“Fine,” he grunts and looks away.
“Okay, Tucker, Alder is going to stay right with you. I’m going to tip you back, turn on my light, and reach inside to check things out, okay?” Tucker shakes his head, but Alder places a hand on his shoulder. This is going to be a rough one. The twins are probably six-three, their frames occupying the entirety of the available space. Relatable.
Tucker opens his mouth a wee bit, and I nod, reaching a finger inside. “I’m just going to feel your gums for signs of swelling. Good.” I touch the jagged edge of the broken tooth. “Breathe, Tucker.” I didn’t have time to grab a surgical mask, and I inhale a nose full of Tucker’s leftover alcohol. I don’t blame him. I wish I’d gone with him to the bottom of that bottle last night.
He clenches his jaw as I note the fracture lines in what’s left of the tooth. “That’s going to be sharp and sore,” I say, checking for nerve exposure and finding none. “We have a few options. I could put a plastic cap over the remainder of the tooth. It would be pretty fragile…you’d have to be careful chewing, and you would lose it if you got hit in the face again.”
Alder snorts. “You lost him at ‘careful,’ Doc. What’s the other choice?”
I wince and nod. “Well, I’m afraid I’d have to extract the tooth and build you a removable one. I would advise against a permanent implant--”
“Implant?” Tucker’s eyes fly wide, and he jerks his head away. Alder sighs and pats him on the shoulder.
Brian, the agent, tired of waiting, I guess, starts to yell. “Tucker, quit being a baby. She’s going to numb you first and it’s fine.”
“Yes,” I concur. “I’m assuming we don’t want a permanent tooth until you retire.” Tucker shrugs. I spin around in my chair, opening drawers until I find the supplies I need to numb Tucker’s mouth so I can prepare his tooth for extraction. I grab the numbing ointment and a cotton swab, holding it up so he can see. “Numbing gel first, then a shot.”
Tucker emits a wail. Alder leans toward me. “Just do it. He does better if you go fast and just do it.”
I gaze into Alder’s eyes, seeing pain there alongside compassion. I nod and swab Tucker’s cheek, then quickly prepare the shot. “Little pinch,” I say, shaking his lip to distract him. It doesn’t work, and he clenches.
“Do it, Doc,” Brian yells, and I sigh.
I lean closer. “Tuck, I promise this will only hurt for three Mississippis. Okay?” His eyes water, but he nods. I inject the gum as Tucker squeals, then stops.
“There.” I sit back and peel off a glove. “Should be a few minutes, and we can get started.”
Brian takes this opportunity to clear his throat and start talking. “Dr. Sinclair. Lena. I’m sure you’ve seen the headlines by now.”
I furrow my brow. “Headlines?”
He mutters in Yiddish and holds up his phone.
There’s a giant headline,Fury Defenseman's Boyfriend Caught in Kiss Cam Scandal, followed by a picture of Brad andAdam making out at the hockey game, and another photo of Alder screaming in…is it rage or anguish? Humiliation?
Brian licks his lips. “According to my client, your boyfriend.” He points at me. “Is fucking his boyfriend.” He points his other hand at Alder, then smashes his fists together, mimicking an explosion. “The media is going nuts.”
Brian launches into a rapid-fire discussion about how Alder is being dragged through a gauntlet of speculation, analysis, and criticism, with the worst of it coming from fans who claim he cost the Fury the season on purpose after realizing what his partner was up to.
“This is cruel,” I shout, clapping a hand over my mouth.
Tucker sits up, drooling. “Thath what I shaid.”
Brian shakes his head. “This is pro sports, ladies and gents. We need to control the narrative. It doesn’t help that Alder refused to talk to the media after the game.” He taps Alder on the back. “You’re getting fined, by the way.”
“Fuck if I care,” Alder mutters. He meets my gaze and slumps against the wall, nearly falling off the rolling stool.
It seems so cruel to discuss his humiliation like this: the betrayal. I almost forget about my nightmare. I open my mouth to suggest… what? That there’s an explanation? A reasonable excuse?
Brian mutters something about taking calls and waltzes out of the room. I wish I could slip away from the visible pain both these men are experiencing for different reasons. I thought I could quietly slip into this job. I believed this was a financial windfall that would help me regain my footing in my relationship. Instead, it’s set me up for an extremely public analysis of all my deepest shame. My mother’s refrain echoes in my head. Nobody will ever love me, not when I look like this. Nobody will ever take care of me. I will need to be more nurturing, more available, more, more, more, while striving to be smaller and take up less space.
I hear another whining sound and realize it’s coming fromme. I shove a knuckle into my mouth. “I apologize,” I say to Tucker, who reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I choke out a laugh, realizing what it means for him to work through his terror to comfort me.
Alder’s blue gaze bores into me as I try to think. “I don’t know what to do,” I say to him. Not sure why I’m addressing him, but his face is in my line of vision. “I don’t know what to do.”
He swallows, the muscles of his throat working behind a scruffy blond beard. “You’re going to fix my brother’s mouth, and then we’re going to get revenge on those assholes.”
CHAPTER 7
