Chapter 17
seventeen
. . .
Bex
A knock sounds on my open office door, and I look up to find Nick standing in the threshold, fidgeting and shifting on his feet. My face slips into an automatic scowl. He rubs the back of his neck, his tanned cheeks red above his beard.
“Uh, can I come in?”
Annaliese isn’t here yet, so I can’t pawn him off to her. I guess I have to be the grown-up and actually work with my patient. Damn it.
I fight back my instinctive snarl. “Fine. Close the door.”
He inches forward, like he’s afraid I’m going to lunge at him and claw his eyes out. He’s not wrong to be skittish around me.
Carefully, he sets a to-go coffee cup on the desk in front of me. The nutty, buttery scent of hazelnut coffee creamer wafts over me.
“What’s this?”
“A peace offering,” he mutters, not looking at me.
I open my mouth, but he cuts me off.
“This is me, not talking about the thing we’re not talking about. Just… drink it.”
“It’s not poisoned?”
He scoffs. “It’s not like I carry cyanide around in my pocket.”
“Or iocane powder?” I lift the paper cup to my lips and take a sip.
It’s lukewarm, the perfect temperature. I hate scalding my tongue on hot coffee, so I always wait an hour or two to drink it.
Cold brew is my favorite. But I don’t like it with ice.
That’s just wrong. Ice changes the texture of the drink.
“Nah, I leave that at home.” A half smile tips his lips up, and I find myself smiling back for a beat before I force myself to tamp it down.
He settles in the chair across from my desk, chewing on his cheek.
“Why are you here?” It comes out blunter than I anticipated, but I’m not about to beat around the bush. The sooner we unravel whatever’s bothering him, the sooner he’ll get out of my hair.
“Elsy’s worried about you,” he blurts.
I blink.
“She’s worried about you, and she’s asked me to look out for you.” He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I told her I would, but I know you don’t want me hanging around all the time. So this is me checking in, doing my due diligence, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
“I’m fine.”
So what if I had a panic attack last night and another two days ago? I survived. So what if the skin picking is getting worse and almost all of my natural eyelashes are missing? I look better wearing falsies anyway.
I crack my knuckles, first the top joint of each finger and then the second.
The snap, crackle, pop is soothing as I run through each finger on my left hand, then my right, and finish by lacing my fingers together and turning them out.
Then I crack my left elbow and my right wrist, relieving the pressure of built-up synovial fluid.
My left knee clicks, and I pop that, and all that’s left is my right ankle, and as I twist my foot to get the proper angle, the satisfying snap that echoes in the quiet room is like a shotgun shattering the silence.
Through it all, Nick watches me with trepidation. He doesn’t say anything, though. I can’t decide if I want him to address it or ignore it.
Elsy and Vanessa are used to this. In times of stress, I fall back on my familiar repetitive behaviors, and they’re as comforting as they are debilitating.
“I’m fine,” I repeat. “Tell Elsy whatever you want, but she doesn’t need to worry about me.”
“You guys have been friends for a long time,” he comments without inflection.
“Since grad school.”
We met at Stanford and instantly clicked. She’s been my ride or die ever since. Vanessa and I were on the lacrosse team together at Michigan, and when I introduced them, they got along like a house on fire.
I moved to Boston for my doctoral program and she went to Chicago for a few years, and when she relocated here, we moved in together again.
We were inseparable. The three of us shared an apartment in Cambridge for two years—until Van moved in with Sven, and then Elsy got a job in Austin, and I finally downsized to a one-bedroom.
As glad as I am that she’s my sister-in-law now, I miss when she was my best friend. There’s been a distance between us ever since she moved to Texas, and it’s not purely from the miles keeping us apart. We’re different.
It’s not only that I’m keeping secrets from her. If she knew her precious Mitch was the guy I gushed over three years ago… I don’t know who she’d kill first, him or me, but there would definitely be bloodshed.
If my brother knew… Nick would be lucky to escape with his limbs intact.
“She’s a good friend,” I add when he remains silent. “I appreciate that she’s worried, but she doesn’t need to be.”
He lifts his hands in innocence. “Hey, I’m just the messenger.”
Even though my entire job is preventing concussions and dealing with their aftermath, I kind of want to smash his brains against the wall until they melt out of his ears.
Intrusive thought. Unnecessarily violent.
Clearing my throat, I turn back to him. “I’ll touch base with her.”
“Thanks.” He pauses. “Are you okay?”
My eyes narrow. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” he snaps.
“Then why are you asking?”
I’m not sure why I’m harping on about this. Why can’t I just leave it alone?
Nick blows out a breath. “Fuck. I don’t know. Maybe because we work together? Because we share a best friend? Because I freaking care about you as a person, and I don’t want you to—”
He cuts off abruptly.
“You know what? Forget it.” He pushes up out of the chair, at the same time my phone vibrates off the desk. Scooping it off the floor, he glances at the display and scowls as he thrusts the device in my direction. “Your boyfriend is calling.”
Confused at his sudden attitude adjustment, I take the phone, where Luke’s name flashes on the screen.
Our weekly FaceTime date isn’t scheduled for another two days, but if he has a spare few moments to chat, he isn’t shy about blowing up my phone.
I swipe to answer the call, the sound of his heavy breathing on the other end telling me he’s probably still on the treadmill.
“Hey, Lukey. I can’t talk right now. Can I call you in five minutes?”
“Of course, babe.” His voice echoes in the room. “Talk soon.”
“Don’t let me keep you from your boyfriend,” Nick snarls.
I blink a few times. “What are you talking about?”
Luke and I are friends—only friends. The unsuspecting friendship we struck up at the swim-up bar is as strong as ever.
It snuck up on me, but over the last year and a half, he’s become one of my closest confidants.
Especially since most of my friends in town have all settled into healthy, secure long-term relationships.
With Luke, I know he won’t try to sleep with me. He still flirts, but there’s no weight behind it. It’s all in good fun.
Nick opens his mouth, then closes it again and shakes his head. “Forget about it.”