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  Clean Breaks

  Practice Perfect, Book 3

  Ruby Lang

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  More from This Author

  Chapter One

  “Sarah, that guy is looking at you.”

  Sarah Soon, obstetrician/gynecologist, maker of lists, taker of names, kicker of asses, put down her beer and gave her hair a flip.

  “Which guy?”

  “The Asian guy over there. The one with the”— her friend Petra made a cupping motion—“the physique.”

  Sarah turned right around—she didn’t do subtle—and took in a good eyeful of the long body hugged lovingly by a gray t-shirt and jeans. She noted the square chin and cheekbones sharp as a blade, a neat, dark beard, a pair of soulful brown eyes, and a frowning forehead. Those eyes were focused on her. Her gaze went back to the forehead.

  Sarah was all too familiar with the lines of this particular frown.

  “Ohhhhh, shit,” Sarah said, turning back around.

  She wasn’t sure if she was embarrassed for getting caught ogling this particular man, or annoyed. She went with annoyed. Also, she didn’t do embarrassed. Not anymore.

  “What is it?” her other friend, Helen, asked.

  “I know that guy from high school and middle school and . . . the cradle, probably. He’s one of my brother’s best friends.”

  “Were you teen sweethearts?” Helen asked, waggling her brows.

  “Ew. No, we did not go out. We were the only two Asian people in my graduating class—different kinds of Asians at that. My parents are from China, and his are from Taiwan. Not that anyone in town cared. They always assumed that we were a breeding pair even when I was actively dating other people.”

  They had never been very close, but she had appreciated Jake being there. He’d been someone to share a knowing look with across a room or joke with after an exam. But it had turned out that he hadn’t deserved any loyalty from her. She sighed. “He’s coming this way, isn’t he?”

  “I’m afraid he’s already here.”

  That last response came in a deep, quiet voice, and Sarah turned herself around once more, slowly this time, caught in his familiar tones. She nodded resignedly in his general direction without looking. “Hey, Jake,” she said.

  “Sarah.”

  There was a silence that could have been called uncomfortable, but Sarah was very comfortable with it. She supposed she should attempt to be civil, though, so she broke the silence by taking him in full on and noting grudgingly, “I see you got hot.”

  She was satisfied when Jake blushed. He stared down at the bottle of beer in his hand and shuffled his feet. It had always been so easy to get to him.

  Ugh. Boys.

  “Thanks,” he muttered. Then he added, “And you stayed hot, I see.”

  “Oh, uh . . .” She had not expected that. Jake had been a constant presence in her life, but she never thought he’d looked at her. Especially after it turned out that he’d been more a friend to her brother, Winston, who was constantly telling her to get lost and treating her like a pesky younger sister, inferior in intellect, strength, and by her very femaleness. Jake had always been there, calm, never contradicting his friend. She knew where his loyalties lay. She sat up straighter. “Yeah, I did stay hot. Thanks.”

  As an afterthought, she added, “These are my friends, Petra, Helen, and Joanie. We share a practice. Petra’s an allergist. Helen’s a neurologist. Joanie’s our office manager.”

  A few of Jake’s buddies had now slunk closer, looking hopeful.

  “They’re all taken,” Sarah added to the group. “I’m not, though.”

  “Hey, me neither,” said Joanie, waving her hand.

  It was enough of an introduction for a friendly crowd. Pretty soon, Helen and Petra were rolling their eyes at something a white guy named Josh was saying. Joanie was describing her last acting gig to a rapt audience.

  Best of all, with others mingling nearby, Sarah could snag someone else to join the conversation so that she no longer had to chat exclusively with Jake. But, of course, Jake was a lot more polite than she. He always had been. So he stuck with her and exchanged more small talk.

  “So how long have you lived in Portland?” he asked.

  “Hmm, my residency was four years, I’ve been practicing for a little under two, so six years.”

  “And I’ve been here eight. It’s funny we haven’t run into each other before.”

  “Yeah. Funny,” Sarah said. “I guess we don’t travel in the same circles. I’ve been delivering babies and starting up my practice, and I guess you—”

  “I’m a social worker. I work in the public school system.”

  “Right. Uh-huh. Social worker. And how’s the wife? What was her name again?”

  He glanced down at his beer bottle. “Ilse.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Jake’s friend said, crashing into the conversation. “We’re celebrating! Liberty! Justice!”

  Jake shot him a frown.

  “How very American,” Sarah said.

  Jake introduced his friend, and Sarah promptly forgot his name. “No, really! We’re celebrating Jake’s freedom,” said Greg—or was it Gary?—clapping a hand to Jake’s shoulder. “Our friend here just got divorced. But”—he added in a voice that was meant to be discreet— “he’s pretty vulnerable now.”

  Well, well, well. Sarah wondered how the divorce had played with Jake’s dad, the very upright Reverend Li.

