“I offered to take her and offered to pay the bill.”
Bryan interrupted, “Why would you take her to the fuck pad and not back to your parents? I thought you liked her. I mean, you introduced her to us without checking with us.”
“Bryan–” Eric tried to check his friend.
“No, Eric. Let’s talk about this. Do you have a problem with this?” I stopped what I was doing to wave my fingers for Eric to hand me his phone.
Eric exhaled and brushed off my request for his phone. “This is not why I called you. Can we focus on the fact that Anderson wants to move in with Jurnee?”
Silence.
32
Jurnee
The throbbing in my ankle woke me from my dreams. The Tylenol I had taken after my fall had worn off. By the silence in the house, it seemed Anderson was not back from picking up a few things from the sublet. I touched my ankle to see if the swelling had reduced. It had not.
There is no way you are going out tonight. Reaching for my phone, I scrolled to Soraya Morgan’s name and hit text.
Jurnee - I have to cancel wine night.
Soraya - Not allowed. I got a babysitter, and Graham has a late meeting.
Jurnee - Hurt myself at Central Park. Can’t really walk.
I attached a picture of my ankle with a huge bag of ice resting on it. There was no way I was lifting the bag and looking. The swollen purple color was getting worse, and I knew I would have to go get it looked at.
Soraya - Oh fuck. What did the doctor say?
I sent her the shrugging girl emoji.
Soraya - No insurance?
Jurnee - Out of network. It’ll cost a fortune.
Soraya - I remember those days. Where are you?
Jurnee - Apparently, I’m at Anderson’s actual house. Which is almost as nice as his parent’s home.
Soraya - LMAO He is doing everything all backward with you. I’m enjoying this so much. Stay there. I’m on my way.
Jurnee - I don’t think I can go anywhere.
An hour later, Soraya stormed into the living room loaded down with bags and being followed by a handsome older man. Leaning down to hug me, she whispered that she was there to help and not to worry about the insurance stuff.
“Jurnee, I’d like to meet Dr. Braxton Harlow.” Soraya moved a chair from the other side of the room and placed it in between the sofa and the large coffee table. “He’s a legal drug dealer, but he’s also the kindest doctor that I know. Braxton, sit here.”
“Very nice to meet you, Sir. I’m sorry for not standing to greet you properly.” I pushed my hair out of my face to give the doctor a smile.
“Nonsense, no need to get up. I understand you took a tumble and twisted your ankle. Is that about right?”
“It is.”
“May I take a look?”
I nodded as Soraya took the ice pack from me and headed toward the kitchen. As the doctor moved and turned my foot, I scrunched my face up from the pain. Soraya returned in time to see him gently set my foot back on the pillow after his thorough examination.
“The good news is it isn’t broken. The not so great news is it’s badly sprained and will be more painful tomorrow.” He removed a small pad from his coat pocket and made some notes. Tearing off the top sheet, he handed it to Soraya. As Dr. Harlow began to explain, Anderson and Eric entered the room.
“Dr. Harlow, what a surprise.” Anderson extended his hand to the seated doctor.
“Anderson Douglas. It has been too long. How are your parents doing? I haven’t heard anything from them for quite some time.”
“They’re still in France, so all is good.” Anderson said with a chuckle. He gestured down to me, “How’s our patient?”
“Hey,” I gave Eric a quick wave as he plopped into a chair across from the sofa.
“How you doing?” He chuckled at my eye roll. “Understand completely.”
Dr. Harlow stood for his announcement, “My recommendation is for Ms. Jurnee to stay off the foot for the next few days, elevate the leg above her heart, pain meds to manage the discomfort. Soraya, hand me the bandage.”
He returned to the chair and slowly wrapped from my toes up to above my ankle. “Who is going to be assisting Jurnee?”
“I will be.” Anderson piped up, and I caught something pass over Eric’s face.
