Page 52 of The Fighter

“You know not to call me that.”

She wore her hospital scrubs and white coat with a stethoscope around her neck and a pair of gray On Cloud sneakers on her feet. She had a book bag strapped to her shoulders. “And I told you not to call me Dr. Rosen but you do it anyway.”

“Because you’re the best and deserve respect.”

She stepped into my apartment, and I shut the door behind her. She patted my shoulder. “This is why you’re the only person I make house calls for.” She started down the hall, and I followed her to find Tav standing at the island with his feet braced apart, arms loose at his sides. But I knew him well enough to know that he was well on his way to panic as his gaze tracked Sam’s every move as she approached him.

Sam, however, didn’t blink at his intense scrutiny. “Hello there, I’m Dr. Rosen. You can call me Sam. I take it you don’t remember me?”

His nostrils flared, and his gaze shifted to me before snapping back to her. “No.”

He needed to chill. I took his arm and led him over to the couch. Sam walked beside us, and Tav watched her the whole time. I pushed on his shoulder, and he sat on the couch cushion stiffly. Sam sat on the coffee table in front of him, still with that easy smile as if he was a spooked horse.

“I was here last night,” she explained. “You were out of it, and I wasn’t able to speak to you or let you know what I was treating. Would you like me to explain everything I did and what I told Conrad?”

This was why Sam was the best. She was giving Tav back some control over his own body when he’d been too out of it to consent to medical treatment. I hadn’t felt bad about it, but then I hadn’t taken a medical oath like she did.

“Con said you bandaged me, checked me for a concussion, and drew my blood.” He glared at me out of the side of his eye. “Was there anything else?”

“I checked for broken bones, and you fortunately didn’t have any. But your pupils were dilated, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say this wasn’t your first concussion?”

Tav stayed quiet, and his gaze shifted over and down as if he suddenly found the pattern on my rug interesting.

Sam took that as a yes. “That was what I thought.” She dropped her book bag on the ground and gripped the stethoscope around her neck. “I’d like to follow-up and check your injuries to make sure everything is healing, and to ensure I didn’t miss anything yesterday. Would that be okay? I can touch you as little as possible, and I’ll let you know where I’m going to touch before I do it.”

Tav’s shoulders had begun to drop lower and lower as she spoke, the tension easing out of him. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured.

She patted the couch. “Can you take off your shirt and lay down flat on your back?”

NINETEEN

Tav

No, I didn’t want to lay down on the couch. I didn’t want this doctor here. I didn’t want anyone in this apartment except me and Con. I felt unstable after talking about my sister and hearing my nephew’s voice, and now I had someone who looked at me too kindly, toohumanely, and it was freaking me out. I was used to Lary’s friend who always checked me after my fights. He was an old man who had lost his medical license a decade ago when he kept writing himself prescriptions for pain meds. He was usually high as a kite when he bandaged me up with shaky fingers, but he took cash and didn’t ask questions.

This lady—Sam—was a real doctor and everything, with an ID around her neck identifying her as an employee at the local hospital. Her lanyard had dinosaurs on it.

Stegosauruseses ated plants.

I willed my hands not to shake.

“Tav,” Con’s voice cut through my thoughts. I turned to see him studying me. “Let her check you over, please.”For me. I heard the implication in his voice, and yeah, fine, I’d let hercheck me out, because that would make him happy, and my life was simple when I focused on being good for Con.

I pulled my shirt off, tossed it to the floor, and lay down on the couch. I stared at the ceiling, so unlike the stained plaster of my apartment. Which I didn’t have anymore. Because Con was a tyrant.

This couch was fucking great though, covered in a soft leather that felt like butter under my skin. I sank into it, nearly forgetting about Sam until she leaned over me. She did as she said, letting me know all the places she planned to touch before she did so. As Husk, I didn’t really care who touched me. My body didn’t even feel like mine half the time, but in Con’s apartment, this body belonged to Tav, and my skin felt brand new and tender like a soft-shell crab.

I tuned her out as she spoke over me until she prodded at my sore shoulder, and I sucked in a breath. She went still. “Does that hurt?”

I forced myself to unlock my jaw. “It was dislocated like two years ago.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Con crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a pair of joggers and a tight T-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and lean waist. He looked so fucking hot. I decided to think about that instead of my fucking shoulder.

She spent a lot of time on my ribs, and I could have told her they weren’t cracked, because I knew what that felt like. They were bruised to hell though. But when she reached my bad ankle, and rolled it, I couldn’t hide my reaction as I drew up my knee sharply to get away from her touch. She went still again, and raised one dark, perfectly arched eyebrow. “Another old injury?”

“Yeah,” I said, settling my leg back down. “Sprained it. Can’t remember when. Over a year ago.”

Con pulled in a sharp breath and turned away, giving me his back, and I didn’t like it. Fuck, this was crazy. He’d done everything for me, and while he stood five feet away, I felt abandoned. My heart pounded, and oxygen seemed to grow scarce in this large apartment.