Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(83)

“Her weight is fine, Knox. Everything is fine. Would you chill? God, you’re worse than Griffin, and I never thought I’d say those words.”

I frowned. “Am I?”

Talia nodded. “Ten times worse.”

“Hmm. Whatever.”

Memphis simply shook her head and laughed. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I bent to kiss her, lingering long enough for Talia to clear her throat. “Okay. We’d better get home and relieve Mom.”

“I’ll walk you guys out,” Talia said. “You’re my last appointment for today.”

“Want to come over for dinner?” I asked.

“Sure. It’s not like I have anything or anyone waiting for me at home.” She sighed. “Let me duck into the locker room and grab my things. I’ll meet you at the front desk.”

I took Memphis’s hand and helped her off the table. Then once her coat was on, we wandered the hallways of the hospital. My phone vibrated in my pocket as we reached the waiting room on the first floor. A text from Mateo.

“Look at this.” I twisted the screen to Memphis.

Mateo was flying planes as a bush pilot in Alaska, shuttling people and supplies to remote areas of the state.

Today’s photo was of rugged mountains draped in snow at sunset.

“It’s going to be weird not having him home for Christmas,” I said, sending him a quick text to fly safe.

“Your mom said the same thing earlier today.”

We all missed him, but he’d needed to get away and do something of his own. He’d been gone for nearly a year, having left not long after the holidays. Mateo hadn’t come out and said it, but I got the impression he’d felt like a shadow here. He needed space and time to find his passion. Maybe it was flying.

I only hoped that one day, his wings would lead him home.

The doors of the hospital’s entrance slid open and a man strode inside.

I glanced over, then did a double take. “Holy shit. That’s Foster Madden.”

“Who?” Memphis asked, tracking Foster’s path to the reception desk.

“Foster Madden. He’s the reigning middleweight champion.”

“Huh?”

“Remember that fight we watched this summer. The one where the guy knocked his opponent out in the first round.”

Memphis blinked.

“Honey, you’re killing me.”

She smirked and jabbed her elbow in my ribs. “Just kidding. I didn’t recognize him, but yes, I remember that fight.”

“That’s him.”

“I wonder why he’s in Quincy.”

I shrugged. “Have you seen him at the hotel?”

“No, but if he checked in today, I would have missed it.”

We’d both taken the day off to do some Christmas shopping with Drake. Then we’d met Mom at home so she could babysit while we’d come to the hospital for Memphis’s appointment.

“I like that name,” she said. “Foster. What do you think?”

“Meh.” From the moment we’d found out we were having a boy, she’d been tossing out name ideas constantly. And each of them, I’d nixed.

“I give up.” She tossed her hands in the air. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, uh . . . sorry to interrupt.” Foster waved to get my attention, then hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the desk. “Do you know if anyone’s working here today?”

“The nurse might have left already.” The clock showed it was five. “Are you looking for a room? We could point you in the right direction.”

Behind him, a door opened and Talia came striding out with a smile. Her long dark ponytail draped over one shoulder and she’d pulled on a jacket over her baby-blue scrub top.

“I’m looking for a doctor who works here,” Foster said.

“Talia Eden.”

Why would Foster Madden be looking for Talia?

Talia’s smile fell. Her footsteps halted. Faster than I’d ever seen her move, she darted behind the reception counter.

“Uh . . .” What the fuck?

Foster glanced over his shoulder, following my gaze, but she’d crouched so low that it was like she’d vanished.

“You might try the ER,” Memphis blurted. “Maybe they can track her down for you. Just head out the doors and down the sidewalk to the other side of the building. You can’t miss it.”

“Appreciate it.” Foster nodded, then as quickly as he’d come in, he was gone.

Memphis and I shared a look, waiting until he was out of sight.

“Coast’s clear,” I called.

Talia inched up, her eyes barely over the counter’s ledge.

“Is he gone?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Want to tell me why you’re hiding from Foster Madden?”

“Nope.” She got to her feet, tiptoeing around the desk. Her eyes stayed glued to the glass windows, checking to make sure he was gone. “I should go.”

“What about dinner?” Memphis asked.

“Rain check.” And before we could say another word, she ran—not jogged, but sprinted—out the doors. She hit the sidewalk and did one quick check for Foster, then bolted to her car in the parking lot.