“Oh yeah? A good guy lawyer or a bad guy lawyer?” he asks, before adding, “And I mean ‘guy’ as a casual expression of slang, not as gendered term, so don’t come at me with your patriarchal bullshit again.”

I smirk. He’s quick. Just like Dempsey.

“I haven’t decided. I think I would do well as a corporate lawyer or a high-profile defensive attorney. But I also have a soft spot for the underdog.”

“Clearly,” he jibes, wincing when I apply ointment to the cut at his temple and put one more bandage in place.

There. I’ve patched up every injury I can find.

“Why’d you do it, Field?”

When he doesn’t answer, I push harder.

“Why would you go to a party and pick a fight when you knew your brother was preoccupied with your mom tonight?”

He turns his head, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. At least he has the decency to look remorseful.

He sighs, then slides off the countertop, leaning back and crossing one tan, sinewy arm across his bare chest. I’ve been watching his movements since he got out of the shower. He’s barely using his right arm. I make a mental note to mention it to Dempsey.

“I didn’t set out to cause chaos tonight. Sometimes… sometimes the night just gets to me.”

“That sounds like a cop-out to me,” I muse. “We’ve known each other a long time, Field. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Fielding scoffs. His eyes get this glassy, faraway look, and his next words come out just above a whisper.

“You don’t know me anymore, Little Wheeler. I barely know me anymore.”

That doesn’t make sense. But it sounds honest.

He clears his throat and perks up two seconds later, all the somberness of his confession dispelled like it never happened.

“Ya know, I was almost a doctor. We would have made a pretty awesome power couple.”

I roll my eyes and pick up the trash from the bandages and gauze. “You mean you were almost a gentleman doctor?”

He barks out a laugh that makes me feel lighter. His laugh is louder than Dempsey’s. More jovial and free. But they have the same cadence. I wonder if Dempsey ever laughs that hard.

Speaking of…

I feel his eyes on me without looking up to confirm he’s there. He lights up my insides in a totally different way. All he has to do is enter a room, and it’s like the 5G maxes out with five bars of service in every limb of my body.

As much as he wants to deny it, he and I just work. He feels easy. Inevitable. I know he feels it. I think he hates it. But there’s no denying the energy that courses between us every time we’re in the same room.