Page 70 of Break Point
“If you light that, Drew, I’ll prescribe you a swift exit,” Dr. Lee warns without looking up. “This is a medical facility, not a 1950s lounge.”
Drew lifts his hands, feigning innocence.
“You’re good to go, Belén,” Dr. Lee says, opening a cabinet and pulling out a small, white box and a grape-flavored lollipop. “Take these antacids every six hours, try to eat something that didn’t come off a food truck, and drink actual water.” He sets the box beside me with a look that saysI mean it.
“Rest. As in horizontal. No treadmill, no serves, no pretending you’re invincible.” He glances at Henry with a raised brow. “And if your coach over here tries to sneak you into a training session tomorrow, send him back to me.”
Henry responds with a sharp nod and pursed lips like he’s been sent to the principal’s office.
“Thanks, Doc,” I say, rising slowly.
I’m still woozy but feeling better.
“Off you go, kids.”
Henry lifts a brow at Dr. Lee’s dismissal, and I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. He’s an adult, and I’m getting there, but to Dr. Lee, we’ll always be kids.
Drew offers me his arm, and I link mine with his as we head out toward the restaurant. Henry follows close behind.
We settle at the same table Drew had been using while I was training. A drained cup of coffee and a small bowl of half-eaten fruit sit in front of him.
“Feeling better?” Drew asks with a smile, though I can hear the concern beneath his words. Concern I don’t want him passing on to my dad.
“Yeah, just exhausted from the trip.”
“I get it,” he says with a pout, signaling Bobby, one of the servers, to come over.
Bobby greets us, pours water into our glasses from a pitcher, and asks if we’d like to order anything.
“Coffee and scrambled eggs for the young lady, please. And don’t forget that spicy red sauce she likes. More coffee for me. Henry, what about you?”
“Drew, I’m not hungry,” I say, the void in my stomach growing again. “Besides, I don’t know if I should be eating spicy food right now.” I hold up the medication box, pop an antacid pill into my mouth, and wash it down with water.
“Actually … you should. Spicy food’s great for a hangover,” he says with a wink. “Trust me. Coffee can only get you so far. You need something solid in that belly.”
My eyes widen at Drew’s words. Bobby is standing right there, and he knows my dad. Everyone knows everyone around here. Drew needs to keep it down.
This is precisely why I hate the country club. There’s no such thing as privacy.
“I’ll have the same, Bobby,” Henry says with a smile. “Coffee and eggs, please. But throw in three extra egg whites. And I’ll have some of that red sauce, too.”
“Sure thing,” Bobby replies, not bothering to jot down the easy order. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.”
I glare at Henry. He must have told Drew I drank yesterday while I was out.
“It wasn’t me, so don’t look at me like that,” Henry says, as if reading my mind, taking a sip of his water. “You know how Drew operates.”
Drew laughs.
“Naturally, I got worried when your dad told me the two of you didn’t spend the night back at the Batista-Freeman residence.”
“Worried or curious?” I say flatly.
But wait … what does he mean Henry didn’t spend the night back home? Did he go back to the party after dropping me off atGemma’s?
“I wanted to find out why my favorite client fainted at practice this morning. But, you know, it’s part of the job.”
“No, it is not,” I say with an exasperated laugh.
