Page 21 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

A laugh moved through me. “I can dig it.”

“I’m serious. There’s something freeing about moving your body because it feels good instead of worrying about what you look like.”

The animation in her voice made it easy to picture her commanding a room full of people. She would fill the space without forcing it, the same way she had filled my car.

“How long have you been doing it?”

“For about ten years. The videos came later.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Thank you.” She looked at me. “I know what you do, but I don’t know why you chose it.”

“Neurosurgery?”

“Yes. There are easier ways to make money.”

“There are easier ways to do almost everything worthwhile.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s true.”

“I’ve always been fascinated by the brain. Everything that makes someone who they are is housed inside something fragile enough to be changed in seconds. Memory, movement, speech, personality.” I paused at a red light. “Being trusted to protect that never became ordinary to me.”

Her expression softened. “You love what you do.”

“I do.”

“I could hear it in your voice just now.”

The light changed, and I continued down Delmar.

“Does it take up most of your time?” she asked.

“It takes what it needs.”

Her eyes remained on me.

I knew what she was really asking. Her warning from Cielo returned without either of us repeating it.

Don’t introduce me to something you can’t sustain.

“My schedule can be demanding,” I said. “Emergencies don’t care what plans I’ve made.”

“That makes sense.”

“But if I make plans with you, I intend to keep them.”

“And if you can’t?”

“I’ll tell you the truth about why.”

She considered that before nodding. “I can work with honesty.”

“I remembered.”

A smile touched her lips, and the uncertainty in her eyes eased.

Soulful came into view minutes later, its brick façade glowing beneath the exterior lights. The smell of hickory smoke drifted across the parking lot when we stepped from the car.