Free Needs A Little TLC (Spinning Hills Romance 2) by Inés Saint

flushed. Why had she gotten on that bike? This was where feeling free had landed her. In a cage.
    There were two Sams in her memory, and as she sat there, she did her best to remember the one who’d let her down. There was no way in seven hells she’d let him carry her in. She’d drag herself through the parking lot before that happened.
    Sam parked right in front of the ER and tried to carry her in, but she pushed him away and hopped in on one leg. Hop hop hop. Rest. Hop hop hop. Rest. She looked back, feeling ridiculous. Sam was watching her, arms folded, lips drawn in a tight line. She hopped on.
    The room was half-full and they were told it would be at least an hour. They handed her a clipboard with a few forms and she hopped over to the nearest seat. Sam left to move his truck.
    By the time he came back, her knee had gone from stinging pain to throbbing ache. “I’ll see if I can get you something for it,” Sam said, as if he could read her mind.
    When he came back with water and a little blue packet containing ibuprofen, she looked up and met his eyes with a cool gaze. “I’m sure you have plenty to do. You don’t have to stay.”
    “It was my fault. I’ll stay.” He reached for a magazine, propped his foot up on the table in front of them, and began to read.
    “The more things change . . .” Cassie muttered, her frustration mounting. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, memories of the Sam she wanted to forget flooded her, and she regretted saying anything at all.
    Sam had always been one to shoulder blame. His mom always tried to blame Dan when the boys got into trouble, which was often, but Sam would always step up and accept responsibility. He’d do it privately, when his brothers weren’t around to deny it. He’d ask Cassie to back him up, and she’d do it, because it was what he really wanted.
    Sam’s eyes were on her now, so she picked up the pen and began filling out the second form. Ignoring him had worked best. A moment later, he turned back to his magazine. “Don’t forget to write down you’re allergic to penicillin.”
    Cassie ground her teeth. As if she’d forget.
    “And remember local anesthesia doesn’t work well on you. You usually need a greater amount.”
    Crap. She’d forgotten that. She hadn’t needed local anesthesia in over fifteen years, when she’d badly mangled a toenail when she’d tripped over Johnny’s drum set.
    He turned a page in the magazine he was looking through. “I read an article once about how it’s a redhead thing. There’s this mutation or something in a gene responsible for fair skin and red hair. The same gene can also make local anesthetics less effective.”
    She glowered at him but he didn’t look up. “Quit acting like you know me, Sam. It’s as adults that we grow. We’ve been apart our entire adult lives and kids don’t know a thing. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”
    “You’d think.”
    “I didn’t even know you back then, remember?”
    Finally he looked at her, and she knew. He’d been pushing her buttons and he had her right where he wanted her. So much for saying he didn’t know her.
    “Don’t forget your appendectomy in the past surgeries section.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ve been wondering if that redheaded gene I was telling you about is responsible for temper tantrums, too. I’ll look it up now.”
    It took all of Cassie’s inner strength to keep her mouth shut and the clipboard in her hand and off the top of his head. She was about to jot down her appendectomy when a sudden movement caught her attention. She looked up to see Jessica entering the ER, waving a pair of tweezers in the air. “Here you go. See? I didn’t forget.” She reached Cassie and handed her the package, looking triumphant. “How are you feeling?”
    Cassie was dumbfounded. “Thank you, Jess! But I’m not going to be here overnight. It’s just a bruise and a scratch.”
    “You landed on your head. You could