It's Definitely Not You - Abby Brooks Page 0,18

be surprised to learn he’d date Ramsey in a heartbeat, despite the picture of his wife and kids on his homescreen.

Doctor Middleton tapped the end of my nose.

I slow-blinked. Since when did co-workers boop each other in casual conversation?

“One of these days, Monroe. You’ll take me up on my offer and this guy and his timer will thank me for the fabulous advice I give you.”

I bristled, then smoothed my hackles as Ramsey gathered his laptop and swept into exam room two with a bright “Hello!” Exhaustion had me imagining condescension where it didn’t exist.

The rest of the day slogged by in a series of patients who genuinely needed my attention. A little boy with autism who struggled to adapt to changes in school. A toddler with a cough that broke his mother’s heart. A teenager with troubling symptoms of cardiovascular issues. These children, their parents, they deserved my sympathy. My time. They deserved to have me sit in there with them until they had the tools to move forward with knowledge instead of fear.

With each patient, the frown lines in Emmanuel’s face deepened until I feared his lips would disappear altogether. I fought the urge to gift him with Joe’s favorite gesture. The man was just doing his job, even if he did approach ruining my day with too much glee. I made it out of the office with a friendly wave from Ramsey and a sweet drawing from my last patient clutched in my hand. Three beaming stick figures with scribbled hair and too many fingers held hands under a yellow circle sun. “Thank you 4 macking me fell beter” scrawled in crayon across the top. It would go on my fridge and I would smile every time I saw it.

I drove home without music—Imagine! Too tired for Collin West!—and parked in front of my apartment, unable to process the scene in front of me. Jake and Paul/ette/ine/yana’s door hung open. Water streamed off their steps. My door was open, too. As was the one that belonged to my favorite quiet neighbor. Maintenance workers swarmed the area, glancing at me with a mixture of irritation and pity as I cautiously entered my home. The carpet squelched under my feet and something skittered up the wall. I squeaked, catching the attention of the apartment manager who stood in the middle of my living room with her hands covering her face.

“Doctor Monroe!” She rocketed my way, shooing me toward the door, as she glanced at another darting wall-skitterer. “It’s better if we talk outside,” she said with a shiver.

I listened in disbelief as she outlined the problem. My oh-so-fun neighbors had installed an inflatable hot tub in their living room and filled it using a hose attached to their kitchen sink. While they were at work, something had pierced the tub…presumably the cat they weren’t supposed to have, or quite possibly Fate herself—as retribution for being so stupid.

All two hundred and ten gallons of water had flooded their apartment.

And mine.

And Captain Quiet beside me, because…wouldn’t you know, the Chaos Twins left the water running on their way out the door

“So…now what?”

“Well. Unfortunately, Mr. Barnhart—” she jerked her thumb toward my other neighbor with a shudder “—had a bit of a bug problem. The water spurred them to find dryer ground, so now you do, too.”

I rubbed my forehead. “So I live in a wet, bug-infested apartment?”

“I wouldn’t live in there if I were you.” Her wide eyes and panicked expression had me wondering about the extent of the damage.

“How long do you expect this to be a problem?”

“Only for the next few days.” She grinned hopefully. Turned out, she was as good a liar as I was.

They planned to call an exterminator to deal with the bugs and a contractor to replace anything with water damage. The ruined furniture would be covered by my renter’s insurance. “But, you’ll probably want to find somewhere else to stay for a few weeks.”

Still half-convinced I’d fallen asleep at the office, I nodded. “I thought you said a few days.”

She grimaced. “Until everything’s fixed, which could maybe take a month. Or two. If everything goes well.”

I nodded again. Then glanced up as Mr. Barnhart lumbered out of his apartment. No wonder the woman had shivered at the thought of him. And double no wonder he had a bug problem. I would never look at a too-quiet neighbor the same.

Squishing through my apartment, I packed several bags of clothes, toiletries, and other necessities, then perched