“Great, see how I started this down here and worked my way up? That’s how you’re going to want to do it. Keep it wrapped for twenty-four hours. If there is still this much swelling in 48 hours, I want her taken in for x-rays. And, Missy, I don’t give a darn about your out-of-network insurance issues. Am I clear?”
“Yes,” Anderson replied as he stared down at me.
“Yes, Sir.” My words were a whisper.
“Alright,” Soraya chimed in, “Anderson, I brought snacks, games, and a couple of books to help keep this one entertained. Are you sticking around for the rest of the day?”
“Not going anywhere–”
“Good.” Soraya smiled down at me. “Braxton, will you join me for an afternoon cocktail? It’s the least I can do for disrupting your day with a house call.”
The doctor beamed. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I declined such an offer?”
He handed me a business card with only his name and phone number. They said their goodbyes to everyone and headed for the door. Dr. Harlow paused, “Do not hesitate to contact me if it gets worse. We’ll get a picture of it. Deal?”
“Deal.” Anderson gritted his teeth through his response. Something told me he was not pleased about the current situation. “Thank you, Soraya. Dr. Harlow.”
Anderson escorted the visitors to the door. When I glanced in Eric’s direction, he gave me a quick smile. I returned the smile. Okay. Weird.
Anderson crossed the room and sat in the chair left by Dr. Harlow. There was definitely something going on. It didn’t take Anderson long to get straight to the point.
“We need to talk.”
His tone made me nervous. “Okay.”
Eric raised his hands and chuckled, “Sorry, Jurnee. I’ve waited a long time to watch Anderson get put in his place. I really want to enjoy this.”
Anderson rolled his eyes. “Thanks, man. Can you at least get her a bottle of water?”
“Got one.” I lifted the bottle Soraya had given me.
“There you go. She’s got one. Go ahead.”
“Jurnee.”
“Anderson.”
“Jurnee.”
“Anderson.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Eric barked as he headed for the door.
“Jurnee,” he raised his hand to stop me from saying anything. He started to speak when Eric returned with a large suitcase and several bags.
“Dude, where do you want me to put all of Jurnee’s stuff that we cleared out of her apartment?”
All of Jurnee’s stuff. Cleared out of her apartment.
Twisting, I tried to maneuver around the chair that was blocking me from getting up.
“No!” Anderson and Eric yelled in unison. Anderson lifted my good leg back up onto the pillow.
“You are to stay put. Doctor’s orders.”
“What is he talking about?” I crossed my arms across my chest, no longer feeling the pain in my ankle. “What are you talking about, Eric?”
“My job is done here. I’ll leave these by the elevator.” A moment later, Eric yelled from the other room. “Feel better, Jurnee. Anderson, call me anytime you need my help. Later.”
The two of us stared at one another for several minutes before Anderson got up to return the chair to where it belonged. He returned to the sofa and slid his hands under my knees and around my back, lifting me into the air.
“This is not necessary for you to tell me why all of my belongings are sitting in bags next to the elevator.”
He lowered himself down on the sofa, ensuring that my ankle made a gentle landing on the pillow. “Necessary, probably not, but we’re going to have a serious conversat
ion, and I’d like to be as close to you as possible while we talk. Is that okay? Me, holding you?”
“I don’t hate it, but it’s not going to distract me from needing to know why all my stuff is here and not at my sublet.”
“All of your belongings, as you so dramatically stated, are not in bags by the elevator. All your belongings are in Michigan in your house.”
“Really. That’s your argument, counselor?”
“My opening statement. If I may continue?” His lips placed a soft kiss on my neck, right behind my ear.
My body relaxed against his chest. Unlike Eric’s pumped up muscles, Anderson was long and lean like the swimmer I’d watched one summer years ago. I felt his fingers gently turn my face so he could look in my eyes. A flippy-flop happened in my stomach when his lips stopped inches from mine.
“I am so sorry we were arguing. I’m sorry I didn’t fully explain the apartment offer.”
“That is a mammoth understatement, but continue.”
