“You are injured.”
“I know.”
“Then address it.” He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like seeking medical treatment for my injured knee just hadn’t occurred to me. I could feel the anger in me rising, but I took a deep breath. I could not afford to get fired, especially after gettingunrequestedfrom the Tremaine’s for encouraging Eleanor to join the Grimm Reapers. Tripp would straight up fire me if another client terminated me.
I set my fork down, collecting my thoughts.
“I will.”
“When?”
“When I decide to.”
He leaned back slightly. “You’re being irrational.”
At that, I could no longer control my temper. He was going too far.
“And you’re being intrusive!”
His dark eyes continued to burn holes in me from across the table. “You cannot continue to work like that.”
“I can, and I am.”
“Not without treatment.”
I laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You are aware that medical care costs money, correct?” I spat back at him.
His brow scrunched. “You’re working additional hours, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“For income.”
“Yes.”
“Then use it.”
“It’s for my father,” I snapped. The room went still. Silence stretched tight. Once again, he looked at me with that expression, like I was a puzzle.
“I don’t have insurance,” I said flatly.
He held my gaze. A look flashed behind his eyes. I'm sure I was reading it wrong. He seemed angry and concerned at the same time, but that didn’t make any sense. Why would this matter to him?
“You play injury on wheels without insurance,” he said like an accusation.
The words landed like a slap. Well, that wasn’t pity. Fury flared so fast it surprised even me.
“Oh, we’re doing that.” I straightened in my chair, wishing I could stand without further proving his point.
“I‘m stating a fact,” he said, crossing his hands over his wide chest. Why was I noticing the way the fabric of his dress shirt pulled over his biceps?
“No,” I said, leaning forward. “You’re judging me.”
He took a breath before continuing, “No, Belle, I’m concerned.”
He said my name. Why did his saying my name squeeze my heart? I was a mess.
“You’re condescending, you know that?” I shot back, tossing my napkin on the table.
