Page 25 of Offside Attraction

Rhonda sat back and turned to face him, her brain stuttering over the words she could normally rattle off without a second thought. "Right, so, Reviact has a longer half-life, which means patients don't have to take it as frequently. That alone reduces the burden of daily medication adherence. Additionally, the stabilization of neurotransmitter levels helps with overall mood improvement and cognitive function, making it easier for patients to stick to their treatment plans."

Jordan nodded, his eyes flicking to hers. "And the side effects?"

Rhonda’s mouth suddenly felt like she’d taken double the recommended dose of cyclobenzaprine. She picked up her glass of water and took a sip. "In our trials, we've seen minimal side effects. Most patients experience some initial nausea or dizziness, but those symptoms typically subside within the first few weeks of treatment. The benefit-to-risk ratio is highly favourable."

The only sign that Jordan had heard her explanation was a slight tip of his head.

Rhonda clicked her laptop shut. "Cantra is offering rebates. To cover up to 50% of the cost for patients. It will be more expensive than they want. But that’s the best we can do.”

Jordan didn't answer at first, and the silence stretched between them like melted cheese. After an interminably long thirty seconds, Jordan pushed his hair off his forehead. "My sister has been in and out of rehab for years."

Rhonda blinked. Of all the things she’d imagined him saying, that wasn’t one of them. “Oh. I’m—that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

Again, silence. Rhonda’s pulse quickened as Jordan stared at the top of her closed laptop. She wanted to put an empty glass up to the side of his head and press her ear against it to get even a snippet of what was going on up there.

“She’s tried it all.” A muscle in his jaw flexed, and he dropped his arm back to the couch.

Rhonda’s skin prickled. Heat flared across her neck and into her cheeks. That was all it took. Four words and a deep sadness moving through his eyes, and Rhonda was suddenly blinking back tears.

What was wrong with her?Plenty of people shared personal things about their family or their own life after presentations like this one. Every drug she educated people on was meant to alleviate human suffering, which meant there were plenty of people struggling in the interim, waiting for new innovations.

But this was a sister.

"Can I use your washroom?" she croaked, jumping up from the coach and rounding the table before Jordan could look up and catch a glance at her red-rimmed eyes.

“Down the hall,” he said behind her, but she was already moving. She found it, first room on the left, and slipped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She leaned against the door, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

She walked to the sink and splashed water on her cheeks, hoping to shock herself back into emotional stability. Rhonda stared at her reflection in the mirror, watching the water drip from her chin.

Breathe.

Rhonda pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled back in her texts. Beginning of September. The timestamp proved what she’d already been thinking. It had been six weeks since she sent a text to Cassie and hadn’t even received a read receipt.

Jordan knew things about his sister. Currently. They seemed to have a relationship. That was good. Just because she didn’t have a relationship with her sister didn’t mean nobody else could. She needed to pull herself together.

Rhonda took two more deep breaths, stuffing that wave of emotion back into the box labelled “Family and Childhood” where she’d kept it for years. Cassie had written her off along with their parents. It was her sister’s choice, and it wasn’t personal. It all had to do withhim.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Jordan’s voice sounded from the hall.

Right.How long had she been standing there?She should’ve flushed the toilet or something, but doing it now would make him think she’d needed a long time on the toilet. So, it was either pretend she dropped the kids off at the pool or admit she had a momentary emotional breakdown because of . . . nothing.

She couldn’t decide which was worse.

Rhonda’s skin was already dry, thank you Alberta, so she straightened her shirt and shook out her curls. She was fine. Now, she only had to convince Jordan of that since he was already skeptical of her meeting Dr. Mallory. Could she blame her period? It was damn near time menstruation came in handy.

Rhonda stepped out into the hallway and paused. Jordan was leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. He looked up as she appeared, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Rhonda's heart pounded in her ears as she stood there, a different flashback screaming into her mind’s eye.

"I'm sorry about that," she whispered.

Jordan opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It was like they were both watching the same movie in real-time. Different main characters, but the same scene. The wrong hotel room.“I should probably get back . . .”

But standing in this hallway, Rhonda didn’t want to be the one to hesitate. She couldn’t give in to the slow ache building in her middle and step forward to run her hands over Jordan’s bare chest because?—

He moved so fast, Rhonda barely had time to inhale before his lips were on hers in a desperate, searching kiss. His hands grasped onto her like he was drowning and she was his life preserver. Her insides dropped out as she threaded her hands in his hair. Not damp anymore, but she didn’t care.

Her back hit the wall, and she gasped as his hips ground against hers. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you at the bar,” Jordan rasped. His hands were everywhere, kneading the curve of her waist, sliding under her shirt to splay against her bare skin.

“Yeah.” Rhonda sucked in a shaky breath, her body arching into him as his fingers fumbled over the clasp of her bra. “You look hot in scrubs.”

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