see Alex.

To vent.

To yell into a void.

But then I walked in—

And there they were.

Her.

In his arms.

Laughing.

Her head thrown back. The sound I hadn't heard in months ringing off the walls.

And him—my brother—smiling like he owned the place. Like he earned that laugh.

Something inside me twisted. Coiled.

Like the air had been sucked out of the room and I was standing there, drowning.

What the hell was this?

That should be me.

That should be me holding her.

That should be me making her laugh.

"You're early," Alex said lightly. "Thought you weren't off till seven."

I didn't take my eyes off Ava.

"Got out sooner than expected," I said. My voice was calm, but the bite came through anyway.

"Looks like I missed the floor show."

Why does she do this to me?

Every time.

She unravels me.

And this moment is no different.

Ava swallowed.

Alex gave a short, hollow laugh. "You know Ava. Chaos in scrubs."

She raised faux fists at him. "I was just trying to teach Lexie here a lesson."

He shot her a flat look. "Mopping is still on the table, you know."

She gave him a dramatic salute.

"Aye aye, Captain," she said, spinning on her heel.

Ha.

Had they always been this close?

I mean... sure. When Ava and I were inseparable, she'd come around a lot. So maybe—

But it's not serious.

Right?

I watched her until she disappeared behind the corner.

Then:

"What was that?" I asked.

"What was what?" Alex said. Cold. Dismissive.

He's usually more direct.

More confrontational.

Am I imagining this?

Am I taking it too far?

No.

Not if he's pursuing her.

I swallowed. Hard.

Or if she's letting him.

"You know what I mean."

A pause.

Then a shrug. Bored on the surface, but his voice didn't match it.

"You don't get to ask that, River."

That's fair.

I shouldn't be asking.

She doesn't want to be with me.

She said as much.

But still—

I had to know.

The silence stretched, heavy and hot.

"Are you—"

Alex cut me off with a laugh. Dry. Dangerous.

"Ava's like a sister to me," he said. "She almost was—until... everything."

My ears burned.

The only part of me I couldn't hide.

I was suddenly grateful Harper had convinced me to grow out my hair.

It covered the red.

"I'm sorry," I said. "For assuming."

Alex looked at me then. Brother to brother. Cool and assessing.

"It shouldn't matter if I was, right?"

My breath caught.

He wasn't wrong.

"You have Harper."

Yeah.

I did have Harper.

⸻

Ava POV

I'd been listening from the supply closet like some nosy ghost.

The light above me buzzed. The mop handle dug into my side. I hadn't moved.

I wasn't even sure I'd been breathing.

"You have Harper," Alex said.

It hit harder than I expected.

Not because of the words.

But the tone.

Sharp. Cold.

Like he meant to end the conversation with it—and maybe something else, too.

I pressed a palm to my chest.

Right where it stung.

What the hell was I even doing?

Eavesdropping like a high schooler.

Hiding behind old tension and expired feelings.

Acting like I didn't already know how this ended.

Because I did.

I always did.

He had Harper.

And I was still just the girl who couldn't stop looking back.

And Rachel—

God, that lunch still echoed in my chest. The weight of it. The way her words carved me open in silk.

But they didn't know.

Neither of them knew.

I stepped out into the room like I hadn't heard a damn thing.

Alex looked up first—stone-faced, still polishing a glass like it had personally offended him.

River turned slowly. His eyes locked on me. Still. Heavy. Quietly unraveling.

I cleared my throat, forcing something casual into my voice.

"I gotta pick up the kids."

Alex gave the smallest nod. No expression.

"Sorry, rain check on the mopping. And..."

My gaze flicked to River.

"...Bye, River."

He didn't speak.

Didn't nod.

Just looked at me like I was already a memory.

I turned and walked out, the bell above the door chiming behind me.

The rain caught me instantly—cold, hard, everywhere at once.

I didn't run.

I didn't hide.

I just kept walking.

The ache in my chest didn't fade.

Because sometimes, leaving was the only thing I was still good at.

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