Page 46 of None Of Your Business

When I wake again, the fuzzy weight has lifted, though my body feels like it was hit by a truck.

Hudson sets the book face-down on his knee, his glasses pushed up on his nose. The room feels smaller with him in it.

His gaze tracks my movement as I gingerly rearrange the cushions.

“You can stop looking at me like I’m about to die. I promise I won’t do it on your watch.”

“Thank you,” he says, his tone bone-dry. “It would mess up the study. The paperwork for a fatality is extensive.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and my head throbs in protest. I wince, clutching the ice pack tighter. “You make jokes. I never would have guessed.”

My brain is still loose enough that the drowsy-honesty phase is actively working against me.

“I don’t have daddy issues,” I tell him out of nowhere.

He blinks, pausing as he folds his glasses into his pocket.

“You know. You’re an older man—”

“I’m thirty-seven,” he says. “Hardly a relic.”

I shrug. “I just thought you should know.”

As I shift on the couch, I feel a familiar stab of pain in my ankle. I must have twisted it when I went down.

“Can you hand me that?” I point to a roll of athletic tape sitting on the shelf near his chair.

He hands it over without a word. I pull up my pant leg, inspect the swelling, and wrap the joint with practiced movements.

“Thank you.”

I mean it. He didn’t have to take care of me tonight. He gave me space at the hospital while the doctor took my medical history, and he didn’t ask what I told them. He didn’t even try to look at my chart.

It matters to me more than I have words for.

“If I told you something,” I begin, picking at a thread on the blanket. “Something medical. Would you have to keep it confidential?”

He sits up straight in the chair. “In what capacity?”

“Doctor capacity.”

“I’m not your doctor.”

“Could you temporarily become my doctor?”

“No.”

“That was quick.”

“Because the answer is clear.”

I tug harder at the loose thread. “So you could tell Beckett?”

He searches my face. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

I nod.

“If you tell me something about your health, I’m not going to repeat it to anyone, including Beckett. What you tell me is yours.”