Page 22 of The History Between Us

Colt Bishop

Coming to a stop in front of the clinic, my dad doesn’t bother putting the car in park. “I’m going to run a few errands, but I’ll be back to pick you up by the time you’re finished.”

I unbuckle my seatbelt with a nod. “Sounds good, thanks.” Climbing out of my dad’s truck, I offer him a quick wave before I head into the office.

I have a follow-up appointment with William this morning. My first physical therapy session was last week, and this is to check the progress on that, I guess.

Once I’m checked in, I have a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting room. There is one other person in here, but that’s it. It’s still pretty early, the office having just opened. If I wasn’t in such a sour mood, I’d probably be excited, knowing I’m about to see William. It’s going to be the first time since I played footsie with him at the diner, and something about messing with him, riling him up even just a little bit,brings me joy.

I’m trying to not let the injury bring me down, but it’s hard. I should be well on my way to qualifying for finals again. On to the next stop, the next rodeo. But instead, I’m stuck here, unable to work out, train, or do any-fucking-thing, and I’m sick of it. Why me? Why’d this have to happen to me? Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I found the footage of the injury on the internet, and I’ve started obsessively watching it. Over and over, I’ll replay it, pinpointing the exact moment everything went wrong.

Last night, I was scrolling through social media, and I saw some rodeo coverage on a couple of my buddies’ pages. It’s such a weird juxtaposition; the happiness and pride I feel for them, seeing them work their asses off and do well, while also swallowing down the bitterness that comes from knowing I should be out there too. I wish I hadn’t seen those photos because it’s done nothing but reignite all the feelings I’ve been trying to tamp down.

“Colt?” Glancing up, I meet Meg’s gaze. She’s smiling warmly at me, and I try to return the gesture, but I’m sure it looks forced. “If you want to follow me back,” she says.

After she checks my weight, we settle into a room toward the back. I shrug out of my jacket and set it on the chair in the corner before climbing up onto the bed.

“How are we feeling this morning?” Meg asks, taking a seat in the swivel chair in front of the computer. She swipes her card over the reader, unlocking it.

“Fine.” My one-word answer comes out clipped. My shoulder is on the sore side this morning, probably from overdoing it on the stretches last night after I saw those pictures, but like hell am I about to tell her that.

“Incision site is looking good?” she asks, clicking away onthe keyboard. “No redness or swelling?”

“Nope. Looking good.”

Meg asks me a few more questions before she rises off her chair and crosses the room. We’re quiet as she checks my vitals. Finishing up, she inputs all of her responses on the computer before standing once more and glancing over at me. “Okay, Dr. Braylon will be in momentarily.”

My brows clash together. “Dr. Braylon?” I repeat. “No, Dr. Andino is my primary care doctor.”

Looking as confused as I feel, she walks back over to the computer and scans her card once more. After a few moments, she says, “It looks like care has been transferred over to Dr. Braylon. Were you not notified?”

“Obviously not,” I grit out, realizing a little too late how harsh that came out. “Can I speak to Dr. Andino, please?”

“He’s not in the office right now,” she offers, looking apologetic.

Not wanting to cause a scene when I’m already feeling irritable, I nod. “That’s okay. Thanks, Meg.”

With a nod, she offers me a small smile before exiting through the door.

Why would he switch me over to Dr. Braylon? And without telling me to boot. Was he really that pissed by me playing a little footsie?What an asshole.

A few minutes later, a knock sounds at the door before it’s pushed open. Dr. Braylon steps inside, closing the door behind him as he regards me with a warm grin. “Morning, Colt.”

I don’t know Dr. Braylon all that well; I think he moved here after med school, but he can’t be much older than me. He seems like a nice enough guy, but again, I don’t know a whole lot about him.

I tip my chin up at him by way of greeting as he sits in the swivel chair and scans his badge to unlock the screen. He’s quiet for a moment as he appears to read through my chart, the silence grating my nerves.

“Where’s Dr. Andino?” I blurt out.

Gaze darting over to meet mine, he looks confused. “He’s not in the office yet.”

“He’s my doctor.” In the back of my mind, I’m aware that I’m behaving like a petulant child who’s not getting his way, but something about this entire situation is annoying the fuck out of me.

Dr. Braylon’s brows pinch together. “Oh, I’m sorry, Colt. I figured you would’ve been notified about the switch, but in an effort to lighten Dr. Andino’s workload, we moved a couple patients over to me. I thought you knew.”

“No, I did not know.”

Dr. Braylon glances at the computer screen, then back at me, his lips turned down into a frown. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but his lips open and close a few times like he’s trying to find the right words to calm the situation. Not wanting to cause a huge fuss, I blow out a breath.

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