Page 17 of Dr. Brandt

“You know, I’m an idiot.” I smiled at him, hoping that would get me off the hook. “If you’d like, I can buy you dinner for your trouble, but Warren is right. I need to head back to—”

“Fuck that shit,” Cameron responded. “Pardon my directness, but Warren is a prick. If he weren’t, he’d be thrilled that the doctor you searched out is willing to help you.” He frowned, “You have a car?”

“I have an Uber app,” I smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over me, hearing Cameron confirm I wasn’t entirely out of my mind for doing this—and that Warren was a prick.

“Well, no need for Uber,” he said, dramatically raising his hand toward the entrance of his office. “I’m here, and I think you’ll like the car I’m driving to get your ass to your fiancé and son before they jump the next flight out of here.”

Usually, I would have given Cameron a hard time for whatever hundred-thousand-dollar sports car he was driving, but my mind was preoccupied with my fiancé’s text.

“Why wouldn’t he have called me?” I said after Cam and I were in his car, pulling out onto the street as though we’d just driven onto a racetrack.

“That I can’t answer for you,” Cam responded, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror, most likely checking to see if a cop was on his ass for nearly running a red light.

“I’m sorry,” I answered with a sigh.

“Never apologize,” Cam said smoothly, making the anxiety that’d been building inside me, quiet down.

I smiled over at the familiar way he was driving. One hand on the stick shift of the Porsche, the other gripping the steering wheel, and eyes set with a hunger to chew up the miles on this freeway and close the distance between the hospital and us in record speed.

“Still trying to set records in sports cars?” I asked, soaking up this moment of familiarity.

“Always,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and sliding into the carpool lane. “You still telling people how to drive while they set important driving records?”

I softly chuckled. It felt nice to have someone talk to me without being patronizing for the first time in a while.

“Important driving records?”

“You heard me,” he said with a flashy grin I remembered well. “The last time you and I were on this freeway together, I hit one hundred and eighty. This time I plan to—”

“Get us killed?” I questioned with a laugh.

“Ha,” he scoffed. “You’ve been away from me too long, Jessa.” He arched an eyebrow at me, and I would’ve started to come undone at that familiar look, but the exit was coming up for the airport, bringing me out of some college hormonal awakening and back to the reason I was in the car with Cameron in the first place.

“I have no idea where we’ll find them,” I said, seeing cars go on for miles, offloading departing passengers to their terminals.

“Use that feature on your phone known as the call button, ring that ultra-considerate man you call a fiancé, and find out where they are,” Cam said with sarcasm.

“Right,” I responded as I called Warren’s phone.

“Try again,” Cam said with some irritation after watching me stare blankly at my phone when Warren sent me to voicemail.

“Yeah?” Warren answered on my second try. “We’re walking into the airport now. Are you on your way, or are you—”

“I’m here,” I said, looking through the crowds of people for my fiancé as soon as Cameron slowed the car where I pointed. “This airline right here, Cam,” I said, trying to navigate. I suddenly spotted Warren, who made eye contact with me, then turned to walk inside.

“You did not bring that man all the way down here,” Warren snarled into the phone after I stepped out of the car and walked into the terminal, trying to find my son and him.

“No, I didn’t,” I snapped. “He brought me down here after you left me. Now, can you please walk back outside so we can talk about Dr. Brandt’s willingness to see Jackson?”

“Tell Dr. Brandt we are thankful for his willingness to see Jackson, but we’re leaving. Seriously, Jess. If he were a decent surgeon, he wouldn’t be participating in this bizarre fantasy you have, acting like the hero doctor who is coming to your rescue.”

“No one is trying to live out a fantasy, Warren,” I said. “Now, get my son outside so Cam can meet him. Hopefully, he’ll have some open days soon to give him a full evaluation after calling for records.”

“That’s the thing, Jessica,” Warren replied indignantly. “If the guy were a professional, he’d pencil you in after looking up Jackson’s records. He wouldn’t drive you to the airport in some douchey sports car, using Jackson as a ploy to prove his maturity to me.”

“This isn’t about you! Now, I’m standing in the airport right fucking now,” I growled in some voice I’d never used on Warren before. “Where the hell is my son?”

“We’re checking the bags,” he snapped. “Get up here if you want on this flight with us.”

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