Page 72 of The Backup Plan

“No. I do. Mistake made. It won’t happen again.”

I scrunch my nose in frustration. “You’re making something that didn’t happen more difficult than it needs to be,” I say in exasperation.

“And what exactly happened, Emery?” His voice is low, even, and asking way more questions than the one he voices.

Did you want to kiss me too?

Did you feel that connection?

You’re avoiding me because you did, aren’t you?

I glance around before forcing myself to meet his eyes again. “There was a moment that we got caught up in. In the noise and the . . . things we shouldn’t have been caught up in. And for both of our sakes, that just can’t . . .happen.”

The muscle in his jaw pulses as we hold each other’s stares. “Moments happen all the time, Doc,” he says quietly. “I thought you made the move here to live, not to just work through things.”

The space feels so much smaller.

The air feels too full. Too heavy. Too . . . suffocating.

He’s right. I won’t tell him he’s right, but he is. But by the same token . . . “This is not keeping things where they need to be kept,” I whisper.

“You ready for me, Doc?”

I startle at the sound of James Nixon’s voice as he steps into the room. The smile on my face feels plastered there as I turn toward him. “I sure am. I just finished up with Hale here. I’m ready for you.”

It’s so much easier to breathe with this space between us. I make a concentrated effort to spray and then wipe down the table where Lucas had been sitting.

“Please tell me this is where miracle fixes happen because I’m in need of one,” Nixon says.

“Wrong department,” I tease. “I was hoping I wouldn’t be seeing you. I’m sorry that I am.”

“It’s all good,” he says. “Not the first time. Not the last time.”

“Injuries—pain—always happen,” Lucas says from his spot in the corner where he’s collecting his stuff. “It’s how you come back from them that matters.”

I look up from the table. His eyes are telling me he’s talking about so much more than what it sounds like.

Nixon squints. “Are we talking about my knee?”

“Yes,” I say, although another glance at Lucas says we’re not.

“There are always restrictions with injuries,” Lucas says. “But I’ve found in my career there are ways to get around them.”

“Perfect. You’ll have to show me,” Nixon says, oblivious to the alternate conversation happening here.

“I’m pretty strict with my protocols,” I say and pat the table for Nixon to jump up onto.

“Protocols are . . . so black and white,” Lucas says as he steps toward the door. “Sometimes you have to see how it feels and go from there.” He nods at Nixon. “Right, Doc?”

I look up from where I’m pulling up Nixon’s scans on my tablet to meet Lucas’s eyes. His jaw twitches like he’s fighting a smile.

“Anything else, Hale? It’s Nixon’s turn now.”

“Nope. I’ll make sure from here on out to keep things where they need to be kept.”

“Huh?” Nixon asks.

“It’s just Hale being Hale,” I mutter.