Page 25 of Breaking Hollywood

“Yes! And why are we arguing about this exactly?”

He stares at me for a long moment. “If you haven’t figured that out yet, Speedy, then you never will.”

Huh?

I open my mouth to ask what the hell he’s talking about, but Tate reappears, interrupting us.

“I’m going to take you down to the fracture clinic and have the boot fitted there,” he tells Gabe.

“Should I wait here? Or come with you?” I ask.

“Come along,” Tate tells me. “Gabe’s going to need a ride home when he’s done. Would you be okay driving him? I’m on shift until ten tonight; otherwise, I’d take him.”

“I am here,” Gabe pipes up.

“Of course I’ll drive him,” I answer Tate, ignoring Gabe.

“I can get a cab,” Gabe says to me. “You don’t have to drive me.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?”

“Well, I do quite like living, Speedy, but that’s not what I meant. I’ve taken up most of your day. I’m just saying, you don’t have to give up any more of your day for me.”

Hang on. Was he just being nice?

“Was that you…being nice…to me?”

His brows draw together. “Maybe.”

“Okay”—I shake my head—“I’m not sure what to do with that. But I want to drive you. It’s the least I can do after breaking two bones in your small foot with my tiny car.”

He gives me the middle finger, and I’m back on steady ground, which was shaking a moment ago from shock at his niceness.

Tate wheels him over to the elevator, and I follow, my coffee in hand.

We all get in, and Tate presses the button for the first floor.

I feel like I’ve spent too much of my day in this elevator. I’ll be ready to never see it again.

“You’re going to need some help around the house,” Tate says to Gabe. “Is Donna away?”

“Yeah, she’s on vacation, but playing nursemaid for me isn’t part of her job description as my PA. And, anyway, I’ll be fine. I can manage.”

“No, you’re going to need help. I don’t want you on your foot at all for the first few weeks, so I’m putting you on crutches. Getting around is going to be tricky. I can try to take some time off to help you, but—”

“I can help,” I hear myself saying.

What?

Two sets of dark eyes swivel to me.

Me and my damn guilty conscience.

Well, I’ve said it now, so I can’t take it back.

I clear my throat. “I mean, if you need help while you’re stuck, Gabe, I can help you. After all, you are in this position because of me, so the least I can do is take care of you.”

“No way,” Gabe says at the same time as Tate says, “That’d be great.”