It's Complicated (51 page)

Sighing, Josie went back to the freezer and found a package of peas. “You’re a regular Tim Gunn of road rash, Alex. Sit on this,” she commanded.

Positioning the bag on his hip and ass, he had to admit that the cold packs made a huge difference in his comfort level. Internally, discomfort and anxiety were through the roof, because now that the crisis was over, he had to figure out what to do with Josie. Was she here out of professional courtesy? Because she really cared about him? Was there a chance to reconcile?

Or what?

Pressing the glass of his phone, Josie made a series of puzzled faces. “Aha!” she finally said.

“What are you doing?” His head throbbed, and he was emotionally and physically wiped.

“Under ‘Contacts’—Mom.”

He opened his eyes and sat up. “You wouldn’t!”

“I’ll call her if you don’t go to an ER and get care.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Look. I just need to clean it, apply Lidocaine, and do my own stitching.”

“What’s her name again? Oh. That’s right. Meribeth. Is it Dr. Derjian, or does she have a different last name?”

Groaning, he forced himself to stand, limping into the bathroom while clutching the frozen peas to his ass cheek. “I can’t hear you!”

“But your mom can.”

Slam!
He looked at himself in the mirror. Gah!
World War Z
makeup artists couldn’t have done better. If medicine didn’t work out for him, he could get a job as an extra on the set of
The Walking Dead
. Road rash on his ass and one calf. The gash on his face. Probably the shoulder was just from the force of the fall, and his hip—time would tell. If it were too bad he couldn’t have staggered two blocks. He was healthy. Healing would just take time.

But that gash…that would take stitches. The idea of going to any emergency room right now made his stomach heave. First off, it was July—the month when new interns come in for the beginning of their internship year. That meant he’d be handed off to some fresh-faced med student with the suture skills of Leatherface. No fucking way.

Second, being a doctor who had to be treated for running into a sign meant ridicule. Big, heaping doses of it from colleagues. Again—no way.

Pulling out his first-aid kit, he found what he needed to start cleaning the wound. And then—

Bang bang bang
. “Alex?”

“Yes?”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“Alex!”
Bang bang bang
.

“I am fine, and about to start stitching. I really don’t need anyone screaming and banging in a way that might make my hands shake.”

“I know damn well you can perform a splash ’n’ slash C-section without shaking. So you can handle a pissed off woman telling you you’re being a fool.”

Damn it. She was right.

“Just…Josie, let me handle this my way.” The sting of antiseptic was a welcome, if painful, diversion.

Silence. As Alex went about the process of cleaning the cut, he could see exactly how close he’d been to the eyeball. A few millimeters north and he wouldn’t be able to claim there was no need for ER care.

He’d never stitched his own flesh before. Other doctors had talked about it. As he carefully looked at the wound, though, he wondered if plain old tissue adhesive would be enough. The gash was closer to the corner of his eye, and he’d have a scar regardless of whether it was glued with Dermabond or stitched.

Questioning whether he was in the right mind to do anything, Josie’s insistence gave him pause. As minutes passed, he sat down on the toilet, ruminating. Sounds from the kitchen—the fridge door opening and closing, running water, the gurgle of a coffee machine—told him Josie was still out there. Why was she staying? Could he apologize and try to repair their relationship? The stress at work was fading as what felt like the Star Chamber receded into being just another case, now put to rest. Josie had been right—his grandfather’s trial was broken and he was on the new medication. She’d left her job—was it because of Alex?

And then there was this threesome thing…

He stood and sighed. Time to decide. He chose the Dermabond.

And Josie.

How long was that man going to be in there? Standing in front of the bathroom door, she gave up, defeated but angry. Really angry. That gash and the way he limped—he needed to be seen. His stupid doctor ego was getting in the way, and Darla was right.

Doctors make the worst patients.

His phone was right there, where she’d left it, on the coffee table.

Time to meet Alex’s mother.

A few presses on the glass and the phone rang.

“Meribeth here.”

“Um, hello, Dr. ...Derjian?” Was it Derjian? Damn. Alex hadn’t told her.

“Yes?”

“My name is Josie Mendham, and I—”

“Josie!” Her voice became warm and friendly instantly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

That was an unexpected reception. “I’m here at your son, Alex’s, apartment, and—”

“You are? How delightful!”

Huh? “I wish it, um, were delightful, Dr. Derjian, because—”

“Call me Meribeth!”

“Um, Meribeth, Alex has been injured.”

A beat of silence. “How, exactly, did you injure him, my dear?” Meribeth asked in a hushed voice, implying something that made Josie blush from head to toe.

“How did
I
...what... Oh, no! Not that, um, way—no! He ran into a street sign and gashed his face.”

“What!” The tone of voice changed to panic. “Is he okay?”

“He’s refusing to go to the ER.”

“Of course he is. Stubborn boy. I’ll be right there.”
Click
.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
That hadn’t gone exactly as planned. Josie was strung out on the inside, but she needed to wait and make sure Dr. Mule was going to be okay. The fridge held little but milk; she refilled the ice trays. Ice would be his best friend for the next day or two.

Coffee. She needed coffee. Searching through the cabinets yielded a bag of Rao’s, ground, so she made a full pot because hey—why not? Dr. Derjian was on her way.

Josie was about to meet Alex’s mom.

In the most bizarre way.

