The steam tendrils from her cup of coffee caressed her face. She contemplated the small apartment around her. Jose and I are fine here, as we are. I mean, sure, less mold would be nice, but we don’t need riches and a crazy lifestyle. We do, however, need a roof over our heads. Angel’s stomach squeezed at the decision before her. She needed to pass her exams so she could get a permanent nursing job, but Dr. Collins … She shuddered. The thought of his fingers touching her, groping her. Bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t do it. She was going to lose a career before she really got started.

Pft. She leaned back in the chair, forced herself to stretch out the tenseness. We will be fine, too. I don’t have to be a nurse. I’m a hard worker. I can bartend … Okay, not at the Peacock, but somewhere. Hell, I can join the army.

But how would she buy Jose’s medicine between jobs? Or pay rent? It was all so complicated. Her head throbbed. Enough of that. I will focus on what I can do, right now. I’ll worry about later … later.

Maybe the doctor was bluffing.

Randomly, her eyes settled on a dish towel on the counter and, suddenly, thoughts of the doctor and what was surely a wormy penis faded to number two on the worry list as she remembered the pile of bathroom towels she’d forgotten to wash. Shit. Jose was going to have to use one of her T-shirts to dry off after his shower. Again.

The early rays of dawn filtered under the blinds in Duke’s bedroom. He lay on his back in bed, unable to appreciate the high thread count of his sheets or the rough-hewn cedar ceiling beams he’d been staring at for hours.

He’d spent the afternoon and evening before in his car, staring at dark, choppy waves in Long Island Sound, ignoring his phone and drinking beer as his brain looped over and over what was said at the meeting with his manager. Staring had yet to solve his problem.

Choice one: admit my ankle isn’t healed, become a loser.

Choice two: get the crazy doctor to shoot me up with steroids and painkillers, lie my ass off.

I just wanted to be a good guy and play ball. What happened? He could see why Angel steered clear of him. He wouldn’t drag her back in.

The morning light was moving over the walls, getting stronger. Duke heaved himself out of bed, threw on a pair of shorts, and made his way to his dad’s side of the house. Knocking on the suite door, he said, “Pops? Pops, I need to talk to you.”

After a second, the door cracked open. Willis, eyes heavy with sleep, wore a short silk bathrobe. “Now?”