  Jake shrugged. Clearly, he did not want to talk about it. But then, he wasn’t the only one who was avoiding touchy subjects tonight. Besides, it wasn’t her business. She had her own things to worry about. Or to not worry about.

  She was out to celebrate, too. After surgery and a sentinel node biopsy, she’d been declared clear of melanoma. It had been a close call, and she was lucky that the cancer hadn’t spread to her lymph nodes.

  She had always been careful. She ran and swam and ate healthy food. She used sunscreen. And she was a physician. The diagnosis of Stage II melanoma had come as a complete shock. She still wasn’t sure she’d quite processed the fact that . . .well, she wasn’t invincible.

  But she was Sarah Soon, ob/gyn, maker of lists, taker of names, kicker of asses, and she had gotten over terrible things before. She always got over them. And she did not give a fuck what Jake Li thought of her.

  She turned to another of Jake’s almost indistinguishable white guy friends. “So, remind me,” she said, “was your name Greg or Gary?”

  • • •
/>   A hangover would have been a nice distraction.

  But Jake Li woke, as always, feeling gloriously healthy, ready, eager to seize the day—and alone.

  The only symptom of last night’s indulgence was the fact that his ears were ringing, but that was possibly due to the overwhelming silence of his new, relatively empty rental house.

  He grabbed a t-shirt and shorts, grunting and thumping around loudly—and perhaps a little self-consciously—because he had to fill the quiet with something. There was no other person sleeping in his bed. There was no reason to be considerate anymore. And while he was glad that he was no longer married to Ilse, being not married was strange.

  He went downstairs and made himself a single cup of coffee.

  The divorce had been relatively quick and painless, as far as these things went. He and his ex had met in college, in a church fellowship group. They didn’t have children. They didn’t have a house to sell. They’d been waiting to have children before buying a home. Or maybe it was the other way around. Ilse had been ready to start all of that—they both may have been ready—until she had fallen in love with someone else.

  But she told him she believed in her vows. She hadn’t acted on her feelings, she said. He was supposed to be grateful for that, but maybe that was worse. The strain and sadness with which she said it: that she wanted to and that she no longer wanted to be with him.

  He couldn’t even really get angry with her. He was a reasonable mental health professional, and when it came down to it, he had changed. He wasn’t the same person who had married her. And when she confessed, he finally admitted to himself that he didn’t have those feelings for her anymore.

  It still stung, of course. It had been hard lying in bed at night next to her, pretending to sleep as she pretended to sleep, wondering if her sleeplessness was because she was thinking of this other person. She wanted to be a good person. He wanted to be a good person.

  He was the one to end it, and after that, everything had been easy.

  “Being a good person is such a load of fucking bullshit,” he said aloud in his empty house.

  “Fucking goddamn asshatting bullcrap,” he added louder because he could.

  And there was no one to say that he couldn’t.

  And yet, as he came back inside following a short morning run, his thoughts strayed to last night—to his old friend? Acquaintance? His half-realized, half-buried crush? To Sarah Soon, who probably would have been amused at his outburst.

  Sarah and her friends had left pretty early, considering. She’d flitted from person to person, making everyone laugh. The one person she hadn’t spoken to much was him. And, well, he didn’t blame her. He’d been best pals with her older brother, Winston. But Jake was the same age as Sarah, so in the past they’d often ended up together. She was opinionated and not afraid of making fun of Winston—or of him. Winston, in particular, burned with rage when he felt like he wasn’t getting his due as the older sibling. Winston had a strong sense of rightness and dignity.

  Jake was surprised, though, how disappointed he was that Sarah and he hadn’t said much beyond their perfunctory catching up and that she hadn’t turned that bright smile on him. The pall of their past—and maybe of Winston’s presence—seemed to hang over them, even though it had been at least a decade since they’d seen each other.

  The other thing that bothered him about last night was the strain on her face. Despite the laughing and teasing, she looked tired and maybe a little too thin. Had he not known her, he probably wouldn’t have been able to tell.

  But he knew her. They had a long acquaintance. And although they hadn’t talked much through high school, they’d found comfort in each other’s presence, maybe because they’d been the only Asian kids in a blindingly white school. Well, there had been some sort of friendship until that last year when she’d been caught with Steve Dixon, who he still hated for reasons he didn’t want to think about. Something was up with Sarah now, though. He couldn’t mistake the fact that her laugh was forced. She held herself more warily than before—wary was not a word that he associated with Sarah Soon. Maybe not warily, he thought. Stiffly. As if she were injured.

  And he had noticed the way her friend Petra watched her like a hawk, half rising in the middle of his conversation with her at one point when Sarah seemed to choke. She’d been faking a cough over something Josh said, it turned out, and the look on Petra’s face—the relief—had been palpable.

  Jake frowned.

