A Sticky Situation (Awkward Love 7)

“You refused to go to therapy when we were kids. Which means half an hour is more than you’ve had in your life,” Brix points out. “This is probably good for you—"

“Just hurry up so I can get out of here. Okay?”

“I’m going as fast as I can, okay?” His tone drops a few levels as his serious side kicks in.

Sighing, I rub my head. I feel sorry for him, whatever he’s going through, but I don’t want to fuck up everything I’ve worked for just to save his ass.

“Are you in trouble?” I ask.

“Aside from the court ordered rehab? No. I just need to get some songs written and I’m on a deadline. That’s it,” he promises.

“Why the fuck can’t you write in here?”

The door opens suddenly, taking me by surprise. I quickly shove the phone under my mattress, then casually glance at the door, at the dreamy-eyed nurse, whose shifting awkwardly on her feet.

“Sorry, Mr. Wilson. They’re waiting for you in group,” she breathes.

Are they fucking kidding me? More therapy?

“Any chance you can cover for me?” I ask, flashing her a smile that sends the color rushing to her cheeks.

“Uh, sure. I’ll think of something,” she breathes, backing out of the room.

I wait until she’s gone, before I pull out the phone. I half expect him to be gone, but I can hear him laughing before I even put the phone to my ear.

“Nice work,” he chuckles. “You sound just like me.”

“It turns out self-obsessed asshole is pretty easy to perfect,” I taunt. “You owe me big time for this,” I add, growling the words into the phone.

“I know I do.” He pauses. “I’ll call you soon.”Chapter 13Hannah“So, does your management ever hold meetings in an actual office?” I tease, glancing at Brix.

He laughs. “Yes, believe it or not, they are occasionally held at the office. Usually, it’s just easier for me to go wherever they want me. They’re so overbooked, I’d be waiting around for hours if I went to the studios and I’m not known for my patience.”

I guess that makes sense, but meetings every day? How can they expect us to rehabilitate him if he’s never there? Sure, he’s a famous rock star, but he’s in rehab, for God’s sake. I can’t figure out why the clinic is so eager to bend over backwards for him.

He looks my way again.

“I guess being a nurse you’d kind of excel at the whole being patient thing, huh?”

I shrug. “Patience is great, but I think time management is even more important. We don’t get enough hours in a shift to do everything we need to do, which can be frustrating.”

“Frustrating when you have to be out with me, you mean?”

“I didn’t say that,” I reply.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, the husky tone of his voice making my throat constrict.

“So what do you do in all these meetings?” I ask, keen to change the subject. I’m probably being nosey, but I don’t care.

“The usual stuff I guess,” he says with a shrug. “Plan tours. Discuss my album. Shit like that,” he murmurs.

I glance at him as he gazes out the window. Is he intentionally being vague?

Maybe he’s afraid I’m going to discover he lip syncs to his songs.

I smirk at the thought.

“Hey, does your car always make that noise?”

“The rattling?” I ask, still trying to work out if he’s avoiding the subject. “I guess so. Is that bad?”

He laughs at my ignorance. “It could be. You might want to get it checked out before an easy fix becomes a very expensive one—”

He stops as a loud bang fills the car. My heart races as my poor little car stops suddenly, sending my lurching forward. When I went out this morning and tried to start it, I was shocked that it did. Maybe driving it without getting a service done was a bad idea though.

“Shit,” I hiss.

“Don't worry,” he assures me. “I'll have a look at it.”

Brix jumps out of the car before I can protest and walks around the front. He thumps his fist down on the hood and motions for me to open it. I pop it, then I get out too and join him around the front. I stand a few feet away to give him space to work, but I regret my decision to get out of the car when I realize I’m standing right behind him, staring at his ass.

Which looks incredible in those jeans…

I try and drag my eyes away, but just as I do, he turns around, catching me.

Fuck.

“Enjoying yourself over there?” He smirks at me.

“Do you know what the problem is?” I ask, abruptly changing the subject.

“Pretty sure I do.”

He grabs the bottom of his shirt and peels it over his head, drawing my eyes to his smooth, tanned chest, my breath catching in my throat as I take in his muscles.