“Why is that?”
I get the feeling that Dr. McAllister gets a kick out of patients being hopped up on Versed—the nice ones at least.
“Kissing your brother is gross, and kissing Trevor is…” Her sentence drops off in a dreamy sigh that would win a teen sitcom actor an Emmy.
“How much longer do you think she’ll need to stay?” I ask, but not because I care about the time. We can stay here for the rest of the day if it means Kenzie is safe. I interrupt because I have a feeling that non-drugged Kenzie probably wouldn’t be whispering these kinds of details to strangers.
“An hour. Two, tops. The mucosal edema has markedly decreased, but I’d like to see her lip swelling lessen before sending her home.”
A terrifying thought zips to the front of my mind, and I rub my suddenly sweaty hands over my shorts.
“You’re sure everything will be fine after that? The swelling won’t come back, and she won’t have”—I swallow over my tight throat—“trouble breathing or anything?”
Dr. McAllister’s smile softens. “No. This is a simple allergic reaction. I don’t anticipate she’ll have any other issues as long as she avoids walnuts in the future.”
“I’ll see to that.”
I’d already cleared the kitchen of her allergens the second Kenzie mentioned it offhandedly months ago. I only eat bananas at the clubhouse now, even though I used to keep them on the counter for a quick snack.
“Then I can do anything, right? I don’t need to stay at home?” Kenzie asks in a rare moment of lucidity. Maybe the loopy medicine is finally wearing off.
The doctor tucks away her pen light. “Whatever your heart desires.”
Kenzie practically squeals, waving energetically as the doctor leaves. Dylan hovers, even though there’s nothing left for him to do.
“Hey, I wanted to ask. Is there any way…” He rubs the back of his neck, stalling.
“Give me a pen,” I say with a sigh, back to the grouchy version of myself.
I knew this was what the pause was about before, why he couldn’t stop looking at me. Dylan wants an autograph, even though Kenzie should be his sole focus. The man practically salivates as I quickly scribble my signature on the back of his patient notes.
“That was nice of you,” Kenzie says once he’s gone.
“I guess,” I grumble, still upset about the situation.
“You look strange, frowning.” Her fingertip pokes me in cheek. “Bring back my Trevor.”
My Trevor.
I like the sound of that way too much. The idea of belonging to Kenzie, of beinghers.
That tiny little word attached to my name feels like sparklers ignited beneath my skin. I’ve never belonged to a person, not really. I’ve belonged to a team, to a franchise, but never to one person who chose me for something other than my skills on the field or my bank account.
A deep, settling sensation filters into my chest, feeling eerily similar to the resonance that vibrates up my forearms after I’ve hit a home run. When that happens, I don’t even have to watch the ball,I just know.
Kenzie likes me…for me.
A wild grin tugs on my lips as I press my cheek into her palm.
“There he is,” she says through a widening smile. “That’s much better.”
I turn and kiss her palm, the wattage of my smile doubling. “What do you want to do for the rest of our hospital date?”
Her noisy inhale pulls an easy chuckle from my lips.
“That’s what we’ll call it. A hospital date. Then we haven’t lost any time today.” Kenzie’s earnest smile tugs at something deep in my soul.
“I think Dylan owes me a juice box. I’ll get two, and we can pretend they’re wine.”
