Page 49 of First Comes Forever

“What?” I ask.

“Is your scar raised, larger, or darker on the side that hurts?”

I shrug. “I guess? I’m not sure.”

“Keloid scars can develop over years. It could be that your scar tissue is sensitive. You could try hydrocortisone treatment to reduce the inflammation and help with appearance, but the first order of business is making sure there’s no infection.”

“How do I make sure of that?”

After setting Carson down and moving to the sink, Alex lifts the faucet handle and proceeds to wash his hands. The citrus scent of my grapefruit dish soap wafts around the room.

“I’ll check for you,” he says over the hum of the running faucet. He washes his hands so meticulously, rubbing the suds into his knuckles and cuticles. Just like a surgeon. “I can get you into my practice next week. My nurse can take care of the treatment. It’s just three shots over the course of six months.”

I twist my lips, debating.Hm, if I had to choose between IVF, or pretty tits.“How much does that cost? I don’t think my insurance will cover something like that.”

He shakes his hands out in the sink to dispel the excess water, then reaches for the roll of paper towels I unpacked. “No need to involve insurance. We can do it for free. Any friend of Adam’s is a friend of mine.”

“You’re a godsend. Thank you. I should’ve gotten these done with you.”

“Accurate. I am indeed the best.” He winks and then points to the bedroom. “Okay, let’s see what we’re dealing with. Bra off, but you can just lift your shirt. By the way, I’d recommend wearing a bra without underwire when you’re in discomfort like this.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Adam squalls, his face growing red and frozen in mild horror. “How do you—” He stops abruptly and sucks in a breath. “I don’t think—” He inhales and exhales again, trying to control his shaky voice. “Don’t you feel like this is a little inappropriate?”

“You know I’m a surgeon, right?” Alex asks with a smirk. “I have a license to practice medicine and everything.”

“Yeah…but…” Adam looks frantically around the kitchen like he’s going to find the perfect excuse sitting in a cabinet. “You’re not at your practice.”

Alex tries to contain his smile at his brother’s obvious jealousy. “Amani, I have that special kind of license that means I’m a doctor no matter where I am, but if you’re uncomfortable, you can call my office and book an appointment.”

I raise my brows. “You’re literally right here. If you don’t mind, I’d rather know if there’s a problem sooner than later.”

“Great.” Alex gestures to the bedroom. “Let’s pop the hood and see what’s going on.”

I take a few steps toward the bedroom, then spin around and lock onto Adam’s wide, crazed eyes. He looks a little ill. “I won’t if it bothers you,” I offer.

His Adam’s apple bulges as he swallows hard. He balls up his hand and presses his knuckles against his lips. “Why would it bother me?” he murmurs into his fist.

I shrug. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Yep,” he grunts out.

Once I’m in the bedroom and Alex shuts the door behind me, I unclasp my bra and slip the straps through my sleeves, then yank up my shirt.

“Okay, this is nothing too serious,” Alex says, ducking his head and examining my scar. “I don’t see signs of infection, but it does look like you have more scar tissue on one side than the other.” He holds two fingers out but pauses an inch away from my breast. “Is this okay or are you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s fine. Go for it.”

Alex presses firmly along the length of my scar and I wince. “All right, there’s a little inflammation. Let’s get that under control and we can talk about treatments. The hydrocortisone shots will make a noticeable difference, but laser resurfacing is also becoming a popular option.” He glances at me again. “May I make sure your implants are still in the proper place before I recommend any type of treatment.”

“Sure thing, Dr. Alex.”

“Hm, I like that. Dr. Alex makes me sound less old than Dr. Montgomery,” he mumbles as he presses against the top of my chest. It’s when he cups the underside of my breast that there’s a loud knock on the door, making us both flinch.

“Carson needs to be changed,” Adam calls through the door. “Are the diapers in there?”

“Nope,” I call back. “His diaper bag is right smack in the middle of the living room. You can’t miss it.” I chuckle at his weak excuse.

“Fine,” Adam grumbles through the door.

---