Page 39 of The Backup Plan

“Temporarily.”

He pushes off the truck—older but well taken care of—and bridges the space between us. “Need help?”

“I’ve got it,” I say automatically.

He doesn’t argue. He just takes it from my hands like it weighs nothing.

“Lucas—”

“Relax,” he says. “This has nothing on a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound lineman with a personal vendetta and a bonus tied to how many sacks he can make.”

I laugh. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

He arches a brow and makes a point of switching the suitcase from his right to his left arm. “Doc, if this is your idea of dangerous activity, I think we’re going to be just fine.”

“Mm-hmm. Keep telling yourself that,” I say as we walk through the complex gate together.

We move in comfortable silence down the tree-lined pathway, up the stairs toward the second-floor units, and then inside the very welcome, air-conditioned hallway.

I motion to the right when we come to a split in the hall, and he moves in front of me as the path narrows.

Staring at his back, it’s impossible to avoid the question I’ve wondered all day. Why did he help me last night?

Is the why really relevant though?

“This really isn’t necessary,” I say. “I’m sure you have a million other things to do considering I heard you just got to town too.”

He shrugs. “Not the first time I’ve shown up the first day of camp without everything figured out.” He pauses and looks. “Which door?”

“The last one on the right.”

“Huh,” he says with the lift of his brow as he sets my suitcase down in front of it but doesn’t let go of it.

“Can I ask you something?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

He stills and then nods. “Should I be worried?” He chuckles. “Sure. Ask away, Doc.”

I hesitate. “Why did you help me?”

His shoulders hitch once the subject we’ve been politely dancing around is out in the open. He doesn’t answer right away though. Instead, he emits a slow, steady exhale like he knows his answer matters.

“I may have a reputation for not giving a fuck,” he finally says. “But if I see something wrong, I fix it.” His jaw tightens as my stomach churns. “Last night wasn’t . . . right. And you clearly weren’t okay.”

A dozen questions fill my head. Was I that incoherent? Do you think I really would have gone with the man? How did—

“I was worried for your safety,” he adds.

The words land way heavier than they should.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

He nods like those two words don’t need to be said.

“I’ve spent all day wondering what if you hadn’t stepped in. What would have happened. Not exactly an easy thing to process while trying to start a new job and not vomit in the process.”

“For what it’s worth, you pulled it off,” he says and then continues, “I didn’t know you were a doctor. It made me feel a little stupid that I offered you my googled medical advice.”

“Well, at least you didn’t empty your guts in front of a total stranger who then becomes someone you have to work with,” I say. “I win in the feeling stupid department.”