Page 73 of The Doctor's Truth

It’s been two weeks and three days since New Year’s Day (but who’s counting?), and still Donovan, Kenzi, and I haven’t actually defined what this is. Sure, our schedules don’t help—Kenzi rarely gets a second to herself, and Donovan and I are nearly always at the hospital. When the three of us do hook up, it’s a secret, private thing, something that’s ours and no one else’s.

I guess I like that aspect about it—having something that’s mine. But there’s a large part of me that wants to scream about it from the rooftops.

Maybe it’d be okay if my dad found out. Maybe it’s better to let this secret out than crush it deep down inside.

At least, those are the words I use to reassure myself to keep my heart from launching out of my chest.

When I exit the pool area, my father is waiting for me. I thank him for the towel and pat myself dry. He’s wearing a pale blue button-up and dress slacks underneath his white coat, and I feel exposed in only my swim trunks, but I try to shake the feeling off.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“I’ve been talking with one of the producers on the Dr. Mazie Show. They saw the promo images, and they’re ready to pull the trigger on this. But there’s a couple details we need to discuss first.”

“Okay…”

“Come over to the house. Friday. We’ll have dinner.”

I rub the back of my neck with the towel. “I, uh—have something going on this weekend. With a couple of friends.”

“Bring them. It won’t take long. You know Clara cooks for a small army.”

“Sure.”

“Seven. Don’t be late.”

* * *

I dry off. Put my uniform back on. And walk into the general care unit—to an incredibly irate Donovan.

“All good?” I ask.

He’s leaning against the receptionist desk, bitching with one of the nurses. When he sees me, his scowl deepens.

“Ask your friend,” he says and then tosses his patient file on the desk. I glance at the name. NICK THATCHER.

Of course he’s giving Donovan trouble.

“I’ve got this,” I tell him. I take the file. “Which room?”

Donovan lets out a tight sigh. “This way.”

I follow him to the exam room. We go inside, and there’s Nick, sitting on the table.

We were tight. For a long time. He’s an asshole 90 percent of the time, but when he cares about you, he’s about as loyal as they come, and I can respect that in a guy. But we’ve grown apart since—especially since—my divorce from Nadine.

Which is funny, because she never liked him, either.

The first thing I notice about him is he looks like he hasn’t slept. His hair is scraggly, and his eyes look bloodshot. When he sees me, he grins and lifts a palm. “My man!”

“Sup, brother?” I clasp hands with him, keeping it friendly, even as I can feel Donovan’s disapproval behind me. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah, healthy as a horse. Just getting my yearly.”

“Well, you’re in good hands.” I pat Donovan on the shoulder. “Donovan’s the best doctor in the hospital.”

Nick’s smile doesn’t drop, but his eyes harden. “Nah, man,” he says. “He’s not touching me.”

“What’s the problem?” I push.

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