Page 43 of None Of Your Business

“Yes,” Hudson says.

“I don’t need paramedics.”

“You lost consciousness and hit your head.”

“So you keep saying.”

“Because you keep behaving as if you didn’t.”

“It feels minor.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

I reach up with a shaky hand, but Hudson catches my wrist before I can touch it.

“It’s a lot of blood.”

“Mine?”

He just stares at me.

“Right. Stupid question.” I look down and catch a red smear on my hand. “Oh.” That’s more blood than I expected.

“I’m okay,” I repeat.

Dr. Webb stands. “Everyone, give her some space. Session’s over. Let’s clear the room.”

“I hope you’re better for next week,” Gemma says through a sniffle. Is she crying? “I need someone on my side.”

“About what?”

“My mother-in-law.”

“Still has the key?”

She laughs through her tears, while Howard points a finger at me. “No therapy next week if you’ve got a concussion.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Howard. You forgot four anniversaries.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hudson curses under his breath.

A reluctant chorus of goodbyes fills the air as people gather their coats.

Robert pauses at the door, his expression softening. “You scared us.”

“I like keeping everyone on their toes.”

“Rest,” he says with a brief smile before leaving.

My throat suddenly feels tight. Definitely a concussion.

A minute later, heavy footsteps approach from the hallway, and two paramedics appear carrying enough gear to make my stomach twist.

“For fuck’s sake.”

“That’s an encouraging neurological sign,” Hudson murmurs. “You’re still swearing.”