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“You have to go to the hospital and get all that check in bullshit done,” he said. “You can’t go this weekend.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “But I want to.”
“Goddammit, Nash! This isn’t a goddamn joke!”
I sat up and stared at my brother. “I know it’s not.”
“You can’t ignore this. It’s not going to go away,” he lowered his voice.
“That was very unprofessional of you to raise your voice with a patient like that,” I joked.
Hoyt crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
I raised my hands. “I’ll get the substitute driver until further notice. Happy?”
He shrugged. “Not really, no.”
I stood up. “I’m going to spend the next few days with my balls enjoying them. Let me know where to be and when.”
“Are you going to the airport to get Aracelli?” he asked.
I nodded. “I am.”
“You’re not going to tell her now?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Why bother?”
“Because she’ll be pissed as hell if she flies out tomorrow after the reunion and has to turn around and fly back in,” he pointed out as he walked with me out of the office.
People had started to arrive, and a few of his nurses looked over with sad smiles on their faces.
Yeah, me, too, ladies. Me, too.
It was a sad day indeed when a man learned that he was about to lose his balls.
CHAPTER 4
Did you know the lint that collects at the bottom of your pockets has a name? It’s called gnurr.
-Zip to Nash
ZIP
I groaned as a rumble of thunder started to shake the world around me.
No less than three seconds after that the literal bottom dropped out of the sky.
One second the world was nice and normal, the next I was standing in a torrential downpour three minutes into my thirty-minute walk home.
“Son of a bitch!” I growled, wondering how ‘waterproof’ my phone was.
Probably as waterproof as the stupid hair spray that was literally leaking out of my hair as fast as I’d put it in there this morning.
I’d have to go buy a new phone in the morning, which would really put a damper on my day.
Because I’d go in there, I’d pay for a new phone, and a month later they’d charge me an activation fee or some other made-up bullshit fee because I bought a new phone.
Then I’d have to call up there and complain, and those assholes always took so freakin’ long to get on the phone now.
Which then reminded me how poor service there was in the world now-a-days.
“Need a ride?”
I looked over to see a lifted red Chevy.
When I’d first seen the truck in the parking garage, I’d wondered how they got the damn thing in there. But then I’d seen where it was parked—literally right inside the parking garage—and realized that they couldn’t pull it any farther inside than that.
“Yes!” I cried out just as a bolt of lightning came down hard on the pavement just a few feet from me.
I froze halfway to opening his car, my ears ringing so badly that I was slightly disoriented.
Nash wasn’t, though.
He threw open the passenger door, practically leaned all the way out of it, then yanked me forward into the truck.
Picking me up with his hands in my armpits, I found myself sitting in his truck not quite knowing how I got there. The door slammed closed, and I blinked stupidly for long seconds as I tried to get my equilibrium back.
I turned to look at the man beside me.
“You don’t look good,” I murmured, my ears popping and my voice not sounding right to me.
Water dripped from every last piece of me, and he didn’t complain once when I instantly started soaking his seat and floorboards.
“I just watched you nearly get electrocuted,” he pointed out. “Your hair’s back to normal.”
I didn’t bother acknowledging his subject change, or the fact that me looking like a drowned rat was what he considered normal for me.
No, me nearly getting electrocuted wasn’t it.
He looked… sad.
Wrong.
Like not the normal person that I usually saw.
Usually, Nash was bigger than life. A huge ass person who just sucked all the energy out of the room he was standing in.
I’d watched him do it a hundred times on the television while giving interviews. Hell, I’d watched him do it in person a lot, too.
He’d charmed every single sister I had, as well as Keene. That was damn near impossible.
And the fact that Winston had let him move into his building?
That meant even more, because the man was super conscious of the world around him, and dangers that lurked in the dark—or the light for that matter.
But today, Nash looked like his light had gone out.
“If you say so, Mr. NASCAR,” I teased.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay? Do your ears hurt?”
I nodded. “Yeah, how did you know?”
“Well, for starters, my own ears hurt,” he pointed out. “And then, you’re talking really loud.”