He surprised me with a quick peck. My connection to the man whose lap I sat on gave me a shiver. His forehead rested against mine.
“I’d like you to move in here—my house. I live at my parents’ house, so we won’t be living together. This place is empty.” His eyes darted to my ankle.
“I don’t think–” Anderson pressed his lips against mine for a moment.
“Look, the place is available. You need a place and staying here would give you some time to bank some money. I’ll know you’re a saver.”
“Can I bring dates here?” I fought to keep a straight face, but the flash of emotions that Anderson went through made it impossible not to laugh.
“Yes. You can bring dates here anytime you want.”
“Really?” My voice just about cracked.
“Sure. As long as I’m the date you’re bringing.”
This time when he kissed me, I didn’t let him pull away so quickly.
“You are giving in way too easily. You’re going to stay here?”
“Yes.” I crossed my fingers. A battle this size had its time and place. This wasn’t it.
“Wow. Alright. That was way easier than I anticipated. Thank you. After seeing the building you were staying in, I’m only sorry I didn’t offer you the use of this place sooner.”
Growling sounds came out of my stomach. “I’m getting hungry. Would you toss me one of those bags of snacks that Soraya brought?”
Anderson lifted me, watching my ankle, and slid out from under me. The bag had all the food groups covered. Salt. Sweet. Savory. Coffee. “Chocolate-covered coffee beans. Soraya is the best person in the world.”
“Hello. I just gave you a house.”
Giggling, I mouthed, ‘chocolate-covered coffee beans.’
“Don’t eat too much, I’m ordering dinner.” He bent down and opened his mouth for a candy.
“I’m injured and stuck on a sofa for the next forty-eight hours, and you want to limit my chocolate-covered coffee beans intake?” The plastic wrapper crinkled as I held it to my chest.
He nodded with his sexy ass grin. That’s when it hit me. There was no way I was going to be able to refuse him anything. Gently digging out the two biggest beans, I placed them in his mouth, and he wrapped his lips around my fingers, sucking them a little. Dear Jesus.
“You better take it easy and get all healed up. I’ve got some serious plans for us, and you’ll need all your strength for what I have in mind.”
His chuckle turned into a belly laugh as he watched the flush of red that I felt in my cheeks. Usually, I wasn’t this shy, but for some reason, his words promised something I didn’t think I’d ever experienced. He’s going to consume me.
33
Jurnee
The sound of laughter and squeals floating in from another room on the floor roused me from my half-asleep state and almost sent me flying off the toilet seat. My ankle throbbed from the short walk to the bathroom, so I used the counter for balance as I pulled up my panties. A muffled male voice seeped through the wall.
I mentally kicked myself for insisting Anderson go back to his parents’ house. The argument he presented to justify him staying was solid, but I needed to put some distance between us. Well, at least until I was healed. There was no trusting we wouldn’t try to get creative, even with my injured ankle.
When I heard champagne glasses clanging together mixed with familiar laughter, I exhaled the fear that had been coursing through me.
The stair rail bore my weight as I made my way down to the kitchen. Rounding the corner, Otis stood holding a champagne bottle in one and a champagne glass in the other. He was naked.
“Oh my God!” I covered my eyes with my left hand and leaned against the wall with my right.
Startled, he jumped in front of his equally naked friend. The glass she was holding slipped out of her hand and scattered upon impact to the floor.
“Jurnee?!” Otis shouted.
Reaching to clean up the mess, I stepped on a piece of glass. Stumbling back on my injured ankle, I went down to the ground in pain.
“Jesus. Fuck!” Otis moved further away from me.
The pain was so bad that I didn’t care who saw me crying. Unfortunately, all the tears I had been holding in since hurting my foot earlier came pouring down my cheeks too. There was no stopping it.
“Oh fuck, you’re hurt. Don’t move.” He headed for the doorway with his friend.
