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“Bodhi,” she breathed, arching into him. “Your touch is incendiary.”

“You tell me that and want me to stop?” His mouth was on her breast, sucking her nipples into the wet heat of his mouth.

She sighed, feeling her will to behave responsibly drain onto the ancient wood floor.

And then he jerked at her touch and hissed in a breath. It was like a dash of cold water.

“Please, Bodhi, let’s ice your wrist. And clean it. And get some ibuprofen in you.”

“And then get horizontal.”

“We got work to do, Mr. one-track mind.”

“Nothing more important than this.” He kissed her, but she could see pain edging his expression.

“Nothing more important than taking care of yourself,” she admonished.

“I have a first aid kit in my truck. A pretty big one,” he teased.

“The truck, the first aid kit, or something else big?”

“All of it, and while we’re making a list, I got big plans for later.”

She laughed and held his hand as they walked back to where he’d parked. She cleaned his arm with antibacterial wipes and wrapped and taped some gauze over his gash after dabbing some ointment on the shallow wound. Then she found the chemical cold pack, shook it and laid it over his wrist.

He pulled some cold water bottles out of the cooler and handed her one.

“It’s not too late to go to medical school,” she said.

He shrugged and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Not everyone goes straight out of undergrad.”

“I know.” He drank his water, closed off from her.

She knew she shouldn’t push. She knew it. They weren’t really a couple. But then again, she’d never really been part of a couple, not like she thought it could be with Bodhi. But he was holding something back and she was holding a whole lot of somethings back. So much of her life and then professional career had been protecting a lie, and she was sick of it.

“We talked about being honest with each other.”

He winced. Direct hit.

She waited. His shoulders drooped infinitesimally. Would he sayasparagus?

“We talked about being as honest as we could even as we set up what is essentially a lie.”

“It doesn’t feel like a lie to me,” she risked, but even she was not ready to tell him everything. She loved the way he looked at her. Loved the way he held her. Bodhi was all about his family and his land’s legacy. He wouldn’t understand her world. He’d despise it and her.

“I might have something going on health wise at some point not too far down the road.” His voice sounded dry as dirt.

Her ears buzzed. Not what she’d been anticipating.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “I don’t want my family to know. We clear?”

His eyes and the lines on his face were stark. She nodded even though she wasn’t clear on anything. Not. At. All. Fear clawed through her.

“Bodhi.” Her hands ran over his body. “Whatever it is, you can fight it.”

They could fight it. No matter what happened with the court case and the fines and all of it, she still had money. So much money. She could pay for his treatment. Whatever it was. What could it be? Terror—so unfamiliar and debilitating—clogged her throat. Seized her limbs, making them feel cold and heavy and clumsy.