Page 95 of The Doctor's Truth

Something inside me unlocks. He is brave, and bold, and fucking insane, and I want to be insane with him.

Donovan steps in beside me. “Truth or dare?” he asks.

Donovan and I glance at each other, and the look in his eyes is all I need to know that we’ve both come to the same decision.

“Dare,” we both say simultaneously.

We ditch our shoes. Donovan drops his blazer, and I lose my shawl as we run at top speed into the ocean. The second the water hits my legs, it feels like shards of ice against my skin. It sucks the breath completely out of my lungs, and I cry out—a sharp, shrill noise.

“It’s better once you’re in!” Jason calls out, engulfed to his chest. “I promise!”

I trust him. I force myself through the initial blast of pain and shock and—

I take the leap. I jump into the swells until I’m up to my shoulders in it.

And Jason is right. Once you’re in? It’s not so bad.

It’s freeing. My clothes cling to me uncomfortably, but I feel invincible.

Donovan is in the water with us. He’s catching his breath, but his eyes are alive.

I swim out to Jason. He grins at me. “You good, Trouble?” he asks.

“Never been better,” I tell him, and I mean it.

I don’t know how long we stay in the water. But I feel amazing while I’m in it. We’re wild animals. We’re unbound, like points of light in the sky. We’re free.

It only hurts when we get out, and the chill in the air eats through my soaked dress. The three of us grab the clothes we’ve left scattered across the shore. We dash to the car and jump in—wet and sandy, shivering and laughing. Immediately, Jason blasts the heat, and I stretch my fingers over the vent. My hands are bright red, fingers numb.

“H-h-holy shit,” I say between chattering teeth. “That was insane.”

Donovan reaches between the seat dividers and clasps Jason heartily on the shoulder. “Some endurance training, Phelps. Was that some special ops Doctors Without Borders training they put you through?”

At that, Jason winces slightly. His hair is wild at his forehead, his wet shirt plastered to his chest, nipples peaked with the cold. “So…in the theme of honesty,” he says. “I never joined.”

Donovan gawks. “Hold on—do I have frostbite in my ears?”

Jason leans back in his seat, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. I can see the silhouette of him—the sharpness of his chin, the bob in his pronounced Adam’s apple as he speaks.

He starts: “The Doctors Without Borders bit…I made it up for the Dr. Mazie show. I wish I had joined. But the truth is, they asked me what I’d been doing and I just panicked. I made up a story I made up so I wouldn’t have to tell anyone where I really was.”

“Where did you go?” I ask.

“After I finalized the divorce with Nadine, I felt…like a failure. I rented a hotel room in Jersey and didn’t contact anyone. For weeks. I drank myself stupid, slept, and watched Die Hard like…twenty times.”

He can’t look at either of us. He exhales a deep sigh. “I just didn’t want to feel anything. My heart hurt. I was so embarrassed. I couldn’t face my family. I couldn’t face anyone. I’ve literally never failed at anything. Second place is as good as last place in my family’s book. Divorce is fucking unheard of among the Kings. I didn’t want to be a loser.”

For a second, neither Donovan nor I say anything; we just let the hum of the car heater fill the empty space. Jason looks so vulnerable right now—cracked open under the moonlight—and my chest aches for him.

Finally, Donovan returns his hand to Jason’s shoulder and gives the other man a squeeze. “Jason,” he says seriously. “I’ve got something to say…and I want you to really hear me, okay?”

Jason nods. “Okay…”

“As someone who has spent his entire lifetime as a loser…it’s about time you joined us.”

There it is. That hopeful grin slowly returns to Jason’s face. “Yeah? I’m part of the losers’ club?”

“You’re damn right,” I concur. “Trust me. It’s way more fun here.”

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