Chapter 1

After breaking up with my werewolf boyfriend, my period was a whole month late.

My best friend was convinced I was either accidentally pregnant or had completely wrecked my body from pulling all-nighters.

She practically dragged me to the campus medical clinic—the one with the impossible-to-get appointments.

The doctor sitting behind the desk turned out to be my ex-boyfriend, the one I'd broken up with just a month ago with some pretty harsh words.

His silver-framed glasses couldn't hide the crimson gleam in his eyes.

"Lie down on the examination bed. Pull your pants down and expose your lower abdomen."

When I froze and refused to move, he got up and walked over, trying to forcibly pull down my pants.

"We didn't even finish that last night before we broke up. Whose kid are you carrying?"

I never dreamed the harsh words I'd thrown at him would come back to bite me this fast, in such a humiliating way.

When my best friend Lynn half-dragged me into the campus medical clinic, I was still putting up a dying struggle.

My mind kept replaying that final sentence I'd shouted at Kane a month ago as I stormed out the door:

"Even if an ambulance carries me into the campus hospital, I will never come looking for you, and I won't let you see me ever again!"

Well, now look at me. Not only had I ended up at the clinic, but I'd specifically made an appointment and delivered myself right to his doorstep.

Lynn wouldn't shut up in my ear:

"You should be grateful! I stalked the campus message board for a whole week and traded a concert ticket for this appointment!

Dr. Cullen is the youngest associate professor in the medical school—cold, reserved, and ridiculously handsome. He's been seeing patients for two weeks, and every girl on campus has been crashing the booking system just to get a glimpse of him!"

My head was completely occupied with my missing period. I didn't take her words seriously—I just figured he was some skilled, good-looking doctor.

Until I stood in front of the appointment screen and saw my assigned physician's name printed clearly: "Kane."

My brain crashed. My blood ran cold.

No. It couldn't be this coincidental.

I frantically tried to reassure myself:

There are tons of guys named Kane. It's probably just someone with the same name. It can't actually be him.

But when I pushed open the examination room door and our eyes met, my last shred of hope shattered into dust.

Neat dark brown hair, a crisp white coat that emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

If this wasn't Kane, my ex-boyfriend of one month, who else could it be?

He glanced up at me, his tone completely professional, devoid of any emotion. "Willow? What seems to be the problem?"

Fine. Real fine. One month after our breakup, he could already pretend we were strangers. This level of composure was wasted on anything but acting.

Even though I was the one who'd said those brutal words—words that cut to the bone—

seeing him like this now still made my heart ache and feel blocked up.

After all, what I'd originally said was that unless he was lying in the ER on the brink of death begging for me, he shouldn't expect to see me again in this lifetime.

Now the tables had turned. He sat steady and composed in his examination room,

while I, the one who'd thrown out those harsh words, had obediently delivered myself as his patient. I'd practically slapped my own face swollen.

Lynn, completely oblivious to the frozen atmosphere between Kane and me, grabbed my hand and started talking a mile a minute:

"Dr. Cullen, please help her! She's been so wrong this past month—iced coffee and iced lattes every single day, her emotions exploding at the drop of a hat, breaking out like crazy, and most importantly, her period hasn't come for a whole month!"

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a volume that could still be heard throughout the entire room:

"We're all worried she might be accidentally pregnant! This girl's too stubborn—she absolutely refuses to buy a pregnancy test herself, so I had to drag her here to see you!"

I watched Kane's eyes turn ice-cold, dying of embarrassment on the spot, my toes curling inside my shoes. I wanted to vanish into thin air.

Kane nodded at Lynn. He lowered his head, gripping his pen as he wrote in the medical chart. The pen tip pressed so hard it tore through a layer of paper. Beyond the routine symptom notes, he wrote an extra line:

"Broke up one month ago, delayed period, suspected early pregnancy—moved on without missing a beat?"

My eyes went wide.

This is a medical chart, not your personal complaint journal!

"Do you have a regular partner? Any intimate activity?"

This was standard procedure for diagnosing menstrual irregularities. I was about to say "No, I've been single for a month," but before I could even open my mouth, Lynn jumped in, patting her chest confidently:

"Yes, yes! They have a great relationship! They've just had a little spat these past couple months, but that's normal for couples—it definitely won't affect anything!"