Rain Check?

~69~

Dempsey POV

  "Tis the season," the doctor tells me flatly while passing over a written prescription.

  Not that he was wrong. Kids at the school have been dropping like flies thanks to strep throat.

"Get plenty of rest and you should be fine to return to work Monday." He holds the door open for me, ushering me out quickly to move on to the next patient.

One large co-pay later and I'm walking through the door back into the waiting room. My steps falter, noticing that Boston Sox cap pulled down low with his mouth hanging open. My brain tells me go ahead and just walk by, out the door and off to a pharmacy. But instead I stop in front of him, nudging his large foot with my own Converse clad one.

Scooting back in his seat he moves the cap back up, blinking rapidly to clear away the sleep. "Go home, Chris. I'm fine."

"Good, good." But he still doesn't make a move to leave. He notices me continuing to stare down at him. "Oh, I haven't been seen yet."

Guilt rushes me for taking his spot. He was here before me, for who knows how long, and yet he gifted me his place in line. Glancing between the exit and the still empty seat next to him I know exactly what I'm about to do even though my brain cusses me out loudly for it.

"You don't have to do that," he tells me as I fall back into the navy blue chair next to him. I give him a shrug of nonchalance while my mind continues to yell obscenities, although at this point I'm not sure if they're at me or my ex boyfriend. "Positive?"

I give a nod, hoping that he's talking about the strep test and not whether I'm positive about joining him now.

"Were they able to just tell by looking at your throat or did they have to swab?" he asks, both curiosity and fear in his voice.

I use my finger to motion a swab in front of my mouth, cutting down on the amount of speaking. He drops his head quickly, quietly whimpering.

"I'm sorry," I start, "is big boy Cap afraid of a throat swab?"

"I don't know what the hell Cap is afraid of, but I hate getting my throat swabbed. I always gag and I'm really not in the mood to vomit today."

I try to hide away my smile, but when a giggle passes my lips I know it's all a lost cause. "Do you need someone to hold your hand?" I joke, crossing my arms against my chest.

His head flips to mine, eyes finding my own immediately. "Would you?"

My eyes widen in surprise, my mouth opening for an answer, shocked that he would ask.

"Mr. Evans?" the nurse from earlier calls out from the doorway. Chris stands, looking back at me, a plea written across his face.

My eyes roll as I snatch up my purse and stand. Shaking my head I reach my hand out in front of me, signaling him to go. He gives me his boyish grin, tucks his hands in his pockets and follows the nurse leaving me to trail behind them both.

"Big, lying, cheating, baby," I mutter under my breath.

  I take a seat in the chair across from the bed as Chris sits down. He looks oddly large compared to the rest of the room, even the nurse who is shorter than myself at maybe only a little over five feet.

"What brings you here today, Mr. Evans?" she asks, beginning to tap away at the computer on the countertop.

"Strep has been going around with my niece and nephews. Pretty sure it's found me too," he answers while removing his hat completely. He looks like he's about to toss it to me until I give him a look that reminds him we're not together. Reluctantly he sits it down next to him instead.