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ChapterTwelve
HARLEY
Several days later, I was back at the doctor’s office, and Quinn was waiting patiently. I stared down at my hands before lifting my eyes to his again. He was a little too handsome to be a doctor, but I liked him. He had this comfortable, relaxed manner to him.
“I don't want to take medication,” I finally said.
He took a breath, nodding in acknowledgment before replying, “I understand that, but I think it would help. I'm concerned if you don't—”
I shook my head, anger rising swiftly inside. “Why? It's just an irregular heartbeat,” I argued.
“It's not quite that simple. It's erratic, and it affects the oxygen flow in your system. That’s what’s causing the fainting episodes. Can you help me understand what you're concerned about, and why you're so opposed to medication?”
My irritation felt prickly. I wanted to shake the feeling away. I didn't want to explain. That meant admitting I didn't like having weakness of any kind. “I've been doing fine without it,” I finally said, my voice sounding a little sharper than I intended.
“Okay. Look, let's schedule a follow-up. I'd like you to think about it. I'm going to give you some information that explains what's happening and how the medication will help.”
“Okay. Aren't you supposed to listen to what I want?” I pressed.
Quinn was entirely unruffled by my snappiness. “Iamlistening, but as your doctor, it's my responsibility to be honest with you about what I recommend and what's best for your health. I do respect if you choose not to take the medication. Maybe when you're more comfortable with me, you can explain why. In the meantime, let's schedule a follow-up. You can review the information and think about the medication.”
I kept my temper in check. It wasn’t his fault. This was actually the same thing my other doctor had told me.
“This will significantly decrease your likelihood of having these episodes.”
“What episodes?” I asked as if I didn’t know.
“The fainting, the breathlessness, and temporary weakness.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I'll think about it.”
He stood and was opening the door when I said, “Dr. Haynes.” He turned back. “I'm not annoyed with you. I'm annoyed with the situation.”
“You can be annoyed with me, but I appreciate the clarification.”
Between that and having to have a conversation with Diego and our sisters about this, I was feeling, well, snippy about it. Apparently, there was a family history of heart issues. I'd had to listen to a little lecture from my oldest sister. My mom's sister had the same thing I did.
I’d lied to all of them and told them it was mild and no medication had been recommended. I didn't like to lie, but I also didn't want to deal with my family's overbearing attitude since I was the youngest of five siblings with bossy sisters and an overprotective older brother. For the first time since it had happened, my mind flung itself in the direction of Grant.
It was a relief to think about him later that night even though all of that mess was an inconvenient and consuming distraction. He was a better option than worrying about the stupid heart thing.
It still chafed me that he had told Diego. Like I needed another overprotective guy in my life. That evening, Cat wasn't at the staff house. She was in Anchorage with a friend for the whole weekend. Which meant it was just Grant and me.
That didn't have to mean anything, or so I told myself. It wasn't like he was here every night anyway or that our schedules aligned. I often hung out at the lodge with Daphne and Nora. Or I holed up in my room to read and work late on projects. With my job primarily online, my bed could be my desk. I didn't have to interact with Grant.
Except tonight I wanted to. I wanted a distraction. Badly.
When I stopped by the lodge, Daphne was busy with guests. With Cat up in Anchorage, she was busier than usual. I offered to help. I basically just followed her instructions in the kitchen, stirring this, cleaning that, putting things on the table for the guests, and playing tourist guide for those with questions about the area and what to do.
I kept wondering if Grant would make an appearance. Staff usually swung by and grabbed something for dinner unless they were otherwise occupied. The moment he showed up, I felt a fiery prickle of awareness race down my spine.
I forced myself to finish what I was doing, putting the latest round of dishes through the industrial-sized dishwasher in the back. I turned to see him standing at the counter laughing at something Flynn said. He reached for one of the stuffed savory rolls Daphne had made for appetizers. She had left extras out for the staff.
Flynn turned his attention to Daphne, leaning over and asking her a question. As Grant chewed, his eyes arced around the kitchen before they landed on where I stood in the back by the dishwasher, drying my hands with a towel.
Our gazes collided. I felt caught in a beam, and my belly shimmied, sending tingles through my system. I paid close attention to what I was doing. I finished drying my hands on the towel and looked away, tossing it in the laundry basket under the sink.
I told myself to play it cool. Daphne turned when I stopped beside where she was putting away the pots and pans.