As the coffee gurgled, she wondered what she was supposed to
do
right now. She certainly wasn’t his girlfriend. They weren’t even dating. Not even fucking. Josie wasn’t a booty call. Technically, she was an ex…something. They had been somethigning when he’d gone stupid and accused her of violating professional ethics and compromising an enormously important research trial.

And then…what, exactly, had happened? Although she’d rolled the last few weeks’ events around in her head a million times, it only now occurred to her that the two most stubborn people in the world were at a standoff in Alex’s apartment. He wouldn’t budge. She wouldn’t budge.

She’d done nothing wrong. Not one damn thing.

But if he knew that, he would have reached out. Right?

Inhaling slowly through her nose, she stretched her neck until it cracked, and she realized how tense and tight she was. Watching him on the ground, not moving, body splayed out and bleeding, had made her realize how much she missed him.

Wanted him.

Craved him.

Needed
him.

For God’s sake, she’d called him
honey
. No man had ever been called
honey
by her lips. Jackass, asshat, cracker (
that guy really was
), shithead—you name it. Honey was…it was what you said to someone you loved.

The creak of the bathroom door made her turn her head and jump up. Alex lumbered down the hall, using the wall for support, a soggy bag of peas in his hand.

“Can you help me?” he asked. The gash was hard to see in the hallway’s shadow, but as he emerged into the light and Josie walked to him, taking the half-frozen bag, she saw what he had done.

“You Dermabonded it!”

“Yes.”

Peering closely, she got right in his face, professional curiosity getting the best of her. “Good job. You’ll barely scar.”

He folded his arms over his chest, smug now. She inhaled and the scent of man sweat and athleticism blended with antiseptic and glue. “Told you. I didn’t need an ER.” He sagged against the wall, clearly in pain, and Josie’s sense of self was heightened, her face two inches from his, Alex’s hand now resting on her hip. “But I could use some comfort care,” he said in a low, suggestive voice.

Oh, how much she wanted to kiss him. Her body hummed, every inch of her skin wanting to touch every inch of his, her heart beating a pattern that only he could complete. Just as she leaned forward, pulled by a force of nature she couldn’t name, someone banged on the front door.

Alex jumped and Josie pulled back, practically running to the door as Alex called out, “Who would be here now?”

As she opened the door, Josie came face to face with a familiar woman, one who had brought Ed in for the Alzheimer's trial from time to time. “So good to see you again, Josie!” Meribeth Derjian said, reaching in for a hug. Josie was suddenly very aware that she was still wearing her pajamas.

“You did!” Alex boomed. “You called my mother?” An incredulous look spread over his face as he limped closer to her.

Josie held out her palms. “Don’t—I just—you were being unreasonable!” She inched backwards.

“
I
was being unreasonable?” He snorted. “And why are you moving away from me? What are you afraid of—that I’ll shuffle after you faster than you can run?” He thought for a second. “Then again, I’ve seen you run. Maybe your instincts are right.”

“Alex!” Meribeth exclaimed, rushing to him, one palm against his injured cheek before he could say a word. “Josie did the right thing calling me. But…I thought you didn’t go to the ER. Did I misunderstand? You’re back already? Whoever did this surgical glue thing did a great job.”

If he could tighten those arms against his chest another millimeter he’d cut off his own circulation. “I did it myself.”

Meribeth rolled her eyes and shot Josie a sympathetic look. “Men,” they said in unison.

“Oh, no!” Alex shouted, dragging himself to the coffee pot. He pulled out a mug and declared, “You do
not
get to double team me.”

“It takes two of us to get you to see reason, Alex,” Meribeth answered. She gave Josie a knowing look. “Normally I have to bring one of my sisters in to help.”

“Tell me about this side of him,” Josie asked, smiling. Interesting. She never thought about a layer to him that required prying and intervention.

“Alex thinks he’s his own island. Doesn’t need help. Can handle everything life throws at him without any assistance.”

Josie shrugged. “I can understand that.”

“Thank you,” Alex said with sarcasm. “You demonstrate your respect for my independence so strangely,” he added, pointing to Meribeth as he angrily poured a mug of coffee, then struggled to get to the couch with the hot cup in hand.

“Let me get that,” Josie said, taking the mug.

“See? Perfect example,” Meribeth chimed in. “When he had an asthma attack during a soccer game in eleventh grade, he insisted on playing between nebulizer treatments.”

“It was state championships!” Alex objected.

“When he was studying for MCAT exams for medical school, he ingested so much NoDoz he couldn’t sleep for three days, and we finally had to have him hospitalized. It took about an elephant's dose of tranquilizer to get him to sleep.”

“But my scores got me in!” he said as he settled into a corner spot on the couch, motioning to Josie for his mug, which she gave him.

“I thought you were Dr. Calm and Mellow. Dr. Perfect. Dr. Centered,” Josie said, a dawning feeling hitting her. He was nuanced. Flawed. Imperfect. He glared at her and said nothing, but the edges of his mouth cracked into a smile.

And she liked him even more that way.

“Alex,” his mother said suspiciously. “Why are you lurching about like a frog with its leg mowed off?”

“I fell.”

Meribeth threw up her hands. “One- and two-word answers are your fallback, Alex.” She turned to Josie. “Can you explain?”

“He saw me sitting on my porch with another guy and he ran into a
No Parking
sign.”

Dead silence.

Josie winced.

Oh, shit.