JOSEPH
I don't like the way that the doctors are whispering, pretending as though I'm just some kid who doesn't know any better, I guess. It's bullshit, that's all I know—whatever they're being all hush-hush about over there in the corner. Dr. Brinkley, my surgeon, gives the other doctor a curt nod before turning to face me, the other doctor slipping out the door. In Dr. Brinkley's hands are two files, the dark edge of an x-ray peeking out of one of them. "Okay, so we've got your results here, Joseph."
Thank God for being rich I guess, because usually, these things take much longer than a matter of a couple of hours. “All right. Lay them on me then, Doc."
"Well, there's good news…and then there's some not so great news," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose and pushing his glasses back up.
"Please don't beat around the bush, just tell me what's going on." No need to keep me in suspense or anything, asshole.
"The good news is that the pins can come out. That was one of our main concerns here today. However, that will be another surgical procedure for you to undergo, and while we’re in there we’re going to be doing a cleanup of some of the scar tissue that's been building up around the last surgical site."
All I hear is another surgical procedure. "I have to do this all over again?"
There's a wince before he answers. "There will be another recuperation period, yes. Of course, you’ll need bed rest after the surgery, but not quite as long this time. You should be ready for your next round of physical therapy in about four to five weeks."
Everything inside of me starts thrumming, like a whole bunch of bees buzzing, getting louder and louder. It's hard to control myself as I try to find my voice. "I only just managed to get back on my feet. Literally a few days ago, in fact, and now you're telling me I’ll have to go through all of that shit again. All of that again? This is unbelievable," I mutter more to myself than the doctor. I know it’s not his fault but I can’t help the anger that seeps in to what I’m saying.
Dr. Brinkley seems to take it all in his stride and starts going on about the procedure for the next surgery, but I tune him out, lost in my own thoughts. As irritated and frankly pissed off as I am in having to deal with another month and some change stuck in my damn bed, at least I know it means Lana and Olivia will have to stick around longer. It’s my silver lining to this shit cloud.
I'm given one of the files by Dr. Brinkley, and after the surgery has been scheduled, I carefully slide myself back into the medical transport van, waiting to get back home so I can be pissed off in my own damn home.
As we pull up to the front of the casino, Lana is already out there waiting for me, her hair pulled up and off her neck. At least I'll have her to talk with. She's no stranger to me ranting and raving, thankfully.
The door slides open and she greets me with a half a smile, but it doesn't meet her eyes. Right away I can tell something is off about her, but I keep quiet until she helps me down out of the van.
"Here you go, sir," the van driver says as she pulls a wheelchair around for me to sit in.
I grind my teeth together just looking at it. "No, none of that. No way am I gonna be pushed around in a damn wheelchair like some invalid anymore."
Lana steps beside me, thanking the van driver before they take off, and she levels me with her gaze. "No sense in taking it easy, huh?" she teases me lightly, letting me lean on her as we make the long trek back up to the penthouse.
We make it inside the elevator, where it’s luckily just the two of us, when the silence between us gets to me. "Is something up? Are you okay?" I ask.
She quickly blinks but shrugs as if she's totally fine. I’m not buying it. "No, everything's good. What did your surgeon have to say?" Changing the subject then? Okay…
On the way up to the penthouse level, I explain what Dr. Brinkley told me about needing the second surgery including cleaning up the scar tissue. I try to keep my temper level but it's hard to do with the next recovery looming ahead. All I want is to be my old self. I hate the way Lana’s only ever known this broken version of me. If we’d crossed paths a few months ago, I know she’d never have resisted me.
The elevator doors spring open and she helps me inside the penthouse, unlocking the door for me. We walk past Michael whose standing in the hallway for some reason, inspecting something on his phone and clearly not paying one bit of attention to anything else. It's weird because usually, he doesn't let anybody go past him without saying something, but whatever's going on with his phone must be pretty damn important. I remind myself to bring up with him when he comes into my room later, but when Lana opens the door for me and helps me get settled back down in my bed, there’s some kind of tension flittering across her face. Something she's trying to keep down. Oh yeah, something is definitely going on… Something between her and Michael maybe? Did they have some kind of interlude while I was at the hospital?
Lana's talking about the next procedure without much inflection in her tone, clearly just trying to appease me, and make me feel better about the whole thing, but all I want to know is what happened while I was gone.…or maybe I don't want to know. A snaking feeling of jealousy coils in my gut.
It's hard to explain the way I feel about Lana because it goes past more than just admiring how absolutely fucking hot she is. And deep down I know that nothing's gonna happen between us, especially with me being a damn cripple anyway. It's not like I ever had a chance. Part of me thinks maybe I should be happy for my brother if something did happen between the two of them. But another part of me? Not so much.
It's just weird because when Michael's into a woman he usually makes it well-known, he doesn't keep it to himself like this. Am I reading too much into this?
Unable to keep quiet much longer, I finally bring it up. I’ve got nothing to lose by asking. "All right. What happened?"
"I'm sorry?" Lana pretends she has no idea what I'm talking about. Fucking figures.
"Between you and my brother. What happened? You two are suddenly giving each other the silent treatment so what did I miss?"
Her mouth parts slightly as she struggles to find the right thing to say. "No, nothing happened. Nothing at all…I just…it's nothing."
I sigh. "It's fine if something did happen, I mean it's not like I care."
She gives me another cool look. "Well, I wouldn't care if you did care. Why would you think that you have any opinion on the matter anyway?"
Touchy, touchy! Apparently, I was right all along. "No need to get all bent out of shape about it, Lana. I was just merely making an observation. You’re both acting weird."
She moves jerkily as she stands back up from the bed, clamping her hand over her mouth. She brings it away for a moment to utter a soft "I'm sorry, Joseph." Without saying much of anything else, she walks over to gather up my meds for the afternoon, pouring me a tall glass of water and handing them to me. "I'll, ah, I'll come back to check on you in a little while."
I don't know why but I don't want her to leave just yet. "Hey, how's Olivia doing with her trig?" I've been wondering if she's moved on to straight calculus at this point, as smart as she is.
Obvious confusion clouds Lana's face. "What?" The quiet demeanor and her expression has changed, a frown pulling down the corners of her mouth.
"Her trigonometry. I was helping her with some of it, and I was just wondering if she was having any more trouble with it. She hasn't been back to me about it since."
Lana shakes her head, looking completely mystified. "Are you telling me my daughter's working on trigonometry? As in high school level math? How do you even know that? And…you’re helping?"
I don't know what to take offense to first. Finally, I snort, unable to help myself. "Well, yeah. You know I have a Master’s degree in business, right? It's not like I'm an actual idiot or anything."
She raises an eyebrow at me. "Being educated and not being an idiot are two completely separate things." God, her sass turns me on.
I grin back at her. "Clearly, they’re not."
She doesn't know whether to be upset or amused, and I can tell she's trying to lean towards the former, quickly putting my box of medicine away before heading out the door. The grin on my face falters, and I can't help it feel another sting of jealousy over her and Michael because whatever the case may be, something definitely happened between the two of them.