Page 8 of Last Chance Love

“Great,” I said, thinking it wasn’t all that great. It felt like another one of her tests that might not be tests at all.

“And maybe you can stop by the clinic afterward,” she said.

I hesitated as we reached the door. “For what?”

The smile she flashed me was knowing. “Why, to check up on Riley, of course. I’m sure you’re curious to see how he’s doing.”

“I had…planned on it when I had the time,” I said slowly.

“I’m sure Reed is taking good care of him,” she said casually, walking out the door with a chuckle.

Oh, I could grow to very much dislike that woman.

REED

“You havegotto be kidding me,” came the outraged muttering from the exam room I stood outside. “There’s not enough water in the world to help me swallow this.”

That made me chuckle, and I leaned around the doorway. “Having problems?”

The large black man on the exam table glared at me, holding up the packaging he’d been given earlier. “First off, why is there a pill in a goddamn popsicle bag? And also, how the fuck am I supposed to swallow this shit?”

“Dom,” I said carefully, ensuring my features were as serious as possible so the poor guy didn’t think I was laughing at him. “You’re not supposed to swallow it.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do with it?” he grumbled, flipping it around and peering at it in confusion.

“Did you read the instructions?”

“What instructions? It’s a pill!”

“On the box. The box the suppository came in.”

“Oh, I see. You’re going to start throwing words at me now,” he grumbled, fumbling around for the box. I watched as he finally remembered where he’d thrown it and grabbed it from the small trash can. “Is that the type of med?”

“Mmm, sort of. But not the name of the medicine,” I said, watching him with private amusement.

I usually wouldn’t play games because it was a bad idea…especially when you were treating felons. But Dom had been coming to us for weeks, and I’d got used to him and him to me. He was a good sport about most things, which was obvious considering his best friend was Elliot, the resident troublemaker and little shit.

“Here,” he said, apparently finding the instructions and reading silently, his lips moving as he read. I watched his eyes widen, and he looked up, lips parting. “No fucking way!”

“It’s not difficult,” I told him, leaning on the doorway and chuckling. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“No fucking way!”

“Or if you want, I can show you how to?—”

“Reed, don’t you dare.”

“Or, if you want, I can do it for you.”

“Like hell,” he grumbled, glaring at the packaging. “I know everyone here wants a piece of this. But you’re not getting it that easily.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not really my type, Dom.”

“You know, that’s what E tells me all the time, but I’m not falling for it,” he said with a huff, shaking his head.

It was a well-known fact to anyone who paid attention that Elliot batted for the team decked out in rainbows. He was quite open about it. Honestly, I thought that was pretty impressive, considering the attitudes prison culture had toward people like him…and me. From what I’d heard, though, he hadn’t been as open about it in prison, which was smart. Perhaps here at the ranch, he felt more comfortable in his own skin, willing to be himself, confident his back was covered.

Which was true for the administration. I’d yet to see them handle that sort of thing with anything but grace and acceptance despite the religious overtones that punctured different parts of the ranch. It was Dom anyone with a bad idea had to worry about. The guy gave Elliot hell and then some, but whoever decided they wanted to mess with Elliot had better pray to whoever they believed in because Dom was fiercely protective.

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