Page 128 of The Backup Plan

You’ve shown us how you bring both to the table.

I didn’t know until now how much I needed to hear that.

Emery

The MRI machine hums as it calibrates. It’s a low steady sound that tells me I’m in my element. Where I’m meant to be.

Usually.

Lucas lies flat on the table, one arm positioned just right—even though it’s probably uncomfortable for him—but he doesn’t complain.

“A little pinch,” Albert, the radiologist, says as he injects contrast dye into the joint of Lucas’s shoulder. Under the magnetic resonance arthrogram, the dye will help us see the needed details to assess his shoulder’s stability as well as confirming the repairs to his labrum and rotator cuff are still solid.

“Stop talking dirty to me, Albert,” Lucas jokes as Clark begins to position him in the ABER position with his hand placed behind his head and the elbow flexed.

“Why the new position?” Lucas asks.

“On a postoperative shoulder repair, this is the only position that allows us to distinguish between surgical artifacts like scars and anchors and actual new damage,” Albert says. “This position adds stress to the shoulder, which allows us to see subtle abnormalities like partial thickness rotator cuff tears or labral injuries.”

“Good to know, but we won’t be seeing any of that,” Lucas says. But the way his eyes flicker to the machine when he should be used to this by now, tells me he’s nervous.

It’s completely understandable.

“So,” I say lightly, trying to distract and relax him. “Anything exciting been going on in your life lately?”

Lucas turns his head enough to look at me. I keep my eyes focused on the computer in front of me but fail fighting my smile.

“Depends who’s asking,” he says.

“Your doctor,” I say nonchalantly.

“Nothing exciting, no. I’ve been living like a monk.”

I arch a brow as Albert and Clark snicker.

“Correction. A monk who occasionally goes out, stays up too late, and makes questionable decisions,” Lucas says.

I level Lucas with a look that’s a cross between a scold and a roll of my eyes. “You realize that lying to your doctors is frowned upon.”

“Is it lying if we all know it’s bullshit?”

“Very much so.”

Lucas’s grin comes easy. Mission accomplished. “Worth it. Besides, if I told you I was busy having wild, crazy, swing from the chandeliers type se—”

“Nope. Don’t need to know.” I throw my hands up. “Other than telling you swinging with that shoulder might not be in your best interest.”

Albert laughs as Lucas feigns innocence. “Geesh. What were you thinking I was going to say?” Lucas asks with a bat of his lashes.

“I don’t think I want to know.” I laugh.

“For the record, I was going to say I participate in hour-long meditation sessions, followed by morning runs, and then late-night yoga in my apartment to release some stress.”

“Choir boy stuff, no doubt.” It’s my turn to snort. “And none of that involves swinging from chandeliers.”

“Doc, you really need to get your mind out of the gutter. I hear it’s a dangerous place to be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say and turn my back to hide my smile as my mind ghosts back to last night and me riding him on my couch. His hands. His mouth. His cock.