It was Saturday. Which meant I was home early from clinic, and almost immediately in the shower. And when I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling as fresh as a daisy, it was a little over three in the afternoon.

Niall had left for Portland in the morning, for what he assured me was his business matters, so I had the whole house to myself. I plopped down on the couch and sighed inwardly. I was missing my usual stillness of mind.

Since the dinner last week, I hadn't heard from Maeve, nor did I care to call Michael.

He and I have some real shit to talk about.

Chloe on the other hand, after learning about Michael and Maeve's past, was not ready to talk to anyone at all, having shut her bedroom door for good. Mom even told me she heard some weird shrieks and crashing noises from her room. Chloe was clearly embarrassed that everyone —including Maeve— had seen, or at least knew about her passionate stunt out in the hallway last week. And as much as I was struggling to digest the fact, she was a grown ass woman now, and I couldn't interfere into her personal life anymore.

Even if that personal life included my best friend.

The thought stirred and tickled an uncomfortable part deep inside me.

Michael and Chloe? It didn't quite sit right. I always thought Michael saw her as a little sister. Or maybe he just saw her as my little sister. But I'd never noticed or even saw a hint of anything of that sort in Michael's eyes for Chloe. Maybe I was forgetting how good he was at hiding his emotions.

Could it have been...? No.

I shuddered at the possibilities of Chloe forcing herself over Michael.

But that didn't change the fact that I was her brother, and looking after her was just as important part of my responsibilities, as it was to listen to her ranting about anything else.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. There was something I had to do about this whole situation or I would lose my cool.

And Ian without his cool was...well, not cool.

I took out my phone, and slid into texts. If Chloe didn't get out of that room, she was going to develop anxiety (that was, if she hasn't already).

: Hey! What you up to today?

I stared blankly at the screen for a good moment. She was probably busy, crying and breaking Mom's porcelain ceramics. Or maybe she'd broken her phone too.

A few minutes passed with my empty stares directed at the black phone screen. No reply.

Again, I least expected her to reply. So, I got up from the couch and tottered into my room. I threw on whatever I found first in the closet; a navy shirt and black jeans. This had to do.

I rolled up my sleeves, and just when I picked up my keys to go and drag Chloe out of her room myself, the phone buzzed in my hand. It was her.

: Nothing.

I frowned. Even through the text, I could tell she was feeling run down. Chloe was anything but a dull texter.

What did Michael do to my sister?

: Wanna get out? I do. Please don't say no :(

: What do you wanna do?

A little hope weighed on my shoulder.

: What do you suggest we do? Ice skating? Shopping? Hiking?

: You sound so old fashioned. What about clubbing?

Oh?

: Ok. You choose the place. Pick you up at 7:) Wear something that'll not require me to punch any faces. Please, and thank you.

: You shouldn't have mentioned XOXO. Text you the address later.

When I kept the phone down, a smile stretched across my face. At least she agreed to come out of that damn room. And I might be able to guess why clubbing.

I got drunk too on the night I found out about Olivia. And as nasty as the hangover was on the next day, it helped me keep my mind off of the thoughts of my shattered relationship.

Twisted times required twisted solutions.

As I began putting the phone aside, I was tempted to call Maeve. Again. Not call again. Tempted again. I was tempted for the entire week. Let's say I did call her, what was I even supposed to tell her then?

Sorry for what happened between my sister and your ex-husband, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again?

Rubbish. Utter rubbish. As much as I hated to admit it, Michael and Chloe were two independent individuals, with a well-functioning brain, and according to my knowledge, old enough to know what was wrong and right for them. Though, I could understand Maeve being upset over her new friend kissing her ex-husband. She was probably feeling as shitty as Chloe...or me, when I had come across my girlfriend's half naked photo, on the beach, with another guy.

My finger hovered over Maeve's name, displayed in the same text as other contacts, but still somehow standing out in my vision.

I shouldn't. I am her doctor...

I groaned inwardly and shut the screen, sliding the phone back into my pocket. Maeve's face flashed before my eyes as I buried my face in my hands. Deep brown eyes turning golden under the influence of the sun. Pale, flawless skin taunting, teasing the eyes. I could even picture her in place of Olivia, on that beach, but with me.

It was no use lying to myself now. I was attracted to Maeve.

Attracted to your best friends Ex-wife. The words rang into my ears like a universal fact...or a potential warning.

As I stood to change back into my pj's, my phone went off, a vibration traveling through my thigh, right up my body.

Maeve...

Biting the inside of my cheeks, I hastily took out my phone, but when I saw the caller ID, the grin faded off my face. Blood rushed to my ears and I contemplated switching it off, but went against it.

"Hello?"

"Ian." Michael croaked out. He sounded as distressed as my sister did through the text, but I did not feel half the sympathy towards him as I felt for her. "I need to talk to you."

Me too.

"About what?" I was not expecting his call, least him directly jumping to the point. But again, who was I kidding? Michael didn't beat around the bush.

He clicked his tongue, as if annoyed, or perplexed. "You know about what."

I held back a scoff, eyebrows arching, as I rubbed my temple. The exchange of expressions was somehow funny, and reversed. Remind me who was supposed to be annoyed?

"I don't, Michael. In fact, there are quite a lot of things we have to talk about. Shall we begin on 'What the fuck is going on between you and my sister'?" I snapped, a nerve or two knotting under my jaws against the pressure of my gritting teeth.

There was a long pause. And the atmosphere shifted around me, as if Michael was standing before me, in the same room. I could imagine his confused frown which was most probably twisting his face right now. And when he finally spoke, I felt something I didn't feel in a long time...

"There is nothing going on. Whatever happened wasn't supposed to happen." He said, his voice suggesting we were talking about a sudden change in weather, rather than my sister.

Anger...

I realized the growing agitation, and did my best to grind it down to the dark pit where it came from. Anger didn't solve problems, it intensified them.

"So, what does it mean, my sister forced herself on you?" I could taste the bitterness of that sentence at the tip of my tongue. Chloe would never, would she? I imagined the scenario, if she really did, but it did nothing to push away the anger.

There was a pause again.

"No..." He said, and then went silent.

I knew she wouldn't.

"Who initiated it?" Before I could stop myself, the words were out of my mouth. A part of me felt ridiculous for asking that, but another part of me —the sensible part— was malfunctioning at the moment.

Michael didn't answer, and my jaws tensed in response to the deadly silence. I liked silence, but not this one.

"Who initiated that kiss, Michael?" I raised my voice, hoping he'd hear it more clearly if he hadn't already.

He exhaled a long breath, something between relief and defeat. "I did."

He did.

Something snapped inside me. Something very unpleasant. Rational thoughts flew out through my ears and fury stirred behind my eyes. There was only one fact.

He kissed her.

Michael cleared his throat. "But I did not mean to-"

"And did you say 'There's nothing going on'?" I couldn't believe it. I knew him for years. Hell, we grew up in the same house, and not once did I ever had this urge to punch him across the face(not playfully), which I was having right now. "What the fuck do you take my sister for?"

"Ian, listen to me-"

"No, you listen. I can understand whatever happened in the past few days were hard on you, but I will not bear that as an excuse for you to fool around with my sister. Do you understand?"

"Ian—"

"Michael Black," My voice fell unwillingly, against my will, and I strained out the next words. "Stay. Away. From my sister."

Before he could justify further, or point out how I was probably overreacting, I hung up and tossed the phone aside.

I was wrong about not interfering. This matter needed my interference, with my sister and best friend involved. But something deep inside me waved a red flag, warning that it wasn't over yet.