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I was not telling him about the seizures. Not his business.
Is that it?
No, that’s not it, but that’s all I’m telling you.
When I wasn’t there, I didn’t have to deal with his attitude. Yet he was now texting me when I was at home, relaxing.
Yes. Is there anything you need help with? Should I call my uncle?
There was a pause, and I picked up my bottle of water and took a drink. Still no response, so I laid my phone back down, then picked it back up, just in case. Sinking back onto the sofa, I glanced down at the back-and-forth texts with him. If I was being honest, I was more annoyed with me than with him. Because I wanted those little dots to appear to show that he was texting me back. That in itself was dangerous.
The door opened, and Wilder walked in with a white bag in his hand. I started to ask him if they had the fried sweet potatoes today, but my phone dinged. My stomach did a little flutter thing at the sound, and I winced. What was wrong with me? I should not be reacting like this.
Pulling my phone out, I saw his name on the screen and debated on ignoring it. Just eat my dinner and watch some more television. For a moment, I thought I could do it, but that passed when I opened my phone, unable not to give in.
What are you doing?
I stared at that and reread it three times before replying.
Eating pad thai and watching iZombie.
My thumb hesitated over the phone before I gave in and pressed Send then slipped the phone into my pocket.
“They had the fried sweet potatoes you love,” Wilder told me, putting the bag on the coffee table.
“Thank you!”
I reached for the bag and pulled out the boxes of food. When my phone dinged again, I didn’t get it out of my pocket. I finished setting up our places, then sat back with the fried sweet potatoes in my lap. My phone felt like it was a magnet, pulling me to it.
Unable to keep this up, I took my phone and opened it up.
That sounds fucking awful.
A laugh escaped me, and I covered my mouth, then put my phone down.
“You never text. Who is that?” Wilder asked, sounding curious.
I glanced over at him as he sat down beside me, opening a bottle of water. We were friends, but I had to be careful what I said about Gage or my job. I’d read the NDA, but it made me nervous that I would mess up.
“The patient I’m taking care of,” I said.
He frowned. “The guy you said despises you? He texted you?”
I shrugged. It had surprised me too.
“Guess he doesn’t hate you if he’s making you laugh. Today must have gone better. Although I wish you had told him no and not returned,” Wilder replied.
“It’s a job, and he’s still not fond of me.” I said before putting a fork full of pad thai in my mouth.
“He wanted you to come back, and now, he’s texting you,” Wilder pointed out. “He doesn’t hate you.”
I finished chewing my food and started to respond when my phone dinged again. My eyes swung over to Wilder’s, and he was giving me anI told you solook.
Opening my phone again, I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling. Why was this making me want to smile?
She eats fucking brains from a morgue?
I had to bite down harder to keep the grin that wanted to break out on my face.
