I take a step after her then stop, my gaze drawn back over my shoulder.
Leo’s still in the chair, but he’s watching me, those deep brown eyes blazing with emotion.
“Dammit,” I whisper.
Then I do something that’s probably incredibly stupid.
I gesture for him to follow me.
Ten
Leo
I try to be as unobtrusive as possible as I follow Harper and the medical assistant through the bright hallways, the fluorescent lights overhead turning everything a sickly white, highlighting every ding and scratch, making me critically aware that I’m the interloper.
When Harper walked away from me, I figured I’d make myself comfortable, hang out until she was done then continue our discussion—cough, argument—in the parking lot.
But when she looked back at me…
Fuck if I hadn’t felt something.
Something I’m not focusing on too closely.
Instead, I keep my footsteps quiet as I trail the women around the corner.
“If you’ll just step on there,” the medical assistant says, indicating the scale and I back away, deliberately don’t look.
I used to hate it when my coaches would make us weigh in, announcing our weight aloud to whoever might be around to hear it.
Probably because I used to be a scrawny fuck and constantly heard I needed to put on muscle.
I know women deal with it the other way.
But both suck.
So…privacy.
“Okay, let’s move on down to room two and I’ll have you sit on the bed there.”
I follow, slipping inside and standing in the corner as Harper sits and the woman takes her temperature and blood pressure, puts that thing on her finger that measures who knows what.
Everything appears to be in order because it’s not long before the other woman is passing Harper a gown, telling her how to put it on, and stepping out, telling her the doctor will be in soon.
Harper shakes out what I realize is a folded paper-thin piece of…well, it looks like paper, I guess.
But when she reaches for the gown, she pauses, lifts her brows.
“What?” I ask, taking a step toward her. “Do you need help?”
“I’m about to get naked, Leo. I need you to look away.”
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before,” I point out.
She stills, chin coming up, jaw clenching, cheeks going pink. But it’s the hurt that flashes across her eyes that has me realizing what my words sound like. “Harp?—”
“Whatever,” she mutters, reaching for the hem of her shirt and tugging it up.
I spin around, giving her the privacy I shouldn’t have questioned.
