Page 67 of IOU

“Everything is under control,” I promise, noting and discarding the disbelieving gaze of my cardiologist.

“So this was random? You haven’t had any stress or lifestyle changes here recently?”

I almost bark out a laugh and ask him to see Exhibit A pacing my hospital room animatedly. “No.”

“So, what do you think triggered the tachycardia if not from your usual stressors?”

Uh, let’s see.

I had a great time with a girl last night playing a stupid fucking game that wasn’t poker. I might have been pissed off that I allowed her to see the real me. Then, I might have been so mad that I reacted and told Mike just to find her somewhere to stay ASAP, agreeing I would cover the additional rent just as long as she was gone sooner rather than later.

But then she had to slide that fucking five hundred thousand IOU under my door. Fuck, what did it say again? Oh yeah,IOU too many favors to count—consider my life yours. Do with me as you wish.

I read that damn IOU fifteen times before I finally realized the pressure in my chest was mounting. Not even a run after she left soothed it. Not that she caused the tachycardia. I’d been battling it for a few days now, but after last night—the night I realized I wanted Ainsley James and not just for the semester but for longer—that’s when all hell broke loose. For the first time since all this happened, I wanted to be selfish.

“Have you continued working?”

My gaze snaps to my doctor. Speaking about work is a no-go zone. “N—”

“Yes, he has,” Ainsley interrupts, apparently finished with her call. “All the time. He’s on his laptopallthe time.”

My dick twitches, and this is so not the time.

Is she seriously ratting me out again?

I’m fucking speechless and not that it matters because I can always squash what she thinks with a few well-placed rumors, but how? How does she know? Better yet, what does she know? I’ve never given her an opportunity to see the truth of what I was doing. Granted, she’s seen me on my laptop, but I could have been fucking around on the internet. How does she know I’ve been working?

The monitor I’m connected to starts beeping faster.

Dr. Kallay frowns. “I thought you were going to tell your grandfather about it. We discuss—”

“I know,” I cut him off. “He had a setback. I promise I’ll tell him.”

Like when I graduate, and it no longer matters.

“Maverick, listen, I know you’re trying to protect him, but you’re killing yourself. He wouldn’t want you to do this.”

A quick look at Ainsley shows she’s listening to every word Dr. Kallay is vomiting out. She’s not even trying to hide it.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I sigh, a deep, weighted type of sigh.

Dr. Kallay gets the hint. “Get some rest. I’ll be back later, and we’ll finish this conversation.”

Can’t wait.

I nod tightly, considering leaving against medical advice as soon as he leaves.

When the door closes, I make it a point not to look at Ainsley. The ceiling is good. It’s nice and plain and not gorgeous or concerned about me.

“How are you feeling?” The bed shifts under her weight. So much for ignoring her. “Can I get you anything?”

“No.” The answer is rude considering all she’s done for me today, but I feel exposed, and that’s not a place I like to be. I mean, why now? Why did she come into my life now instead of two years from now? I’d have my shit together by then.

“How do you know about my job?” I probe, redirecting the conversation to something more productive than my health.

She stands, folding her arms, and shrugs. “You left your laptop open in the living room.”

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