Page 77 of Bleed

Albert furrows his brow. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Oh I don’t know.” I throw my hands up. “Maybe because the guy’s been avoiding me for days? And he wasn’t exactly my biggest fan before that.”

His brows draw in even further, lips turning down in a frown. “What makes you think that?”

“Please,” I scoff. “I can tell when someone hates me.”

Albert lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “He doesn’t hate you.”

I bark a wry laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He sighs, shifting his weight against the doorframe. “He doesn’t,” Albert says again, quieter this time. “He just… struggles with variables he can’t control.”

“Oh, so I’m a variable now?” I cluck.

He chuckles under his breath. “Bex, you’re all the variables.”

I plant my hands on my hips. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means there’s no predictable outcome with you.” He gestures vaguely in my direction. “You don’t have an off switch. You don’t think before you act. Half the time, I don’t think you even know what you’re going to do until you’re already doing it.”

I lift my chin. “Some people appreciate spontaneity.”

“Sure.” Albert shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Doc isn’t one of them.”

“And that’s my problem because…?”

“Because he likes knowing exactly what he’s walking into.”

My frown deepens. “So he’s a control freak.”

Albert hesitates, then gives a little shake of his head. “No.”

“No?”

He shakes his head again. “Control freaks usually want everyone else to play by their rules.”

“And he doesn’t?”

“He mostly plays by his own.”

I blink at him, completely lost. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Albert pulls a hand from his pocket and scratches absently at the back of his neck, seemingly searching for the words to explain whatever it is he’s trying to convey.

“Look, I’ve worked with Doc for years,” he says. “If he makes a decision, it’s because he’s already thought through every possible outcome first. He doesn’t wing things. Ever.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

He laughs. “I’m sure it is.”

I lean back against the dresser, studying Albert’s face like I’ll find the answers there. “So what’s the right play here, then?”

He heaves a long-suffering sigh as he pushes off the doorframe, shaking his head. “There’s no play, Bex. If you want him to come to you, then stop playing games. Remove the variables so there’s a predictable outcome and make it easy for him to choose.”

I stare at Albert, waiting for him to elaborate.

He doesn’t.