Page 27 of The Voice We Find

“Exactly,” Dr. Rock says as she pulls off her gloves, tosses them in the receptacle, and moves to exit through the curtain. As she pulls it open, she winks in my direction. “Which is why I highly recommend you make that fancy dinner reservation for when all this is over. Take care, you two. And thanks for the laughs.”

When the curtain swishes closed behind her and we’re alone, I feel August’s gaze return to me, but I’m not quite brave enough to look at him yet. If he unnerved me this morning when there was a shield of glass between us at the studio, then I don’t have the right vocabulary for whatever his gaze is doing to me now.

“You stayed,” August says in a tone I don’t recognize. It’s gentle and light and full of an emotion that sounds a whole lot like gratitude.

“It seemed like you could use the company.”

A beat passes before he says, “Or maybe you were just hoping to see me in this sweet minidress.”

I bite my bottom lip at that. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that those faded blue and yellow stars do a lot for your complexion.”

“Do you think Bruce will notice if I wear it home?”

“Honestly, I don’t think Bruce misses much of anything around here.”

“True.” August chuckles. “But I suppose the same could be said for you. I’m not sure how many people would be observant enough to spot my symptoms as warning signs for infection the way you did.”

Something like awe laces his words, and when I look up, he points to the chair beside his bed. I sit without hesitation and then wonder how it is I feel so at ease with August when that’s rarely the case with any man I encounter. Even those I’m related to.

My knee brushes the edge of the mattress where he rubs the thin blanket stretched over his legs between his index finger and thumb. It’s the same hand I held while August blanched white and fought to stay conscious.

“I hope this goes without saying, but I don’t expect you to help me with this after I’m home.” He lifts his left arm where the IV is flowing into his bandaged hand and wrist. “Wound care is not a part of your narration package at the studio. I made a stupid decision, and now I have to pay for it. I’ll figure it out.”

I can tell he’s trying to minimize the situation. But having filled out August’s medical questionnaire for him, I know too much. The self-employment insurance he carries is for major medical only. None of this is covered. I’d guess daily wound care isn’t either. Knowing the balance in my own bank account at the moment, I’d be freaking out if the situation were reversed.

“Is there someone who lives close by who could help? A friend? A neighbor, maybe?”

“Not really,” he says tiredly. “Gabby won’t be back home for two weeks.”

Gabby?August lives with a woman? How had I missed that?

“Is she ... on a trip or something?”

He takes a sip of his water and nods in confirmation.

I try to play off my disappointment at the thought of a woman in his life. Usually I’m pretty good at picking up on that vibe. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have the two of you been together?”

August lowers his jug of ice water, and I watch as his lips curvenorth. “Guess that depends on how you definetogether. Technically speaking, she’s been an important part of my life for a little over a decade, but I only moved in two years ago.”

“A decade?” Shock spikes my volume. “Were you like, high school sweethearts or something?”

He barks out a laugh. “Try brother and sister.”

An icy hot sensation muffles my hearing. “What?”

“Gabby’s sixteen. She’s my sister.”

“Oh.Oh.” Even for a professional actress, I know myohdoes not sound nearly as casual as I intend. “You live with your teenage sister—well, that’s fun.”

“It’s something for sure.” His eyelids grow heavy, but his grin continues to hold a tender component I don’t want to walk away from. “She’ll like you.”

A flutter spasms in my lower abdomen at his soft, unhindered words. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re both . . .” His breathing slows. “Spunky.”

My mouth falls open. “Spunky?” I snicker, as this is not a word I often hear, and yet I kind of love it. Even if August is too intoxicated to remember saying it tomorrow.

Eyes closed, he nods. “I can be stubborn.”

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