Page 82 of The Doctor's Truth

The two-story mansion overlooks the beach.

The whole place is enshrouded by tall hedges that make it impossible for anyone to look in. I didn’t realize what an effect those hedges had on my psyche until years later when I started meditating in earnest.

When I was in a bad place or feeling vulnerable, I’d close my eyes and imagine myself surrounded by hedges.

It was privacy. Security. But it did something else important: it kept people and things out.

The King family was local, but we weren’t one of the locals. We were better than the locals. The hedges kept us apart from everything.

You get a distorted view of yourself—and your place in the world—when you live in an ivory tower.

But there are consequences to being that high up, too. The fall is steep.

I pull the car up to the hedges and punch in the security code. The iron gate slowly swings open, letting us in.

I glance in the rearview mirror. Donovan is staring hard out the window.

“You okay, bud?” I ask him.

“Great,” he says, but his jaw is tight, like it’s taking everything in him to keep it together.

Note to self: maybe tone down the potency of the brownies next time.

“Why does it smell like sex in here?” Donovan asks suddenly from the back.

The noise that leaves my throat is halfway between an “oh” and a groan. I grab the coffee mug culprit from the console and shove it under my chair.

“I’m not going to ask,” Donovan says. “I really don’t want to know.”

“Hey,” Kenzi says. “How’re you feeling?”

Her fingers slip over the back of my neck. I shiver. That’s a secret hotspot of mine—the sensation of nails lightly trailing up the nape of my neck sends a hot lick of pleasure through me.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

“Honestly? A little nervous.”

Kenzi drops her head against the car seat. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“What’ve you told them?” Donovan asks from the back seat, suddenly sounding on edge.

“Just that I’m bringing a couple friends over.”

“That’s good,” Kenzi says. “I think we should keep that line. No reason to make things weird with…hey, Mom, Dad, these are the two people I’m fucking.”

“Yeah,” Donovan agrees. “Let’s not.”

I bite the inside of my lip. I’m not great at keeping secrets—but they’re right. To open that jar of worms would invite too many questions.

But it doesn’t feel right to keep them a secret, either. It makes this feels dirty.

Which it’s not. It’s beautiful.

“If you’re sure,” I say, but even I know I don’t sound convincing.

I don’t know if Kenzi realizes the effect she has on me, because her nails are still absently tracing circles over the back of my neck.

I’ve got to stop her before I pop a boner in front of my parents, so I gently remove her hand and press an affectionate kiss to the backs of her fingers instead.

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