16. Harley
Chapter Sixteen
HARLEY
“Here you go.” Gemma handed me a glass of water.
I was seated in her kitchen on a stool at the counter with my feet hooked around the rungs. “Thank you.” I took a swallow, glancing out the windows.
Gemma had purchased this home with Diego.
The house came with horses, and I watched one of them nibbling grass along the edge of the fence.
The home sat on a rise, offering a view of Kachemak Bay in the distance through the trees.
Sunshine glittered on the surface of the water, the wind ruffling it and creating little sparks of light.
Looking back toward Gemma, I watched as she stirred meat in a pan. She was making tacos. She had invited me over for dinner with her and Diego, something she did fairly often.
She glanced over, casting me a quick smile.
“What?” I asked.
“Just thinking I'm glad you are who you are,” she replied.
“Same.” I loved Gemma, and she was perfect for my brother.
She turned the flame down under the pan, setting a lid on it, and turned around to face me. She smoothed a hand over her rumpled, honey-blond curls, her eyes sparkling with her smile.
After a second, her gaze sobered. “I invited you over early because Diego's worried.”
“Worried?” I interjected.
She sighed. “Yes.”
Even though she didn’t spell it out, I knew she was referring to his concern about my health. “It’s fine. I have a minor heart issue.”
Gemma's brow furrowed, her concerned gaze skating over my face. “A minor heart problem? You're pretty young for a heart problem.”
I shrugged, ignoring the nervous feeling in my belly. “Apparently, there's a family history of it.”
“But what is it?”
“It’s this thing where sometimes my heart goes too fast or skips a beat. It’s called supraventricular tachycardia or SVT.”
Gemma nodded slowly. “Okay, so what does it mean?”
“Well, if it's happening, and if I get up too quickly or something like that, I might faint. That's what Grant saw. But it's fine,” I insisted. “I haven't fainted that many times.”
“How many times?” Gemma pressed. She pushed away from the counter, crossing over to slide her hips onto a stool across from where I was sitting at the island.
She looked way too worried for my comfort level. “It's really not much, I swear. Have you ever fainted?”
“Yeah. Heat stroke one summer.”
“Oh, really?”
“We traveled to the beach on the East Coast. I wasn't used to the humidity.”
“See, fainting happens,” I said, striving to keep my tone nonchalant.
She cocked her head to the side. “You know, I'm giving you a dry run.”
“What?”
“A dry run. Diego is going to show up, and you could use some practice.” She glanced at her watch. “He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. He’s going to ask you all the same questions. I know you don't want him to worry, but it'd be best if you're honest. Is there anything we can help with?”
“I do not need help,” I ground out.
Gemma lifted her hands, letting them fall lightly on the counter. “I didn't say you did, but Diego wants to help.”
“There's nothing he can do.” I took another gulp of water, willing the churning in my stomach to slow down.
“So is that the whole story?”
“Yes,” I lied.
I wasn't about to tell her that Quinn recommended I take medication. I didn't want to take medication. I wanted to just manage it. It wasn't that I was opposed to medicine in general. Just not for me.
Gemma studied me quietly. “What does Quinn think?”
I lied again. “He’s prescribed some medication, and I’ll start soon.”
Just then, we heard the door to the front of the house opening. Gemma glanced at me, her lips twitching with a smile.
“Thanks for the practice,” I teased.
“He’s early.”
“You knew he would be. He's ready to grill me.”
She snorted a laugh.
Diego appeared a moment later, tossing his backpack in a closet. As he shrugged out of his jacket and kicked his boots off, he called over, “Hey!”
Gemma slipped off the stool and crossed over to him. “Hey there. Dinner should be ready soon.”
For a moment, I might as well have been invisible. Diego dipped his head, giving her a lingering kiss. I looked away, feeling a pang in my chest. Their intimacy was so evident that it was almost its own force.
My mind skipped over to Grant, and I immediately shoved him out of the way. I did not need to be dwelling on hot nights with Grant while having dinner with my brother.
A moment later, Gemma returned to the stove to check on the meat. Diego opened the refrigerator and fetched a bottle of beer. He turned to face me as he removed the cap and tossed it in the wastebasket.
“Hey, how was your day?” I asked.
After finishing a swallow of his beer, he crossed over, sitting on the stool Gemma had just vacated. “Pretty good. Busy.”
“You're always busy.”
“I could say the same about you,” he replied.
I shrugged. “I like it that way.”
“So do I,” he teased after another swallow of his beer.
I called over to Gemma, “Do you need me to do anything?”
She glanced over, shaking her head. “Nope. Everything's already prepped.” My gaze scanned the counter where she had prepared small bowls of taco fixings. “I'm putting the soft shells in the oven right now.”
“I am freaking starving,” Diego announced when he put his beer bottle on the counter.
“You’re in luck. Gemma's cooking you dinner,” I teased.
Gemma called over, “He cooks as much as I do.”
“I know he does. He's a good man.”
When I glanced toward Diego, he had a familiar focused look in his eyes, studying me.
“What?” I asked automatically.
“What's up with you fainting?”
I sighed. “Didn’t Terese tell you?”
“Yeah, she said it's a heart thing our aunt had and not to get too worried.”
“Well, don't worry then. That should be enough information for you,” I countered.
Diego narrowed his eyes. “Harley…” he began.
“Just because I'm your little sister doesn't mean I’m required to give you a blow-by-blow.”
“Did you tell Gemma?”
“Fine. It's a thing where my heartbeat can be irregular and sometimes skips a beat. That's it.”
“What does that mean? Grant said you fainted.”
“I did. I think that night it was because I hadn't eaten anything. Combining that with this, I fainted.”
“How many times have you fainted?”
“Oh my God,” I muttered. “Not many. So few I haven't kept count.”
I was lying. I knew exactly how many times I’d fainted—six times. I was not about to offer more details to my overprotective brother.
“What did Quinn say?”
“I have an appointment with him next week to talk about a medication recommendation.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“No. Diego, it's not necessary for you to talk to him.”
I really didn't want him talking to my doctor. That just felt weird.
Gemma swooped in. “Time for dinner,” she said as she set a bowl filled with taco meat in front of us. She turned to get the taco shells out of the oven.
“Are they going to be crispy?” I asked.
She shook her head as she lifted them with a spatula onto a plate.
Diego didn’t get the memo. “It’s just your regular doctor, not your OBGYN.”
I rolled my eyes. “Diego, if it becomes necessary for you to talk to my doctor, you can talk to my doctor. This is not an emergency.”
He lifted his beer and took a swallow before replying, “Promise me you'll keep me in the loop.”
“Absolutely.” I would keep him in the loop. I just wouldn't tell him the whole story.