  He thought he’d heard all the Sarah news over the years. He’d known she was in Portland and that she was a doctor. He sometimes caught himself scanning crowds for her, wondering if he’d run into her. When his wife—ex-wife—had gone to the hospital for pneumonia, part of him had been waiting and worrying, and a small part of him had been looking out for Sarah Soon. It wasn’t that he liked her a lot, but he’d always looked for her when they’d been growing up. It was a habit. He used to find it reassuring to see her black hair tucked behind her ears, the flash of a row of studs and hoops highlighting the delicate curve. When she was in his class at Laketon High—even though they weren’t always close—he felt not quite as alone.

  And there was the matter of the crush he’d had on her. It was okay to admit it now that high school was in the past. He was still friends with Winston, more out of habit than anything. Jake had stayed in Washington state for college, and Winston had gone to California. Winston was a cosmetic dentist in LA now. And their parents were friends, too. But Sarah never showed up for the holidays, and her rare, brief visits didn’t often coincide with Winston’s, it seemed. It had been a long time.

  Of course, he’d been so preoccupied with the split this year that he could easily imagine he hadn’t registered the news that Sarah was possibly sick. Then again, it was pretty obvious that she hadn’t kept up with his news; otherwise she would have known that he was getting divorced. And it was clear from the arch of her brow that she hadn’t.

  But his marriage was officially over, and he felt—clear. It was as if he’d expected the most terrible thing possible to happen but it hadn’t been so bad. And even though his friend Greg had gone around telling everyone that he was vulnerable, the truth was that he felt pretty good—no, not just good, he felt really fucking great. He felt relieved and lighthearted and free and all of those things that he’d never been allowed to feel for all of his responsible and conscientious life.

  Instead of questioning why he was thinking about Sarah Soon a couple of days after his divorce had been finalized, he decided to call Winston. After all, they still talked from time to time, and he hadn’t phoned in a while. And he was curious. Concerned, maybe.

  “Dude,” Win boomed when he picked up. “Whaddup, bro?”

  Jake winced. “Hey, uh, dude. Long time.”

  “You should come down to LA soon and chill. Hook you up with some ladies, amirite?”

  It was probably as close as Win was going to get to talking about Jake and Ilse’s split, and that was a relief.

  They exchanged brief updates about their lives. Winston had moved to a newer, bigger apartment, and he was fighting with the neighbors about their loud dogs. He was talking about a vacation in Belize—and he hinted that he wouldn’t be going alone. Eventually, when Winston had exhausted his list of things to report, Jake said, “I ran into your sister last night. Is she—is she okay?”

  A pause.

  When Winston didn’t answer, Jake continued. “It’s maybe nothing.”

  “Are you thinking of making a move on her?”

  Jake sighed. “No, man. She looked tired and, I don’t know, fragile. She seemed a little off, Win.”

  Winston sounded reluctant. “I think my mom said she had surgery.”

  “What kind?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Yeah,” Winston said.

  There was another silence.

  “How can you not—and you didn’t come see her, did you?” He was
aware his voice and his exasperation were rising. “Why haven’t you ever come up to see her, Winston? Where are your parents?”

  “She didn’t want them. She told them she was surrounded by doctor friends and it was really minor.”

  “And that was convenient for you and them to believe.”

  “Come on, she didn’t say much. It can’t have been too serious, I mean. And she is a physician. She has that fancy degree. Plus, she was so selfish all her life. Catch me telling my parents they can’t come visit.”

  Then again, Jake couldn’t really blame her for telling her parents not to come. Her parents were competent but not at all comforting. He could see why she might prefer the company of friends who obviously cared for her. “She’s not selfish. She’s the one who was sick. I think she’s allowed to decide who takes care of her. But still—”

  “Well, she’s all right now, isn’t she?”

  Noting the defensiveness and uncertainty in his old friend’s voice, Jake didn’t push it. Sarah was probably all right, that was true.

  Plus, he’d forgotten about the fierce rivalry between the Soon children. Close in age, Sarah had always been a little better at school, a little better at making friends. Winston got straight As; Sarah got them, too, and was valedictorian. She was an athlete—not the best, maybe, but Jake had admired her lithe body as she tensed on the starting block before each race, her pure, flawlessly clear brown eyes surrounded thickly by short lashes, those dark arched brows. And she had a great sunburst of a smile, which with her beautiful, dark hair had given her lots of admirers. Her last year of school had been tough because of the gossip, but he always remembered her as being vivid and smart. She was no weakling.

  Maybe that was why she got away with more than Winston did, or so Winston said.

  But she had left home abruptly right after graduation, and she hardly visited her family. And in a lot of ways, her relationship with Winston and her parents seemed suspended right at that moment that she’d gone.

  Still. She was the Soons’ daughter—Winston’s sister—and they hadn’t visited her when she was sick. That made him a little angry. “Well, Winston, I know you think she’s fine, but I think I’ll check in with her again. For old times’ sake. My dad would never forgive me if I didn’t. Give me her number.”