Chapter 13
That’s when I realized Ryder had gotten the wrong idea about my trip.
But he passed out before I could explain anything, and the paramedics were already loading him onto a stretcher.
I still made my flight.
This book fair was make-or-break for my career-I wasn’t missing it for anyone.
When I got back from Italy a week later, I figured basic human decency required at least one hospital visit.
Ryder was sitting up in bed with his leg in a cast and his head wrapped in gauges, looking absolutely miserable.
“You’re back. Where’s your college boy?”
I kept it simple: “We broke up before he left.”
His water glass slipped right out of his hands and soaked his hospital blanket.
He tried to act casual about it-just a little “huh”-but the guy was practically glowing.
He looked like he’d won the lottery.
Two days later, I got a call at work:
‘Hi, is this Mr. Cross’s emergency contact? He has physical therapy this afternoon and needs family support.”
That became my new normal-getting calls from Mount Sinai three times a week.
I got so used to it I’d just automatically answer: “Yep, I’ll be there in twenty.”
I’d looked at Ryder’s X-rays myself. The break really wasn’t that bad.
But somehow he kept having “complications” that required more visits and more “emotional support.”
My mom was so worried she started making him these elaborate homemade soups, insisting I deliver them personally.
But she was also playing the field with my dating life.
Her college sorority sister had a son who was apparently “perfect for me.”
When I found out this mystery man was an orthopedic surgeon who worked literally across the street from Ryder’s hospital, I agreed to meet him.
had a suspicion I wanted to confirm.
deliberately chose the Starbucks on the first floor of Ryder’s hospital for my blind date.
Dr. William was three years older than me and had lost his wife in a car accident two years ago. He’d been avoiding the dating scene until his mom guilt-tripped nim into meeting me.
Knowing he wasn’t actually looking for anything serious made me feel less guilty about using our coffee date as cover for my little investigation.
About twenty minutes in, my phone buzzed with a text from Ryder:
[Where are you? PT appointment started ten minutes ago.]
I casually typed back: [ Grabbing coffee with a date downstairs. Be up soon.]
Then I started the timer on my Apple Watch.
At exactly 4 minutes and 18 seconds, Ryder came limping out of the elevator on his crutches, totally winded.
I’d already mapped it out-getting from the orthopedic wing to the lobby should take a genuinely injured person at least twelve minutes, minimum,
Busted
I waved my watch at him: “That’s some world-class healing right there.”
Suddenly he clutched his chest, his voice going all breathy: “Jess, something’s wrong… I can’t…”
I rolled my eyes: “The dramatic fainting spells are a bit much, don’t you think?”
But then his face went gray and he reached toward me with a shaking hand.
He hit the floor before I could catch him.
