I grab the crutches and get to my feet, practically growling, or maybe groaning, from the pull of muscles. "Let's get out of here."
I head toward the door, aware of the fact my best friend is eyeing me like I'm a prickly bear waking up from hibernation. I can't help it, though. I'd gone too deep down the rabbit hole of all the things wrong at the moment, and I still haven't found my way out.
The hallway is busy with staff, caregivers and patients coming and going from therapy. We wait in silence at the elevator, but once on board and alone, Gabe lifts a thick eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest once more in his typical chief stance.
"What's going on with you?"
I swipe a hand over my face and grimace at the sweat, leaning my head low and shoulder high to take another swipe on the material of my damp tee, all the while juggling the stupid crutches. "Nothing."
"Try again."
The elevator slows and dings, and I look up to see an elderly couple get on board. Gabe greets them with a nod but shoots me a glance that says I'm not off the hook.
Once we're off the elevator and on our way to his Jeep, he tries again.
"You know you can talk to me."
"I know."
He swears softly. "So talk. What's going through that thick skull of yours? Is it about work? Therapy? What?"
He walks me to the passenger side of the Wrangler like a freaking prom date, and I hobble on one leg and shift the crutches out of the way to haul myself up and in. At least now I can sit in the front seat instead of having to ride in the back everywhere like my ride is driving Miss Daisy.
Gabe stashes the crutches in the backseat and gets behind the wheel. He starts the Jeep and gets the AC cranked to combat the August heat outside, but he makes no effort to get us moving.
Great, now I'm trapped. Literally. For the love of?—
"Start talking and don't stop until you tell me everything going on with you."
"You my shrink now?"
"If I need to be, yeah," he counters. "But more than that, I'm your friend. And you're about to be my best man. So talk."
Silence. Gabe doesn't budge or look away. So I do. I roll my head on my neck, and it pops loudly as I stare at the flag flying outside the hospital doors. "Fine. I'm…frustrated."
More silence. Yeah, Gabe's not giving an inch. But how do I tell the man my new roomie is the source of my mood? Well, one of them, anyway?
"It's too soon to know, Kace. Just relax, do the PT and follow the doc's orders. Then worry about what comes next. You've got time. You were injured on the job, which means you're covered financially. You'll figure things out."
I nod. Because of course Gabe thinks I'm worried about work and getting back to it. And I am, but that's not?—
"Unless this is about something else?"
I try to school my features, but he sees something I can't hide. I can tell because of the slight widening of his eyes.
Gabe shifts in his seat with a low, "Ahhh, I see."
"You see what?" I grumble.
"That you're a grump because of your beautiful caretaker."
Part of me wants to shrug him off and lie through my teeth, but I don't. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who's known you forever. So what's the problem?"
I still and then turn an incredulous look his way. "Which one?" I demand. "I can't go after Lindsey."
Gabe's thick eyebrows pull low. "Why not?"
