“Fuck you,” I say with the hint of a grin.
My phone pings, and I pull it out again. It’s not Dr. Mackey, though. It’s my sister, and I shove it back in my pocket.
“What did she say?” Kelsier asks.
“It wasn’t the doc. It was Inga. She wants me to call her.”
“And you’re not going to?”
“Fuck no. She just wants to ask me if I’m bringing someone to her wedding, and if I say no, she’s going to try and set me up with one of her friends.” I pause. “Or she heard about my fight with Lapointe and wants to ream me out. Either way, I’m not calling her.”
“And she’s going to let you ignore her?” he asks.
“Of course not. But that’s a problem for Future Me to deal with.”
Kelsier chuckles. “Future You is gonna be pissed at Past You.”
I roll my eyes. “What else is new?”
My phone pings again, and I swear as I pull it out. “If she thinks-”
I cut off my rant as I see who the text is from.
“It’s the doc,” I say. “She agreed to come to my place Thursday.”
Kelsier claps me on the shoulder. “Congrats, man. You’re on your way to recovery.”
I feel a strange mix of relief and trepidation. I’m relieved Dr. Mackey is on board, but I’m uncertain she’ll be able to help, and if she can’t…
No, I can’t think like that now. Dr. Mackey will fix me.
She has to.
Chapter 5
Gray
I sit in my car in the circular drive of the beach-front, stone-façade house at seven o’clock on Thursday night wondering what the hell I was thinking. When Ash asked me to come to his house rather than the stadium, I wasn’t sure how to take it. I typed, deleted, then re-typed several responses to his invitation, starting with, “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” and somehow ending with, “Okay.”
Other drafts in between included messages like “WTF” or “Should I bring wine?” but I decided not to read into the invitation.
I finally convince myself to stop being a baby and get out of the car to head up to the house. I pause at the front door, hand poised to knock, but I notice the doorbell is one of those high-tech ones that takes video and notifies your phone if someone is outside. Ash likely knows I’m here already. Indeed, just as I’m about to knock, the door swings open.
I’m not prepared for how good the man looks. He’s wearing a forest green Henley with the buttons undone and loose jeans that fit just snuggly enough to show he’s got really nice thighs.
I silently curse myself again for agreeing to this.
“Hey, come on in,” Ash says, opening the door for me to pass.
His mouth quirks up on one side to give me half a smile, and the dimple there makes a brief appearance before ducking back undercover.
I try to smile back, but I’m more convinced than ever this is a bad idea. “Thanks,” I say as I step inside.
I purposely wore black yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt tonight to make myself feel as plain as possible. I considered dressing up to showhim I could be more than a nerdy academic type, but I decided to lean into the dullness to remind myself, and him, why I’m here.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks as he leads me through the foyer of a gorgeous, spacious house. “Water? Coffee? Beer?”
He doesn’t mention wine, so I don’t bother asking.
