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But all my confused emotions seemed to boil over and come out as incredulous laughter. I couldn’t believe she was trying to tackle me in the middle of a doctor’s office. I couldn’t believe she was riding my back and whispering demands in my ear. The woman was an absolute menace, and I hated how much I enjoyed that about her.
“Would you get off so we can talk like normal people?” I asked.
“Not until you answer the question.”
I took a deep breath, then tried to reach for her. She clung on tighter, ducking my hand. I was spinning as I tried to reach to peel her off my back when the door opened.
A small doctor with glasses and a confused look on his face was standing in the doorway. “Um,” he said, pushing his glasses up with his forefinger. “If this is a bad time.”
“No, sorry,” I said. “She has issues. I was just trying to get her back on the table.”
“It’s a bad time,” Kenzie said. “He always changes the subject when I ask him juicy questions. I’m not letting him do it this time. Can you give us five?”
“I wouldn’t advise any horseplay,” the doctor said. “Your x-rays came back clean. No fractures or breaks. You’ll just have a nasty bruise and will probably want to take it easy for a few days to be safe. Also, the private matter you asked about… There’s nothing to worry about there. Everything is coming along healthy and fine. But otherwise, you’re free to go.”
“The private matter” was whatever Kenzie had kicked me out of the room for over ten minutes to talk to the nurses and doctors about when we’d first arrived. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I was curious, so I continued to pretend I didn’t care.
“Got it, thanks!” Kenzie said cheerily from my back.
The doctor pursed his lips, then pulled the door closed slowly until it clicked.
“Tell me,” she hissed again. “Do you write anything when we’re fighting?”
“No,” I snapped. “Now get off my back.”
Kenzie slid herself down, dusting her hands and smiling with satisfaction. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Let me do the math for you, Sebastian. I cure your writer’s block when we’re not fighting because you’re having fun. You can write when you’re happy. When we’re fighting, it makes you sad and frustrated. You don’t write when you’re sad and frustrated. Make sense?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Don’t believe me? Try not being an asshole to me for a day and see how your writing goes. That shouldn’t be so hard, should it?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
“Here’s what you need to do. Accept that I’m your muse. You promise to be nicer to me, and I promise I’ll help you keep the writer’s block away. Do we have a deal?”
A few hours ago, I was determined to stop letting her back in. The hard part was over, and all I had to do was keep her at arm’s length. But every fucking time I got near her, my plans went to ruins. It didn’t matter if I thought happiness was at the end of a completed manuscript or in the hands of a glowing professional review of my work. Kenzie kept fumbling into my vision of the future and making it hard to want anything more than more time with her.
I pressed my lips together, then nodded. “Fine. We have a deal. For now.”
27
Kenzie
My leg didn’t hurt as bad as I expected. It was the evening after my eventful little jog through the woods to find Sebastian. It felt like I’d been hit by a small car moving at retired little old lady speeds. Like one of those little European numbers that could probably park inside a port-a-potty.
Sebastian was still treating me like I’d suffered a stab wound. The man had a peculiar way of worrying about my physical health while also being ready to obliterate my mental health at a moment’s notice. Not very considerate, if you asked me.
But I could enjoy him waiting on me hand and foot. I could also sense he was making an effort to be less of an asshole. For some men, food was the key to their heart. For Sebastian, it was his word count, apparently.
He’d even gone out and picked me up a medley of allergy medications and some of those strips you could stick on your nose to help open it up and breathe easier. I wasn’t ready to count that one as a kind gesture. I thought it was more of a self-serving one because he was a baby about my slight snoring problem.
Sebastian and I were in our basement room when I caught a whiff of campfire smoke. I looked out the windows behind my bed and spotted the others out back with chairs set up around a fire. “Ooh,” I said. “I love campfires.”
