Page 86 of Forbidden Game

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Dr. Reston.”

“Right.” I nod.

Until I start to get a grip on reality and comprehend that there are two men—one of whom I do not know—inside my apartment whom I never let in. At least, I don’t think I did. The last few hours are hazy.

Has it even been hours?

What time is it?

Who is this man really?

“Are you sure she’s going to be fine?” Parker looks at me with concern, and I realize that I’ve just been having a conversation with myself while nodding blankly into dead space.

“Are you really doubting me after I flew all the way here, Covington?” Dr. Reston reaches down and zips up the black duffle at his feet. “Just make sure to keep her hydrated with lots of rest. If she’s been sick for four days, I can’t prescribe her anything, anyway. She’s fought through the worst of it. Which, unfortunately, seems to have been worse than most of the cases I’ve seen this season.” He cocks his head at me. “You really should sleep more. Exhaustion makes you immunocompromised.”

This doctor has awful bedside manners.

“I’ll send you my bill.” He hikes the duffle over his board shoulder and claps Parker on the back. “Good luck at your championship.”

Dr. Reston leaves the room before I can blink, his heavy footsteps echoing throughout my apartment.

Right.

My apartment.

“God, you scared me, Syd.” Parker brushes my sweaty bangs out of my eyes and despite myself, I sink into his touch.

Except, now that I think about it…my bangs aren’t sweaty.

They’re wet.

Like I took a shower.

I don’t remember a shower.

Do I?

My brows furrow and I look down at my body.

Now that there isn’t some mountain-man doctor in my bedroom to distract me, everything is starting to come into focus.

The main one being that my clothes are not the clothes I was wearing when I passed out., And the more I shift on my bed, I realize my sheets are also not the same sheets I put on last weekend.

What the heck happened?

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Syd?” Parker’s voice breaks my spiral.

There are a million questions swimming in my brain, but I settle on the one floating closest to the surface. “How did you get into my apartment?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that you left it unlocked?”

I narrow my eyes at him as I try to think back to when I last got home. It was just after Crime Night, and I was in a world of pain after putting on a smile for hours at Lee’s. I definitely locked it.

I always lock it…especially after Crime Night.

Wait.

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