Page 35 of Doctor Enemy

“I haven’t even called the insurance company yet,” admits Lori. “I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I just– What does it matter to you?” she asks, hotly.

“Just because you have a problem with me doesn’t mean that I need to have one with you. We could get along just fine if you weren’t always looking for a fight.”

Lori looks away from me, scowling.

I glance at the clock, then sit down on the edge of her bed. Reaching out, I take hold of her hand. I’m mindful of the IV still taped into the back of it. “Lori, what are you going to do if Olivia can’t drive you? Get a cab?” I say it with a touch of sarcasm in my voice.

She blanches. “I can’t do that.”

“Obviously.”

And we both know why.

Lori woke up screaming the second night that she was in the hospital. I’ve never been in so much as a fender bender, but I know that her accident itself was described as brutal. She’s not just embarrassed. She’s terrified.

My lips purse. I brush my thumb carefully over the edge of the tape holding the IV needle in place. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

Lori asks, “Why would you do that?”

“Because, you’re the one who has a problem with me, not the other way around. Didn’t I just say that?” I tell her. “And because Glenda owes me a favor. I’ll make sure that she has me scheduled to be off when you check out.”

Lori’s gaze is almost distrustful. In the end, she relents. “Okay.”

“Problem solved. I’ll mark it on my calendar.” With one last brush of my thumb over her hand, I stand up. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”

“Like pulling teeth,” says Lori, almost playfully.

There’s a strange look in her eyes. Something that makes me think maybe that kiss wasn’t just influenced by her nightmare.

What was it she said that made her hate me so much? My supposed long nights out drinking, and the fact that I was always going home with other women.

I can’t help but wonder exactly why those two things make her so mad… And I can’t help but think that in three days’ time, I might be given the chance to find out.

Chapter twelve

Lori

“Youlooklikeyouhave something on your mind,” says Cara, when she drops down into the reclining chair by my bedside.

“And don’t try to tell me it’s the recipe that they’re talking about.” She jerks a thumb toward the TV hanging on the wall. “I don’t know why you watch this stuff. Look me dead in the eyes and tell me that you do any kind of cooking when you’re home.”

“I never cook,” I say, with a laugh. “I like the contests. And it seems like a lot of work to try and change the channel.”

Cara snatches up the remote. “Not for me.”

She starts flicking through the channels while I idly watch. She settles on an action movie of some sort but turns the volume down so that the explosions don’t totally cover up our conversation.

“Now that we have something decent on, are you going to tell me what you’re thinking about?” Cara puts the remote back down and settles into her chair.

My lips purse. “Have I been a bitch?”

“Clarify?” Cara asks, brows raised.

I don’t want to. And I certainly don’t want to do it while looking at her. So I stare at the TV instead, and I ask her, “Have I been a bitch… to Lockwood?”

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