Priceless (Forbidden Men #8)(102)

Brandt’s behavior was the worst, though. About a day after I came home from the hospital, he came to visit me, apologizing and telling me he was sorry for pushing me away. He told me he couldn’t just be my friend any longer and wanted to remain my boyfriend.

It had sounded good at first, too good to be true. He’d finally come around, and life could return to normal, right?

Not even close.

I swear he touched me less now than he had when he was fifteen.

He continued to tell me he loved me, and he kept me company and catered to me, giving me everything he thought I needed. But I knew...there would never be anything sexual between us again. I’d even tried giving him a hand job. The idiot had only squeezed my fingers before kissing them and telling me not to worry about it.

But how could I not worry? He was a twenty-two-year-old, virile man who’d been sexually active since he was sixteen years old. He couldn’t just go cold turkey until he died. I didn’t want that for him. How could he want it for himself?

I could tell he was already feeling the tension too. The man needed sex...eventually. He wasn’t a monk, and he couldn’t kiss around and hug on me much longer without needing a release somehow. If he kept denying himself, he was only going to grow to resent me, and maybe even cheat on me.

Okay, I doubted he’d get to that point. He’d leave before—

But I didn’t want him to leave me, either. I wanted a happy, well-adjusted boyfriend. He’d stayed with me through my condition, through my stroke, through all my self-doubts and fears. I wanted to give something back.

I just didn’t know what yet.

Sighing, I glanced at the clock on the wall before turning to my brother. “How long have we been waiting already?”

He scrubbed his face and groaned. “Almost an hour. You doing okay? Do you need anything?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Thanks. I just...I’m ready to get this appointment over with.” I was tired of doctors and doctors’ offices in general.

This was my two-week post-stroke appointment. And aside from the little minor problems that might all go away over time, I felt fine. I didn’t want to get poked and prodded and do a bunch of tests to tell me what I already knew.

“You and me both, kiddo.” Mason patted my knee just as a nurse stepped into the waiting room to call my name.

Breathing out my relief, I let Mason roll my chair into the office the nurse directed us to. It took both of them helping me to my feet to get me weighed. Then came my blood pressure, temperature, blood sample. I sat stoically as she did her thing and answered in one-word sentences when she asked her list of questions.

Then she smiled at us and told us the doctor would be right with us before she left the room.

Mason tapped my knee as soon as she was gone. “Hey? You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I started to say, only to scowl when he kept watching me with those worried blue eyes. So I changed my mind and went honest. “I’m sad, okay. I’m sad and mad that everyone is treating me like a freaking delicate flower. I hate it, and I wish everything could go back to the way it was before. But yes, physically I’m fine.”

Then I groaned and closed my eyes when I realized just how bitchy I’d been to him. “Sorry, I just—”

“No, you’re right,” Mason murmured. “We’re...we’ve all been walking around on pins and needles. That’s true. But you scared the crap out of us, kiddo. The idea of losing you rattled every single one of us. I’m sorry if it’s driving you crazy, but with some time, we’ll eventually bounce back into shape. We won’t be like this forever. I swear.”

I glanced at him, my gaze imploring. “Even Brandt?”

He sighed, and his muscles tensed. But then he nodded. “Even Brandt.”

“You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

Jaw tense, he shook his head and studied his hands before diplomatically answering, “I’m not happy with him, but...I know what he means to you, and I know he’d never purposely hurt you, so...I’m dealing with it.”

“I don’t think he’s ever going to touch me again,” I admitted glumly.

Mason, however, smiled. “Good.”

I frowned at him, about to tell him, no...not good, but the door opened and Dr. O’Hearn entered the room....followed by the nurse, plus a complete stranger.

“Miss Arnosta,” he greeted, holding out his hand to shake with me before turning to Mason to greet him. “Mr. Lowe.” Then he motioned to the others. “This is my consultant, Dr. Theler, and of course you know Sheila.”

My gaze darted between the three before I turned my confused gaze to Mason. He looked just as stumped as I felt.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

While Sheila and Dr. Theler stayed back by the door, Dr. O’Hearn sighed and clasped his clipboard to his waist as he hiked himself up to sit partially on the counter so he could face us.

“Guys, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he started and then winced. “But...”

My stomach dropped to my knees.

Bad news? How could there be more bad news? Hadn’t I already been through enough?

“There’s been a mistake in the recent antispasmodic medication you were prescribed,” he finished.

I released a breath, thinking that wasn’t as bad as I’d originally feared.