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“I’m looking for Layton. I’m Livy Morgan.”
The man scrubs a hand down his face. “He’s not here.”
“Sir, I’m with the team. I’m their physical therapist, and Mr. Ranger needs a plan to begin rehabbing his injuries.”
“That’s what they said?”
I’m taken aback by his abruptness.
“Yes.”
“A plan to rehab his injuries?”
“Yes, sir.”
“They just took him back to open his thigh to drain fluid that won’t stop pooling near an artery, and the team is discussing a plan—one that includes him, but for which he hasn’t been consulted?”
Tears well, but I clench my jaw and fight to keep my composure. It seems I haven’t been fully clued in to the extent of Layton’s injuries.
“I hate to hear that about his leg. That’s not at all what I want for him. I’m a friend of his in addition to his PT. And, due respect to you, Mr—?” I leave it hanging.
“Ranger.”
“All due respect, Mr. Ranger, but this is”—I gesture to myself and his room— “Layton being consulted. It will be his plans and his goals. I’ll devise whatever is necessary for him to hit those.”
His eyes narrow. “You think so?”
“I know so. The man is stalwart.”
“Miss Morgan, right now, I want my son to walk again. I give zero shits what his team wants.”
“I should’ve known you were his dad.” I smile tentatively. “He mentioned you once. I see where he gets his protective nature.”
He cocks his head.
“Miss Morgan—”
“Livy, please.”
“Livy, tell everyone to stay away from my son. Time is critical, and my stalwart son, as you called him, needs that time to heal.”
“I will relay your wishes. Mr. Ranger, but know that I’ll be back. I respect you but I respect Layton more. He’s my patient and, like I said, a friend. If he dismisses me, so be it, but I want to hear that from him.”
A hint of a smile plays on his sad mouth. “Until next time, Livy Morgan.” He closes the door as I turn to walk away.
SIXTEEN
PAST TENSE
LAYTON
“You were incredibly lucky, Mr. Ranger.”
“Lucky? You call this lucky?” What a twat. He may be a world-renowned surgeon, but he’s a twat nonetheless. “We have very different definitions of lucky.”
“Layton,” Pop growls from my left.
The doctor begins again, “You’re alive. That’s lucky. You aren’t paralyzed. Also lucky. For what could have happened, you’re in miraculous shape.”
