Rain hit the pavement in heavy, steady sheets, and the wind was starting to bite. You pulled your coat tighter and checked your watch again. Bus — late. Typical.

Your jaw clenched. After the shift you just had, soaked scrubs and aching feet were the least of your problems.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia,” a clipped voice said behind you.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Addison Montgomery. Wearing boots that probably cost more than your rent, holding a sleek black umbrella, and glaring like she had a right to be mad.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, refusing to face her.

“I wasn’t offering medical advice,” she said, stepping closer. “I just think you standing out here like a drenched statue is idiotic.”

You turned to her slowly. “Why are you even out here?”

“Because,” she said, sharp and tired, “I saw you from the window and figured I should at least make sure you didn’t get hit by lightning.”

“Oh,” you scoffed. “That’s sweet. Coming from the woman who can’t speak to me without snarling.”

She bristled. “Maybe if you hadn’t slept with my husband—”

“I didn’t know he was your husband!” you shouted, stepping forward, water splashing up your calves. “How many times do I have to say that?”

“He had a ring!”

“I thought he was divorced!”

“And you didn’t think to ask?”

The thunder cracked over both of you, echoing your fury.

You shook your head and laughed bitterly. “You know what? I’m not doing this. Go back inside to your perfect, superior little tower and leave me the hell alone.”

You stepped off the curb, blind to the rain, blind to the lights coming around the corner—

You didn’t even hear Addison’s scream.

Not until the horn blared. Not until brakes shrieked.

Not until it was too late.