Charli

“HOW ARE YOU?”

The kindly look on the older man’s face immediately put Charli on edge. “I’m fine,” she said warily, backing away. “But I’m not the one who nearly went septic.”

“That’s true. That right there definitely takes the cake when it comes to lousy weekends, I think.” Dr. Josh nudged the door shut but instead of heading down the hall where she’d gestured, he looked around, a faint smile on his face. “I remember this place, Charli. Coming here with my wife, playing cards with your parents. Shame you’re selling.”

“There’s nothing here for me,” she said bluntly. And she tried to ignore the memories he stirred up, because she remembered those times, too. Dr. Josh and his wife, Katie, hadn’t ever had kids, but they’d doted on her and Con. Riley had been too old, or so he’d claimed. He’d never backed away from the hugs or the attention, just allowed the couple to lavish a little extra on Con and Charli.

And the Rodriguez family had been there when everything went dark for her family.

Blinking her eyes against the ache of remembered pain, she pointed down the hall. “He’s down there. You know the way.”

“I do.” Dr. Josh blew out a breath. “And I also remember the last time I had to do a physical on him because of a life insurance policy. His fear of doctors, Charli...it instills a fear of patients in me. Come on in there with me, honey. Protect an old man, would you?”

It was so obvious, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

But at the same time, she knew he wasn’t wrong. If she was in there, Max wouldn’t glare the doctor into silence or acquiescence. Not that the doctor was inclined to, either, but she didn’t want the doctor to have to interrupt his day just for this. They only had so many doctors in town—him.

“Fine,” she grumbled, moving ahead of him and pushing the door open in front of her after a quick knock.

The lights were off.

The shadow on the bed was unmoving.

But she knew he was watching her.

“The doctor’s here, Max. He’s taking a look at you.”

After a few seconds, his response came. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes.” Narrowing her eyes, she glared in the general direction of his shadow. “Now stop being an ass or I’m going to get search lights and pull you out of the shadows, then sit on you and hold you still myself if that’s what it takes.”

“Well...” Dr. Josh cleared his throat. “That’s one way to handle things, Dr. Steele.” Then he hit the lights and moved into the room. “Let’s try this way first.”

Max flinched at the flare of lights and jerked up a hand.

A harsh groan escaped his throat and there was something about the way he reacted that bothered her. She’d kept the lights low the past few days so he could rest, but this wasn’t normal, even after a couple of days of being out of it.

She slid Dr. Josh a look and saw the lines tightening briefly around his mouth.

Well, nice to know she wasn’t the only one concerned.

But damned if she’d let Max hear the concern in her voice. It would only exacerbate the fear she knew he was feeling. If anybody she’d ever met had a true phobia of doctors, it was Max Schaeffer.

But it made sense, in a twisted sort of way.

There had been times when he’d been injured enough that he probably should have gone to the hospital—maybe a time or two he even had, back when she’d been younger, too young to understand what was going on. She knew the abuse had started back when he’d been too small a boy to even process what was happening and it had continued up until his mother sent him away. A decade of hell. He’d lived through a decade of hell, and he still carried those scars.

Pressing her lips together, she mentally steeled herself and went to his side. “Come on, you big baby. How bad can that headache be?” she asked, although she knew if he had let himself show pain in front of her, he must feel like something was carving through his brain, from the inside out, with a dull knife.

Slowly, the hand lowered.

Slowly, his head lifted.

His pale blue eyes locked on her face, although he had to squint to do even that.

She’d open the blinds, she thought. Open the blinds and turn off the lights. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be better than this.

“Why didn’t I ever realize what a mean bitch you were, Charli?” he asked in the husky rasp that had replaced his voice over the past few days.

“I don’t know. I guess the same reason I didn’t pay attention when you told me you were an asshole,” she said lightly. Gesturing to the older doctor behind her, she said, “Do what you will. He won’t bite while I’m here.”

Dr. Josh snagged the chair she’d been using and dragged it closer, sitting in front of Max. “I think we should talk a bit first, Max. If you’re okay with that.”

Max’s gaze flicked to the doctor for the first time. He looked like he was going to brush off the man at first, his gaze moving toward Charli. She glared at him.

Something like a sigh shuddered out of him and he glanced back at the doctor. “Why?”

“Well...” Dr. Josh blew out a breath. “I think it might help me figure out why a young man such as yourself ended up going septic after the knife wound you took.” Holding up a hand, the older doctor said, “I’ve been thinking this through and my choices are limited. Perhaps Charli was careless when she stitched you up and she didn’t clean the wound—”

“If you think that, then you don’t know jack shit about her,” Max practically growled.

Dr. Josh smiled his placid smile and continued on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “But I know that girl, and careless isn’t in her repertoire. So, I have to consider that perhaps the object that cut you was exceedingly filthy. Which may very well be the case, but still, a healthy young man should be able to fight that off without going septic, and it happened so fast.” He paused and the weight of his gaze slammed into Max.

Charli felt it.

“Why don’t you just say what it is you want to say?”

“I think we both know what I want to say.” Dr. Josh lifted his chin. “You’ve lost weight. I’ve noticed it the past few months, but pointing out such a thing to you would be about as useful as pointing out an iceberg to the Titanic. When I was putting an IV in, I took the liberty of performing a quick physical.”

He glanced at Charli as he said it.

She’d been in the room, had watched.

She knew what he’d found, because she’d discovered the same thing.

But now she was wondering if he’d come to a conclusion she’d missed—and had she missed it because she was inexperienced? Or because it was Max?

“You have swollen lymph nodes.” He lifted a hand as Max opened his mouth. “I can explain that in more detail later, but I’m going to speculate on a few things you’ve probably noticed over the past few months. You’re more tired. You can’t eat.”

“I never eat all that much,” Max bit off. But he sounded uneasy.

“There’s a difference between not being much of an eater, and not being able to eat—or not holding down food...or in,” Dr. Josh said, cocking a brow. “You’re not sleeping well, and I’d imagine sleep has always been an issue for you. Now it’s more so. And these headaches...”

“Who said I had a headache?” Max demanded.

“The way you’re acting—the lights, how you’re holding yourself.” Dr. Josh shrugged. “Perhaps you don’t have a headache. I could be wrong. Although as rigidly as you’re sitting, if you don’t have a headache yet, you will.”

“Again...” Max said it through clenched teeth. “What are you getting at?”

“You’re not well,” he said simply. “And I don’t mean this episode here, Max. I think you’re ill...and I think you have been for a while.”

A muscle pulsed in Max’s cheek.

Charli felt her stomach fall out as he gritted out, “So the fuck what?”