“Thanks, Stevie, I really appreciate this,” Nolan says before he takes a giant bite of his sandwich.

“I know you do. How are you feeling now?”

“Much better,” he says through a mouthful of ham, swiss, and bread.

“I’m still going to take you to urgent care after you finish eating,” I tell him.

“You don’t need to do that. I’m fine.” He wipes away some mustard with a napkin.

“Fine or not, we’re going to urgent care to make sure. And we’re going to find your insulin case before we go and replace the dose we used so I have them on hand.” I arch a brow—an invitation to challenge me.

He blows out a breath. “I’ll find it eventually.”

It’s my turn to sigh. “Look, Nolan, I know living with this isn’t easy, but it’s not going to go away, and brushing this off like it’s nothing isn’t helpful either. Bishop worries about you a lot, and when you don’t take your own health seriously, it stresses him out.”

His expression shifts to annoyance. “It’s not his problem; it’s mine.”

“It might be yours to live with, but it affects him too. You’re his best friend. Do you know how hard it is for him when he’s away and he doesn’t know if you’re taking your medication, or if you’re out until whatever time in the morning? What you’re doing and how you treat your body is shortening the time you have here.”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I’m fine.”

“Only because I was here and Bishop left me with doses. What if you couldn’t find the dose and you didn’t make it to urgent care tonight? What if you’d gone into shock, and that’s how he found you when he came home tomorrow night? Your lack of regard for your own health is actually really selfish. Bishop would be absolutely devastated if something happened to you while he was away.”

He drops his head, looking ashamed of himself. “I just want to be normal.”

“I get it, I really do, but you’re a diabetic, and that means you have to treat your body better, and it means that you can’t abuse it. My dad took such good care of himself, and we still lost him when he was in his fifties. It sucks that I don’t have a dad anymore. Don’t leave Bishop without a best friend or a brother because you’re reckless with your life.” I push up off the couch, worried I’m about to get emotional. “Once you’re finished eating, we’re going to check your apartment for your insulin, and then we’re going to urgent care. No arguments.”

“Okay.” Nolan finishes his sandwich and doesn’t put up a fight when I follow him back to his place. I manage to find his insulin pack—in the fridge. Apparently when he got home from his afternoon shift, he had a snack and took his shot, and that’s where the case ended up.

That mystery solved, I drive him to the closest urgent care and wait while the doctor checks him over. He’s fine, which is a relief. By the time we’re done, it’s after ten.

“Sorry if I ruined whatever plans you had this evening,” Nolan says once we’re back on the penthouse floor, heading for our respective apartments.

“I didn’t have any plans.” Apart from watching hockey and thinking about his brother.

Nolan pauses with his hand on the door. “Thanks for helping me out tonight. I’d ask you if you want to hang out, but I’m pretty sure Shippy would murder me.”

“Why would he murder you for hanging out with me?”

Nolan gives me a quizzical look, then shakes his head and laughs. “Have a good night, Stevie.”

He disappears into his apartment without answering my question. He’s kind of an odd guy, but then so is his brother.

I haven’t heard from Bishop since he messaged this morning to let me know the team’s return flight was delayed. I considered calling Lainey to find out when they’d be home, but that could have incited questions I didn’t want to answer, and messaging for an update would have seemed slightly desperate, so all I can do now is look at the weather and wait. Apparently there’s some stupid storm in the Midwest affecting flights.

It’s a quarter after five, and I’m here, at this gala fundraiser, currently dateless. Thanks to Pattie and Jules peer pressuring me out of something simple and black, I’m wearing a dress that conforms to all my curves and shows off a lot more skin than I’m used to beyond workout gear. It’s a dark purple to complement my lavender hair, which I dyed again this week in preparation for the event.

I’ve already been approached three times, by three different guys, two of whom attend the college and are on one team or another, and also by one of their coaches. He looked to be in his midforties, and as flattered as I am, he’s old enough to be my father, so that’s a hard nope for me. I might have daddy issues, but not those kind.

Joey apparently had a date lined up, but she came down with the flu or food poisoning—the story keeps changing—so he’s a lone wolf on the prowl. I hope I don’t become his target of choice since Bishop isn’t here. So far I’ve managed to avoid being cornered, but it’s only a matter of time before he tracks me down.

“Bishop better not stand me up,” I say to Pattie. She and Jules decided to be each other’s date because there are a lot of hot guys at these events.

“He’s not going to stand you up.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s way into you.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Ever since he picked up my suitcase and we had that conversation, things have been different. Sure, he’s been around more, picking me up all the time and hanging out at my place after sessions, but he doesn’t make passes at me like he used to, and he hasn’t tried to hump on me at all. It’s just been those freaking forehead or temple kisses. Maybe seeing me melt down over Joey made him reevaluate his position. Plus I told him to pretend the almost-kiss-hump-off didn’t happen. And I think he’s actually taken me seriously, but now it’s messing with my head. Which I realize is my fault.

Joey, being the opportunistic asshole he is, picks that very moment to interrupt our conversation. He slings an arm over my shoulder, having approached us from behind so we wouldn’t see him coming.

Last night I was here with Pattie and Jules until ten, putting up decorations. We had to watch the game on our cell phones, which was annoying. We came back early this morning to finish up. Joey conveniently “forgot” he was supposed to be part of the setup equation. On principle it frustrates me, but I have to say I was pretty grateful I didn’t have to deal with him last night.

He gives me what he thinks is his sexy smile and notches up the smarmy levels by staring at my chest for far too long. The dress dips low in the front. I don’t have particularly big boobs—a solid handful—but they’re perky enough that I can get away with going braless, which is important in this dress with the plunging neckline—again, Pattie’s and Jules’s influence.

He lets out a low whistle. “Wow, Stevie, love the dress.”

“Super glad it has your seal of approval.”

I try to slip out from under his arm, but he tightens his grip on my shoulder, keeping me glued to his side.