Page 17 of What About Us

“Don’t be. You worked late. I’m home all day, so just come over when you’re ready.”

“I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

“See you then.”

I hang up and flop back on the bed in despair. Not only am I mortified over how completely fucked up my mother was at the bar last night, but now I have the humiliation of ghosting my one and only patient this morning.

This is not who I am.

I hurry into the bathroom to take a quick shower and blow dry my hair enough so it’s not sopping wet in the braid I plait it in. I haven’t had the chance to do laundry, so there are no clean scrubs in this house. Instead, I pull on some leggings and a Denver Flurry T-shirt, feed the cat, and then rush out the door.

It’s only been forty-five minutes since I called Xander when I pull into his driveway. Just like it did yesterday, his house takes my breath away. This place is unreal. A true mountain mansion with views that hit me right in the chest, it’s exactly what I would build if I won the lottery.

Or were a hockey megastar.

When I hop out of my truck and grab my computer bag, Xander’s already standing in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his black sweats, his T-shirt hugging every bulging muscle on his torso as if it’s painted on, and damn.

Down girl.

“Xander, I’m⁠—”

“No apologies,” he insists and steps back when I get to the door so I can walk inside. “It’s really fine. Do you need some coffee? Breakfast?”

My stomach growls, and he grins.

“Come on, I have some premade breakfast burritos that my sister dropped off.”

“Ava randomly made you breakfast burritos?”

I follow behind him, watching his ass in those sweats.

I’m going to hell.

“No, Harper brought them over. She makes the best ones, and she knows that I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”

“You don’t have to share your food with me, Xander.”

“Are you always a pain in the ass?”

My mouth drops and my eyes go wide as I stare at the man currently bustling around the kitchen, popping a burrito into an air fryer.

“I’m trying to not be a pain in the ass,” I say when I’ve recovered.

“Well, it’s not working. It’s just breakfast. Coffee?”

“I don’t drink it.”

Now his jaw drops. “Are you an alien?”

I’d forgotten how funny Xander is. I can’t help but laugh as I take a seat at the island.

“I can’t do caffeine. It makes my anxiety . . . well. I just can’t do it.”

He’s quiet as he watches me, the only sound coming from the air fryer. It already smells good, and my stomach rumbles again, making his lips tip up in the sexiest smile ever.

Xander plates my breakfast, and I chuckle as I stare down at it.

“I’ll never eat all of this.”