Page 2 of The Plan

“Um… he won’t. He no longer works here.” What kind of fucking doctor just leaves and doesn’t at least give their patients a heads up? Did he seriously not feel the need to bring this up last week when he scheduled my follow-up?

I let out an annoyed breath and started texting my agent. He’s forcing me to be here; he can fix this bullshit. Not looking up from my phone, I hear her start to apologize.

“I am so sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Griffin, but on the bright side, we have a new doctor. I’ve heard she’s the best and is taking over all of Dr. Miller’s patients, so I’ll just let her know that—”

Looking up from my phone, I cut her off. “I don’t need a new doctor. Thank you for your help.” I turn to leave but stop when Jackson replies.

Agent Jackson Jones:

Yes, I was aware your doctor was leaving. I told him not to tell you last week since I knew you wouldn’t go to your next appointment.

Since you’re already there, you may as well see the new doctor. She’s the best in the country so don’t scare her away like you did the last 4 doctors.

Fucking asshole. I let out a sigh, and I turn back around. “Where’s her office?” I follow the receptionist to the room at the end of the hall, and my phone dings with another message.

Also, I told you to stop picking up Isabelle early from school. Do you have trouble comprehending? I’m about to take you off her blue card.

He’s bluffing. There’s no way he’s taking me off of his daughter’s blue card. I met Jackson in college, and when my baseball career first took off about four years ago, it was a no-brainer to make him my agent. Isa was only about a few months old, and I say she’s my niece, considering she calls me her uncle. That being said, I’m never getting taken off her blue card.

I walk into the new doctor's room, taking it all in. At least this one is bigger than Dr. Miller’s. The walls are an ugly yellow, and a huge floor-to-ceiling window is taking up most of the back wall.

I look back down at my phone and start typing averyopinionated reply to Jackson. A whiff of a familiar vanilla scent hits my nose as someone walks in, and I stop typing.

I feel my entire body tense and look up. She has her back to me, but even then, I recognize her. Her hair is a bit lighter, with highlights of chestnut brown instead of just her natural darker color. It’s still as curly as I remember, but it’s a lot longer and now falls to the middle of her back.

Even from behind and with her small changes, I still know exactly who she is. “Vid?”

She spins around at the sound of my voice, and both of our demeanors quickly change. I knew something was different about the building as soon as I walked in.

She rolls her eyes and throws my chart aside. “This feels familiar.” Her tone is just as bored as she looks, and I feel my teeth grinding against each other. Ugh, the more I look at her, the more pissed off I get.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Vidia?”

She looks just as mad as I feel, but I honestly couldn’t care less about her feelings right now, or at all for that matter.

“You’re in a doctor's office, and I’m in a white lab coat. Are you that dense?” she replies with a smart-ass comment I should’ve seen coming.Little shit.

It’s obvious she works here, but that's not what I meant, and she knows that. “What are you doinghere, in LA?” I say more firmly.

She opens her mouth to reply but shuts it before starting again. “I don’t have to explain anything to you that is unrelated to your medical care.”

I roll my eyes at her obnoxious “professional” voice. “Don’t play with me right now, Vidia. Just answer the damn question.” She crosses her arms, standing her ground. Whatever. “Fine. I don’t give a shit anyway.”

She rolls her eyes and leans against her computer desk. “When did you hurt your arm?” She knows I hurt it back in college since she was there, so she means when did I hurt it thesecondtime.

I walk over to the bed and lean against it instead of sitting. “About a month ago during practice. You would’ve known that if you read my chart.” We both shoot glares at each other as I remind her of the way she just tossed my chart aside like it was trash.

“I did. It’s called talking to the patient to better understand their injuries.”

I give her a bored expression but don’t respond. She didn’t look surprised to see me, so I assume she knew I was her new patient. The question is, why did she agree to see me?

I watch her watch me, and I swear I can see her annoyance growing by the second. She finally snaps and lets out a scoff. “You should've just listened to me in college when I said—”

And just like that, we’re done here. I’m not going to sit here and listen to her say she told me so. I start to walk out, but she gets in my way. “Move.” I don’t bother to look down as I address her.

“Where are you going? Our session didn’t even start.”

I let out a scoff. She’s delusional if she thinks I’m seriously going to continue seeing her as my doctor. “It’s not going to starttoday or ever. I’m quitting physical therapy. Nowmove.”I look down at her just as she shoots me a glare.

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