“He was always dramatic.”
“Runs in the family.”
“Says the ER doc who performed an emergency surgery in a hospital parking lot yesterday.”
“Point well made.” I lift my hands in concession and Bennett raises a brow.
“All right. That’s it. You doin’ okay? That’s twice I’ve hit you and you haven’t hit back.”
I shrug. “Don’t get cocky. Age comes with wisdom. I’ll get you when you least expect it.”
Lucy’s face flashes in my mind again, unwelcome, insistent.
I don’t know why she’s still there.
You have the jawline of a Greek god.
It should’ve been nothing. Just a medicated slip from a concussed patient.
But for some reason, it stuck.
Maybe because Bennett’s more right than I’ll ever admit. And for one stupid second, Lucy Calder made me feel like things in this world could still surprise me.
Or maybe because, in that moment, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.
Awake.
God help me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lucy
The gym doors hiss open behind me, releasing a wave of cool air that disappears the second I step into the heat. The sun hits me full-on, bright and brutal. I squint against it, awkwardly crutching my way toward the curb.
My ankle is throbbing, and not in that satisfying, “you pushed yourself and now you’re stronger” kind of way. More like, “you’re not exactly qualified to rehab a grade three sprain with nothing more than a few YouTube videos as guidance.”
Dr. Kincaid’s last words float back to me.“If you push it, you’ll risk permanent damage. And I will personally make sure you regret it.”
At the time, I’d felt seen. Noticed. But also, like Nash Kincaid didn’t know who he was talking to. I mean, I moved to Los Angeles the summer after I graduated,aftermy father making it clear he wouldn’t be there to catch me if I failed. Funny how that works, knowing you don’t have a safety net. You find wells of strength and grit you wouldn’t know existed otherwise. I’ve yet to meet a problem I couldn’t solve on my own.
Oddly enough, I spent the entire time in the gym, internally arguing with Dr. Nash Kincaid.
“If you push it, you’ll risk permanent damage.”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t push it, I risk bankruptcy.”
“I will personally make sure you regret it.”
“Yeah? Well, I will personally make sure you regret doubting me.”
Even I can see I was probably arguing more with Dad than my ER doctor. Daddy issues make life fun.
To make it worse, I can’t get Nash’s condescending smirk out of my head. Or his chiseled jawline. Or those stormy gray eyes.
Thank goodness I’ll never see him again.
I find my way to a bit of shade and scan the parking lot. No sign of Stella, my ride. The big black boot of death digs into my calf, my shoulders ache from crutching around too long, and my shirt is clinging to me in a very unflattering way. I take out my phone. No texts. No calls.
