Page 87 of After You Returned

“And right.”

“Whatever.” She huffs before pulling on the resistance band until it’s taut.

“Good. Now slowly release.”

The band snaps out of her hands and flies forward. I duck before it hits me in the face. It lands on the mirror with a splat before falling to the ground.

“Oops. Sorry.” Judging by the twinkle in her eyes, she’s not sorry at all. Maybe sorry she missed my face.

“At least I’m only mean with words. I don’t actually try to hit people.”

“No?” She waggles her eyebrows. “You don’t ever hit Miles when he annoys you?”

I sigh. Patient after patient this morning has tried to gather information about my relationship with Miles. The wager on the bet must be sky-high. No one’s ever been this curious about my love life before.

I check my watch. “We have a few more minutes. Let’s work on some core exercises.”

She groans. “Not the exercise ball again.”

I roll the ball her way. “Your throne, milady.”

“Stupid exercise ball,” she mutters before flouncing down on it.

Expert tip: Never flounce down on an exercise ball. The ball bounces and Addy jumps to her feet. The ball rolls toward her and she kicks out, causing the ball to fly forward straight into my stomach.

“Oof!” I bend over to wrap my arms around my stomach.

“Oopsie!”

“You could at least pretend to be sorry.”

“Even when I’m not?”

I glare at her. “I’m booing you off the stage the next time you sing karaoke.”

“You can try. Your boos won’t be heard over the cheers.”

I fist my hands at my hips. “Did you forget about my megaphone?”

She groans. “How could I forget? You used it to wake up my entire neighborhood back in high school.”

“I was only trying to wake up Sandra. How dare she say she kissed Miles!”

I knew Sandra was lying, but she needed to learn her lesson. Liars do not get to sleep through the night on the night before senior pictures are taken. Guess whose picture is not in the yearbook.

Addy rubs her hands together. “And we’re back to Miles.”

“I’ll talk about Miles.” She smiles. “If you do ten more reps with the resistance band.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “No pot of gold is worth another ten reps.”

“Wimp.”

“Torturer.”

The bell over the front door rings as my next patient enters the practice. Addy doesn’t hesitate. She grabs her purse and rushes to the exit. “See you next week!”

I follow her to the front door. “You must be my mystery patient,” I greet Hudson.