Page 71 of Addiction

We head up and I show her the rooms that hold the classes before I turn toward the offices. I’m in two minds whether or not to walk past Asher’s door or enter in the hope that using Jessica as my reason would get him to talk. But instead, Twilight comes around the corner.

“Mark, I’d like you to meet Princess Jessica.”

“Ah, Your Highness.” He bows. “If I’d known we had royalty in the building, I would have put on a different shirt.”

“What’s wrong with that one?” Jessica asks.

“It’s far too plain for a princess. I would have got out my pink one with sparkles on.”

Her little face lights up. “You have a pink sparkly one? Oh wow. Pink is my favorite color.”

“I thought it might be.” He grins. “So what brings you here, Jessica?”

“Dr. Wade is making my legs better and helping me walk.”

“I see.”

“Speaking of which, we need to go get started on your P.T. session.”

“Nah, a Princess would much rather be carried than work.”

Both Mark and I laugh at her sass.

“I see you have a challenge on your hands,” Mark says quietly.

“Don’t I just. Are you headed out?”

“For a bit. I’m coming back after lunch as there are a few guys coming over to sign up and Asher is being an ass.”

“I heard that,” Jessica says.”

“Oh, my little lady. I do apologize.” Mark smiles. “Right, I’ll catch you later.”

I nod, not wanting to quiz Mark on Asher.

“Right, come on Princess Sassy Pants.” I say as I head back down the stairs.

“Dr. Wade,” Jessica asks inquisitively. “What’s a challenge?”

I smile, she clearly overheard Mark. “A challenge is to try and get someone to do their physical therapy without them complaining.”

“You mean me, don’t you?”

I laugh. “I do indeed, little miss. And if you don’t do it then the princess won’t get any stickers.

I get an unenthusiastic grumble from Jessica as we enter the treatment room and place her down on the floor, shutting us off to the world and everything that has me feeling uneasy on the other side.

* * *

“Is he all right? He’s been punching that bag for ages,” Mark asks entering my treatment room. My body feels heavy with the knowledge that I’m most definitely the reason Asher is knocking the hell out of the punch bag. He’s barely looked at me today, and it’s no lie when I say it hurts.

“I wouldn’t know. He’s not spoken to me.” I realize my choice of words is a mistake the second I say them.

“Why not?”

Turning to Mark, I try to redirect the conversation. “I mean, he’s not said if anything is off.”

“Right.” He looks back out toward the boxing ring. “He hasn’t punched like that in a while.”