“Martha’s thing is tomorrow.” I adjust, wincing as my ankle slides on the pillow. “I was going to see my parents on Monday. Leave on Friday. I bet if I skip the shower and let my ankle rest, maybe even skip seeing my parents, I could still be outta your hair by the end of the week.”
Gabby’s brows lift. “You could fly back?”
“Can’t afford it.”
“Right. Sorry.” She frowns, running a hand through her honey-blonde hair. “And your dad is still all‘I’m a stubborn ass who’s always right and would rather make a point than help my daughter out of a bad way?’” Gabby finishes, doing a scarily accurate impression of his voice.
“We don’t really talk all that much.”
Mostly because of everything Gabby just said.
“That’s probably for the best,” Stella mutters.
“I’d die if I couldn’t talk to my dad,” Gabby says quietly, earning herself another elbow in the ribs from Stella.
“What?” she says, holding up her hands. “I’m not wrong. Just… different families, different rules.”
I glance away. It’s not jealousy exactly. More like… mourning something I never had. Which is silly and unproductive right now.
“You know what?” I force a smile. “We can’t let my disaster ruin our time together. I won’t be able to go to Martha’s shower, and we can’t do beach walks or go out dancing or whatever, but we can still watch movies, eat popcorn, and laugh at the tragedies of boyfriends past the way we used to.”
“You’re not supposed to be looking at screens,” Stella says, holding up a highlighted section of my discharge paperwork like it’s gospel. “Concussion protocol.”
“Right,” I sigh. “Dr. Stupidly Handsome did mention that.”
I try to sound casual, but just thinking about him makes my stomach flutter.
Which is ridiculous.
Obviously.
Stella arches a brow. “Come again?”
“Hot doctor?” Gabby perks up. “Do tell.”
“Oh, I told, all right.Him.” I groan at the memory. “Pretty sure I called him a Greek god to his face.”
Gabby gasps like I confessed to murder while Stella cackles and I’m instantly transported back to staring dumbly at that unfairly beautiful face. It was one thing when I thought he asked me on a date. Another when I couldn’t stop staring into those storm-gray eyes. But actually saying any of that out loud?
Thank goodness I’ll never see him again. Can’t imagine that awkward reunion.
“Did you get a name at least?” Gabby asks, still half-laughing.
“Dr. Kincaid. Older. Tall. Rude in that I-save-lives-and-don’t-have-time-for-your-emotions kind of way.” I think back to the look on his face when he heard I didn’t have insurance. “But also, kind of not.”
Both my friends freeze.
“Wait,” Stella says slowly. “NashKincaid?”
I blink. “I didn’t exactly ask for his first name.”
Stella rifles through the paperwork, then nods sharply, looking… disgusted?
“Yep. There it is. Doctor Nash Kincaid.” She stabs the paper with her finger before dropping it to the floor like it’s contaminated.
Gabby groans. “Of course. Ofcoursethe guy you call a Greek god is Grayson’s older brother.”
“And Bennett’s,” Stella adds, deadpan.
