Fine. I don’t like it. But I’m not acknowledging it out loud.
Sadie makes a weird noise that she must think is super cute. “Lemme take care of you. I can drive you home and nurse you back to health!”
“That’s a good idea,” Dr. Wilson says.
“I don’t need a nurse.” Grant scoffs. “And I can drive myself.”
“You shouldnotbe driving,” the doc says. “Even though you aren’t exhibiting signs of a concussion at the moment, they don’t always manifest immediately after a trauma. Sometimes it can take hours.”
“Oh, come on,” Grant says.
“So someone should watch you for the next day or so,” the doctor continues. “Also, the pills I had you take were muscle relaxants. You aren’t supposed to drive.”
“Why the hell did you do that?” Grant complains. “Tylenol’s plenty good enough.”
Dr. Wilson shakes his head. “Because you’re going to be very, very sore. You’re extremely lucky that nothing was broken.”
“Starfire is a good horse.”
The doctor squints. “I don’t think—”
“You heard the man!” Sadie loops her arm around Grant’s. “I’m totally ready and willing to drive you anywhere.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” He pulls his arm out of her grip. “And your Aston Martin’s too cramped.”
Her eyes light up. “No, Daddy just got me a Maserati for my birthday! It’s just like yours, except newer!”
Must be nice.I watch those two—so well suited to each other. Both rich. Both privileged. Both pretty. I don’t even recognize the brand logos on their clothes, while I’m in a cheap outfit and have a car that’s ten years old.
Grant looks pained. “New-car smell? Ugh.”
“We can open the windows!” she says.
“Sadie, your voice is going to give me a concussion for real.”
I stifle a laugh.
Sadie looks at him like he just called her ugly. “How could you say that?”
“There. That shrill tone.” He puts a finger at his temple and groans. “How can anybodynotget a concussion?” He turns to me. “Aspen, would you mind?”
I blink at the abrupt shift in his focus. “Mind what?”
“Driving me home.”
“No!” Sadie screams.
I wince at the screech, but I’m not going to say no just to soothe her. Besides, Grant’s seen my car already. Guess not even a just-like-Grant’s-but-newer Maserati is good enough to beat my not-at-all-new Mazda3. “Of course. Nothing would give me more pleasure.”
* * *
“We don’t have to go right now,” Grant says as I fold him into the passenger seat of my Mazda3. But he doesn’t resist much as he goes in.
“Yes, we do.” I don’t need Sadie bringing backup. Bronte and Tanya only exacerbate Sadie’s impossible personality.
He puts a hand on the door to stop me from closing it. “But the match isn’t over yet.”
“It’s about to be. Move your hand.”