The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) by Bella Forrest (i have read the book a hundred times .txt) 📕

only one face in the world that could make me feel better—even if it was attached to a dry sense of humor and a surly disposition.

I stepped through the door on the top level and saw Dr. Tierney closing the door to one of the patient’s rooms. I raised my hand —the left one, not the right because it still hurt—and approached her. “Hey Doc. How is everyone?”

Dr. Tierney mustered up a smile. “Everyone’s going to be okay,” she said. Her eyes moved to where I was awkwardly cradling my shoulder. “How are you?”

I gave her a half shrug. “I didn’t want to bother you. I think it’s fine—it doesn’t feel dislocated.”

Her eyebrow arched and she looked impressed. “You’ve dislocated a limb before?” she inquired.

“Once, during a sparring match. My opponent slammed me against a wall to try to get me off her back. At one point… my body went left, shoulder right.”

She made a face at that, and then gestured for me to follow her into one of the empty side rooms. I sat down on the gurney as she pulled her handheld out of one pocket and a small medical scanning ring out of the other. She ran the scanning ring over my shoulder, and then looked at her handheld for the results.

“How’s Amber?” I asked, remembering that I had meant to inquire about her this morning.

Dr. Tierney nodded without taking her eyes off the digital image the scan had produced. “She’s much better today. Was able to keep down some food. I’ll have her walking in a few days.”

“And Viggo? How did his physical therapy go?”

Dr. Tierney frowned and lowered her handheld. “Violet,” she said, and then hesitated.

I widened my eyes. “What is it? Is the scan okay?”

She fidgeted back and forth a few seconds and then sighed in irritation. “Mr. Croft asked me to ask you if you would stay away from his physical therapy sessions.”

I suddenly felt very small and extremely confused.

“What?” I asked, needing her to repeat it.

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Before you jump off the deep end, you need to understand a few things, okay?”

“Like what?”

“Mr. Croft is… well… he’s feeling pretty poorly about himself right now. He’s embarrassed about all of his physical therapy, and he’s—wait, where are you going?”

I had jumped off the table and was halfway to the door when she asked the question. I grabbed the door knob and threw open the door. “I’m going to get it from the source!” I shouted as I walked the short distance to Viggo’s door. I threw it open and strode inside, determined to get to the bottom of this.

“What the hell, Viggo?” I exploded.

Viggo fixed his gaze on the blanket, his jaw twitching in irritation. I folded my arms over my chest and waited.

“Violet, please…” said Dr. Tierney as she arrived at the door.

Viggo shot her a glance so vicious, if he’d had any form of telepathic power, she would have died immediately.

“Oh no, don’t blame her!” I said. “You put her in the middle of this. So explain to me why you don’t want me to come see you while you’re here!”

Viggo cleared his throat at the sound of my shouting resounding off the walls. “Could you close the door, please?” he asked, his tone tight.

Gritting my teeth, I turned around and calmly closed the door in Dr. Tierney’s face. I took the moment to collect myself, taking hold of the hurt I was feeling and gently pulling it back, one deep breath at a time.

As I swung back around, I met his eyes. “I’m sorry I shouted,” I said after a moment. I’m just under a lot of stress right now.

Viggo nodded slowly, accepting my apology. I waited for him to say something, but he was stubbornly staring at his blanket again.

“Viggo, c’mon. What is going on?”

He hesitated. “I can’t have you here,” he said quietly. “Not during this.”

“But why?” I asked, exasperated. “I only want to help you. Support you.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he said, his voice rising as he met my gaze, his green eyes iced over.

I reeled back, confused. “Like what? Sick? Like you saw me in The Green?”

He shook his head. “That was different.”

“How? How was it different?”

“Well, for one thing, you could walk right after.”

I gaped at him for a moment. “I fail to understand how that connects.”

Viggo made a frustrated sound in his throat. “Violet, you just… you don’t understand.”

“But I’m here now, so make me understand. Please, Viggo, I would do anything you ask, but you’ve gotta give me a reason.”

“I just did,” he said.

“What… is this an ego thing? Dr. Tierney said that you were feeling sensitive to this but…”

“No, Violet, it is not an ego thing, okay?! So just back off and give me some space!”

I recoiled at the defensiveness in his voice.

I had never heard Viggo speak like that to anyone, let alone me. He had always been cool and collected, letting his logic win out over his emotions. But the Viggo in front of me wasn’t doing any of that.

It felt like I was looking at a stranger.

And it hurt. It hurt badly.

I breathed in, my eyes growing hot. And just like that, I was mad again.

“All right,” I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. “You want space? I’ll give you space. You can take the whole damn base.”

With that, I turned and stalked out.

23

ViggoOne week later

“Next leg, Mr. Croft,” ordered Dr. Tierney.

I slowly exhaled, lowering my left leg down and obediently raising my right, straining to keep it off the bed. Dr. Tierney had told me that if I could hold my legs up for forty-five seconds, she would let me try to walk today, and I was sick to death of lying down.

I had been progressing in leaps and bounds this past week, and was beginning to feel more optimistic about my recovery time, but it was still frustrating.