“So, as a fellow, you’ve already done your residency?” I asked, trying to redirect my thoughts.

When he didn’t answer I gave him my eyes. “I have, yes.”

The way he was looking at me caused me to blush. Uhhh, I don’t blush. “In what department is your fellowship?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Sports Medicine.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Wait, if I went into Sports Med, we would be working together.”

“Yes, we would. Would that be a bad thing?”

I looked back down at my hands. “No. But now I understand why you asked. I just don’t think it’s a department that will have any openings when I go apply next week.”

“I could always put in a good word for you if you’d like.”

“No!” I said too loudly, meeting his blue eyes again. “I mean, no, but thank you. I’d like to do this on my own.”

He nodded. “Understood.” Dropping his arms back down to his sides, he pointed to my leg. “You can take the ice off now.”

I glanced down. “Oh, right.” I lifted the cloth from my leg and set it on the counter beside me. I was about to thank him for helping me when sounds came from the back door.

“I swear you two are going to end up killing each other,” Wrigley said to Dodger as they walked into the kitchen completely oblivious to Turner and me.

“Whatever, little brother. Mind your own damn business,” Dodger growled.

Wrigley chuckled and held his hands up in the air. “Hey, man, all I’m saying is, work your shit out. Macie still digs you, but both of you are being stubborn. Just tell her you’re sorry and move on.”

Dodger grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and tilted his head back as he downed the entire thing. When he finished, he tossed the bottle into the trash and pointed across the kitchen toward Wrigley. “I’m going to say this once, and the next time you bring it up, I swear I’ll kick your ass. Leave it, alone. Macie and I are not your concern and never will be. Besides, you wouldn’t know how a relationship worked if it bit you in the ass.”

Wrigley chugged his own bottle of water. “Sure I would. I do relationships all the time.”

“Sticking your dick in a girl isn’t the equivalent to having a relationship.”

Turner was grinning and let out a huff in agreement. I looked up at the mammoth of a man that had moved to stand next to me and wondered what on earth he could be smiling about. In fact, I felt weird being witness to this little sibling argument. Donna, the boy’s mother, had taken that moment to walk into the kitchen and gasped.

“Boys, you better not be talking about what I think you’re talking about. There are ladies present and that’s something your mother just doesn’t want to hear.”

“No worries, Ma, the conversation is over,” Dodger replied.

She turned and glared, pointing a finger at her youngest son, Wrigley. “You, mister, had better be wrapping it up if you are having sex. In fact, just stop it! No more sex until you’re married. The last thing I want to find out is that you got some girl pregnant.”

“Jesus, Mom! I’m not talking to you about this.” Wrigley actually had the sense to appear embarrassed. Turner and Dodger smirked at their little brother’s discomfort. “Anyway, change of subject. Hey, Mom, what do you call a guy with no arms or legs in a pile of leaves?”

There was a collective groan in the room. “Wrig, not now,” Turner scolded

He ignored them. “Russell.” He slapped his leg, laughing at his own joke. I let a giggle slip out. In my defense, it was pretty funny. Turner turned to eye me and tilted his head to the side. I shrugged. “Oh man, Belle, did you just laugh? Holy shit, finally someone who appreciates my jokes.” Wrigley came over to me and slung his arm around my shoulder.

My face turned redder than my hair and I looked away from everyone. “I hadn’t heard that one before. It was kind of funny.”

He ruffled my hair like I was a child. What was it about these Brooks boys doing that? “You’re cute.”

Turner smacked Wrigley’s arm off of me and glowered. “First of all, her name is Annabelle, not Belle and second, she was just being polite. Keep your hands to yourself, shithead.”

“Actually,” I spoke to Turner. “Belle is fine, the joke was funny, and thank you for the compliment.” I turned to Wrigley and gave a soft smile.

“Ha! In your face, asshole.”

“Boys,” Donna chastised. Changing the subject, she came over to me and looked at my ankle. “How are you feeling, sweetie? Anything I can get you?”

With all of the commotion going on, I’d completely forgotten about my injury. “No, thank you though. Actually, I think I’m going to get going. It’s been a long day and I’m feeling pretty tired.”

“Okay, honey. Shall I get one of my boys to drive you home? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“No, I appreciate it, but I think I can make on my own—”

“I’ll drive her.” Turner interrupted me.

I twisted to face him, my red hair whipping around. “It’s fine, I said I’ll drive myself.”

His face became hard as stone, and those dominant waves silently worked their way over to me. “I will drive you home in your car, and Dodger can follow behind us to bring me back here.”

I swallowed down the feeling to comply. What on earth was up with this guy? A girl says no, she means it. At least when I said no, I did. “No, thank you.” My voice was strong and firm. There was no room for budging and I didn’t like his sudden change of demeanor.

Donna piped up, “She’s got it, Turner, leave the poor girl be.” She leaned in and hugged me. It was the kindest gesture I’d been given in a long time and a lump formed in my throat. “It was so wonderful meeting you. Please, don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome here anytime. Oh, and congratulations on graduating.” Her smile was so sincere and comforting. I wanted to pull her back into a tight embrace just to feel that motherly warmth, and then run back into my cocoon of silence. Instead, I reciprocated her smile and thanked her for her hospitality.

Scooting off the counter, I saw out of the corner of my eye Turner’s hands twitch to assist me. He probably would have had his mom not been there to slap him away if he tried. I grabbed my purse that I set on the counter opposite me, and started to hobble my way to the door. A slow burn started up my leg, but I refused to ask for help. I looked over my shoulder and plastered on a polite smile. “It was very nice meeting you all. Thank you again for having me. I’m sorry I was such a bother here at the end.”

Just as I reached for the knob, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. “Seriously, Annabelle, I can drive you home. I don’t mind.”

I flipped around to face him. “Truly, I appreciate it, but I’d rather drive myself.”

“Okay, this is going to seem like it’s coming from left field, but I have to ask.” He seemed to steel himself for whatever the question would be. He took a deep breath, then spoke, “Can I take you out sometime?”

I jerked my head back. Left field was right. How had he gone from being a bossy, dominant male to softening his tone and asking me on a date? I shook my head and met his bright blue eyes that appeared confident and hopeful. “Thank you, but I don’t date.”

His certainty faltered and his brows came together. “What do you mean you don’t date?”

I sighed. How do I explain this? “I just don’t date. It doesn’t interest me.” And it really doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely attracted to Turner Brooks, but I see him as risk. In my head, it all played out. I would go out on a date with him. One date would turn into two, two would turn into four and next thing you know there’d be feelings. Once there’s feelings, there’s no turning away from them. Then commitments would happen, and what if something happened? What if he left me because he no longer cared about me, but I was still very much in love with him? What if I got a phone call or knock on the door with news that something terrible had happened to him. I’d never survive it. So I stopped it before it started.