Page 101 of Knot So Social

“Okay, where is it?”

I give him the directions and then lean back, bracing my body between the door and center console to minimize my movement around corners. I know Joel’s driving more carefully than normal, but the bumps still set my teeth on edge.

When we pull into the parking lot, he gets my crutches out and opens my door. “You’re treating me better than your girlfriends,” I tease.

His eyes get all sad.

“It was a joke,” I tell him. “A bad one. You were a great boyfriend, most of the time.” Which was true. He puts in lots of effort in private.

“I think I should go in alone,” I tell him to change the subject.

“Definitely not. If you fall, you’ll end up breaking your hip. Then we’re both up for endless therapy.”

I snort and lever my ass off the seat. The crutch padding digs into my underarms.

“Self-preservation, is it?” I ask with a grin.

“Totally.” He slaps the brim of my hat and closes the door behind me. “Now lead the way, stumpy.”

I groan and reposition my hat before lurching forward.

The clinic looms above us, casting a long shadow over the parking lot. A faint chill settles in my soul that has nothing to do with the lighting. Employers don’t like workers on compensation. At best, they’ll shorten my contract. And at worst, they’ll think I’m faking it. Maybe my grouchiness this morning isn’t all about pain—or at least not the one in my groin.

The fear of either outcome settles like rocks in my belly.

Joel whistles. He stands in the foyer, hands in his pockets staring around at the tasteful gilt and modern décor.

“Looks a bit fancy,” he mutters when he catches me staring. “High end.”

I smile but don’t get a chance to answer.

“Jeremy?” Debbie throws her hands up with a gasp. “What are you doing here?”

She bustles out from behind the desk.

I put on a floppy smile. “The boss said I had some forms to sign.”

“Yes, but gosh, we didn’t think you’d be in for another week. Do you want to sit, or . . .?” She casts around, frowning at the low lounges. “An office chair, perhaps?”

“I think I’ll just lean on the counter, if that’s okay?”

“Lean all you like!” She bustles behind the desk. “I put the forms away because I didn’t think we’d see you so soon. How diligent.”

She slides a folder across the bench and stacks a pen on top. “Okay, we have the compensation claim, make sure the details are correct on that one. Underneath is your application for sick leave.”

A weird stinging sensation burns behind my eyes as I read and sign. I’m dying to ask how this is going to affect my employment, but at the same time, the thought of joining some other omega for her heat makes me feel ill. Maybe that’s just the medication. This is the job I signed up for, right? Maybe if they fire me for being clumsy, I won’t have to sleep with someone else.

But then I don’t have an excuse to see Willow again.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Debbie checks her computer. “Did you bring your Heat Wave tablet back?”

I shake my head. “It’s still at Will—the omega’s—house.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I can send someone over to collect it.”

My pulse jumps in my throat. “Um, if it’s okay to wait a day or two, I’m happy to pick it up.”

A small line forms between her brows and the rocks in my stomach grow bigger.