Page 2 of The Doctor's Simple Life

And no, I’m not overconfident. I know exactly how good I am. I’m going to win this game.

He launches the first ball at me, and I have to move fast to parry it back. But when the first point goes to me, hearing Nathan call out the score is like music to my ears. I just have to carry this momentum through.

I strike an ace shot at him, followed by a long rally. My point. His point. His brow is dripping with sweat. I’m sure mine looks much the same. Mikey slicks back his hair, taking deep breaths as to try not to look too winded, but I can see how rattled he is.

I win the first set. He wins the second and the third.

We’re playing best of five, so the pressure is on for the fourth set.

Taking advantage of us both being tired, I smash the ball as hard as I can and grin as I watch it sail past him, taking us to a tie.

Just a few more points and I can go home with the satisfaction of knowing that tomorrow, Mikey will be getting in his car and driving to the middle of nowhere.

It’s a hard battle, both of us scoring point after point, tying and clawing back, getting advantage after advantage, but not quite having enough to win.

“Getting tired yet, old man?” I grin across the net.

“Not as tired as you’re about to be,” Mikey hits back.

“You know you can give up any time.”

Mikey raises both eyebrows. “You’d better watch out, young man. Good looks won’t get you anywhere in a small town. There’s no one pretty enough for you there anyway.”

A shiver runs down my spine as I imagine women with crooked teeth and outdated hairstyles.

The worst part is I probably could get any of those girls. I’m probably the best-looking guy that they would ever have seen.

And that’s how he gets me.

I score another advantage, then lazily rally his next few shots until he surprises me with an attack that I hardly see coming. I hit my next one out, and then, like he’s found the last of his reserves of energy, Mikey slams the ball back at me.

It bounces.

I reach out with my racket. I run for it, harder than I’ve ever run.

But it bounces right under my arm and carries on over the line.

Our friends erupt into applause and whooping. I stare back at the ball.

“And that’s game to Mikey!” Nathan calls out, and the growing horror of what’s just happened rises in me. Just what have I agreed to?

There’s no use in throwing a tantrum now though, even if I want to. I still have my image to maintain.

And that means I can’t afford to be a sore loser.

I walk over to the net and hold out my hand. “Good game,” I say.

Mikey saunters over and takes my hand. “You played well, but not well enough. I’ll get everything set tonight. And first thing Monday morning, I’ll expect to see you in my hospital.”

“Hey.” I shrug. “This is going to be easy.” I stick my nose up in the air nonchalantly as everyone stares at me. “A break in the country will be fine. It’ll be refreshing to get away from all of this. What am I possibly going to struggle with? I’m not going to have any problems at all.”

Nobody seems to believe me, least of all myself. But I don’t want to be accused of being a coward. I’ll face this with dignity.

As we start filtering away from the tennis court, everyone’s abuzz with imagining how I’m going to react tomorrow when I show up in Silverbell. I brush it off, squaring my shoulders and puffing out my chest. But the truth is, I couldn’t want to do this less.

The truth is, I don’t think I can do this at all.

CHAPTER 2

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