My stomach drops. “But I’ll be okay in a week or two, right?”
He gives me a look as he drops to his stool and scoots closer. Something in the way he folds his hands tells me I’m not gonna like what’s coming.
“Nurse Talia said you’re a dancer?”
I nod, warily.
“Then that tells me you’re stubborn.” His tone sharpens. “I need you to channel that into healing. Not pushing through pain or ignoring advice. Be stubborn like a donkey, not an ass.”
“Charming,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes. “Alright, Doc Gruff… what’s your advice?”
“For the concussion, no screens for the next twenty-four hours. That means no TV. No phone. You’ll survive. People did it all the time in the nineties.”
I gape at the sheer audacity of his arrogance. “I’m perfectly capable of surviving without screens.”
The corners of his mouth almost—almost—lift.
“No driving. No alcohol. Tylenol only for pain. Nothing that could worsen the bleeding risk.”
“And the ankle?”
“Crutches. No weight-bearing for at least three, probably four weeks. I could write you a referral for physical therapy, but since you’re out of state, it’s best you follow up with your primary care physician once you get home.”
I groan.
“If you push it, you’ll risk permanent damage,” he says flatly. “And I will personally make sure you regret it.”
His eyes lock on mine, and for a moment—just a moment—the air thins.
There it is again. That thing I can’t name. The one that makes my heart trip and my spine straighten. Like I’ve been noticed by someone who doesn’t miss much.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lucy
I shift on Stella’s couch, trying to get comfortable, but between the thousand pillows propping me up and the monstrous boot on my ankle, I’m one wrong move from full-on implosion. The air smells like vanilla and bergamot thanks to Stella’s candle obsession, but even that can’t drown out the pain, or the jagged stab of panic every time I remember what’s at stake.
My phone buzzes again from the end table. I don’t have to look.
It’s either Mom or Terrence, my agent.
I promised them both I’d let them know when I arrived in Stillwater Bay.
I ignore it. Again.
“I still can’t believe this,” Stella mutters. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through thestack of hospital discharge papers like they might bite her. Her brows pinch and she flips her straight, black hair over her shoulder to meet my eyes. “It’s yourrightfoot, Lou. That’s gonna make driving hard.”
I grimace adjusting a pillow that has no interest in helping me rather than face the implications of that statement.
“When you didn’t show, I figured you stopped for snacks or got caught up chatting with Simon and Violet at Holiday’s,” Gabby chimes in from the armchair. “But I mean…” She trails off, azure eyes wide. “It didn’t even cross my mind that we’d be picking you up from the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. It comes out croaky and unconvincing. “Coulda been much worse.”
Though I don’t see how.
But if I keep saying it, maybe it’ll become true.
“Do you want anything?” Stella asks, already halfway to standing. “Water? Another blanket? Pillow under your knees?”
