Page 231 of Fighting Chance

“Good on you. You scared the elderly!” I scold as the doors close.

Shrugging, Kieran wraps an arm around my shoulder. “The elderly never like me. I think it’s the tattoos.”

“They probably think you’re in a bikey gang.”

Kieran snorts. “A bikey gang?”

“Yes, a gang.”

“You read far too many dark romances, sunshine.”

“And you don’t read enough.”

“Oh trust me, I’m getting there.” He pauses and I can hear the smile in his voice as he goes on. “Your books are very informative, though. You loved it when I did that twisty thing with my tongue?—”

I slap my hand over his mouth right as the elevator dings, opening its doors to the doctor’s office, their chairs at near capacity with waiting patients for various specialists in the building.

“Best behavior,” I hiss under my breath.

“But I know you love me when I’m a bad boy.”

Whipping my head to him, I narrow my eyes. I know what he’s doing and I do love him for it. He’s managed to distract me from the fear, has managed to somehow make this fun.

His grin is lopsided as he lowers his head. “Fine, if I’m a good boy, will you reward me?”

My smart retort and good mood vanishes the moment a woman behind the receptionist’s desks asks, “Hi there, how can I help you today?”

Here goes nothing, stepping into what is about to no doubt be tests, more waiting rooms, and an endless stream of questions, I say, “My name’s Layla Carson, and I’m here to see Dr. Montary.”

“Layla?”

My head snaps up to Dr. Montary standing there with her weathered, welcoming smile.

“Hi,” I say as I slowly rise, needing Kieran’s help. My bones feel like they need to be oiled.

Dr. Montary takes one look at me and frowns. Quicklywiping the look off her face, she leads us across the hall into her office. It’s a standard one, with a large L-shaped desk in the far-right corner, two chairs that Kieran and I take a seat in, and a bed pushed against the wall. The only difference from most doctors is that her office has a gorgeous floor-to-ceiling window behind her, giving us the view of downtown Colorado.

“As beautiful and sweet as you are, Layla, I was hoping I wouldn’t see you for some time.”

“You and me both, Dr. Montary.” Sighing, I go into detail about everything that has been occurring the past five weeks. Every little thing that I documented on my phone, all the symptoms I hid from everyone around me, the moments I’d paste on a smile and suck it up and pretend I was fine but felt like I was about to drop.

By the stunned expression on Kieran’s face, I’d say he’s realizing hedidn’tnotice everything and is probably kicking himself for it. His hand is in mine and I give it a gentle squeeze, rubbing my thumb back and forth.

By the time I’m finished, Dr. Montary’s head is cocked to the side. “And you changed nothing in this time?”

“Nothing. I’m taking the medication at the same time religiously every day, eating the same foods. Nothing has been introduced.”

She types furiously on her keyboard, writing notes in my file before she stops.

“Did you have a recent GP visit?” she asks.

I can’t hold in my eye roll. “Yes, and he was atrocious. He apparently doesn’t believe in lupus.”

“Quack,” Dr. Montary mutters under her breath, but not quietly enough.

Kieran coughs into his fist to hide his laugh.

“Layla, did he prescribe anything to you?”