“Get your shit together,” I muttered.
“Talking to yourself already?” I heard Max’s voice before I saw him.
I opened my eyes. Max stood near the equipment room with a grin on his face and a coffee in his hand.
“Go away,” I said.
“Strong leadership,” he cackled.
“Don’t you have something to do?” I was being a grump, and he didn’t deserve it, but he was Catherine’s cousin and I wasn’t any good at hiding feelings.
“Mostly avoiding mobility testing and hanging with Leo.” He shrugged.
“You look hungover,” he noted.
“I wonder why,” I said dryly. “I’m not built for nights out drinking anymore.”
He laughed. “Did that blonde message you?”
“Yes, shithead. Why would you give a woman like that my number?” I asked.
“Sorry, bro. I thought letting off some steam would help with your mood,” he replied.
“Thanks, but I don’t need that kind of woman,” I admitted.
“No? What kind of woman do you want? Maybe I can help.” He crossed his arms and watched me intently. He got around, but he was a good guy. He came from a good home where his parents were doting and lovey-dovey.
“Someone serious and kind but fun and pretty, who would be good with Isla too,” I went on like an idiot, picturing Catherine, which was a bad idea.
“Whoa, you don’t want a hookup. You’re ready to settle down,” Max said.
“I don’t know. The thought terrifies me. Everything is perfect in my life now. Why rock the boat?” I admitted.
“This is the Amy trauma talking,” Max observed.
I winced. “I thought we don’t mention her name.”
“Maybe we should,” Max urged. “It’s been years. The only way you’re going to get over it is by talking about it and figuring out why women still scare the shit out of you.”
I shook my head. “It’s good you aren’t a therapist. I better go.”
He chuckled. “Sorry I wasn’t more help. In all honesty, I probably need therapy too,” he called out as I walked away from him.
I headed toward the medical offices before anyone else wanted to give me their two cents about my mood. Catherine was sitting at a desk in one of the smaller offices off the medical hallway. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she was wearing the navy scrubs again. The ones that should not have done anything for me. They were scrubs, but for some reason, they were so fucking hot. I hoped she didn’t hear Max and me talking because that would be super embarrassing. Besides, she was too young to settle down. She looked exhausted. There were faint shadows under her eyes, and she had a coffee beside her laptop. Papers were spread across the desk, and she was typing with the kind of focus that made me wonder how long she had been there. I should’ve kept walking.
“Morning,” I said, leaning one shoulder against the doorway.
She looked up, and for half a second, the elevator was right there between us.
Then she blinked and straightened. “Hi.”
“You look tired,” I said.
Her brow lifted. “Good morning to you too.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re right.” She glanced down at her coffee. “I am tired.”