I sobbed as I tried to use one of the island chairs to get up, but fell back down. Blood spread across the floor like a spaghetti sauce spill with the first paper towel wipe. Getting onto my knees, I was suddenly lifted like I weighed no more than a rag doll.
“Jesus, Jurnee. I told you not to move. Do you ever listen to anyone?”
Thankfully, Otis had slipped on a pair of shorts. He carried me into the living room as I stated the obvious, “I’m bleeding.”
“Yes. Yes, you are.” Otis placed me down on the sofa. “What are you doing here?” He ran his fingers through his wild hair.
“I sprained my ankle in the park today. Anderson brought me here because it was closer than his parents’ house.”
We finished the end of the sentence in unison. My eyes were glued to his with every movement as he looked at the bottom of my foot.
“At least when you set out to do something, you do it right.” He stretched his neck to get a better look. His hands dragged down the front of his shorts like he was either preparing for his turn in a playground game or had sweaty palms.
“Don’t move.” He took two steps toward the opening of the living room and stopped. “For the record, when I say don’t move, I mean don’t move.”
I put my hands up in surrender. The pillow Anderson had wedged under my leg was still on the end table at the end of the sofa. Checking to see if Otis was coming, I threw my legs off the sofa and began to scoot down toward the pillow.
“You absolutely can’t help yourself, can you?”
Wrinkling up my face, I shrugged my shoulders. “I was just going to get the pillow to put under my legs. The doctor said I should keep it elevated.”
Otis reached for the pillow and carefully placed it under my legs. We both stared down at my ankle. He moved the chair closer to my feet, then picked up a paper towel and wiped the bottom of my foot with it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to take the piece of glass out of the bottom of your foot.” His words were focused and intense, his voice calm and steady like it was a procedure he had been training for years.
“It’s gonna hurt.” I sniffled, and the tears that had subsided returned full force.
“No, it won’t.”
“Yes, it will.” I pouted, wiping the tears off my cheek.
“No, it won’t.”
“Yes… ouch. It hurts.”
“Yes, but it’s also out of your foot.” Otis placed the jagged piece of glass on the end table and wiped the very center of the bottom of my foot.
“Thi
s might–” I hissed and drew my legs to my body, “–sting. Please don’t cry. Should I call Anders–”
“No!” I snapped.
“Huh. There’s a story.” He stood and looked down at me with a huge grin on his face. “Now, I’m going to go clean up the glass and check on the lovely lady in the other room. When I come back, I want to hear this interesting story you have for me. And if you move a muscle while I’m doing any of those things, I’ll call your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, Otis.” I crossed my arms over my chest like a spoiled little girl waiting for her demanded treat.
Otis laughed as he left the room. He continued laughing in the kitchen where I heard what sounded like glass being tossed into the trash. The laughter died down when I assumed he went into the bedroom where he had stashed the lady friend.
Ten minutes later, Otis returned and handed me a bottle of water, and sat down across from me. In the chair Eric had occupied only hours earlier, he took a sip of the amber liquid in the glass he carried in with the water bottle.
“Where were we?”
“I am not Anderson’s girlfriend.”
He smiled at me over his glass. “Okay. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
I glared at him. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”
“I’m here because I’ve been friends with Anderson since we were eighteen, and I have a key to his house.” He sat up and rested his forearms on his legs, waiting for my response.
“I hurt my ankle at the park. Anderson insisted we come here because it was closest. He went to the apartment I’m subletting and, well, he packed up all my stuff and brought it back here. Bu–”
“Yeah, you’re right. You definitely aren’t his girlfriend.”
“We haven’t talked about that.” My voice betrayed my desire to sound nonchalant.
“You’re here. Really, what more of a conversation needs to be had?” Otis’s voice was soft and oddly comforting.
“I don’t know. The conversation where we address the fact that I have nothing to bring to the table. He has everything. His family has more money than I can wrap my head around.” My hands waved in the air as if I released a juicy secret I’d been keeping inside.
Mister Manhattan: A Hero Club Novel Page 16