Keep Me In | DR3 | BOOK 1

66 - Downward Trajectory

"Nothing happened between Lan and I, Cars. Not that day at the motorhome. Nothing happened that night he slept over in my room. Lando is like a brother to me...."

"You guys have got the wrong driver."

"Daniel," I read his name on Carsons lips.

--

I very well could have walked to Leanne's office. It would have taken me 20 minutes at the most.

Fresh air probably would have done me some good, for my body and my mind. Plus I haven't worked out in at least a week - since Spain. I had to adjust my routine from what I had grown used to with him. I'd have to get creative, find ways to work out that weren't runs through the neighborhood, find a local gym to sign up for that didn't have mirrors plastered all over the walls and mantras about how fitness was the be-all and end-all. Maybe I could try a class, group fitness, change things up a little. I'd always wanted to try Lagree.

But if I wanted to head straight to work after my chiropractic appointment, I decided it would make the most sense to drive. Plus, I stood in my hallway picking at the beds of my nails, scrutinizing myself and why I didn't just say no for... far too long now. If I walked, I'd arrive at her office by Kensington Park late, and Leanne would tell Dad that she knew I didn't want to be there after all.

There was a parking garage close to the building I could safely leave my car in, without circling the block a near 500 times, prolonging the part of my day - no, week - that I was the least excited for. By a landslide.

I made my way around the block to a row of shops, looking for the medical building I knew Leannes office was in. There was an iron sign out front detailing who held their practice in each suite. Three different offices - one per floor in the tight, old London style red-bricked building.

The silvery haired receptionist peeked up from behind the desk as I opened the door, her rouged cheeks lifting into a kind smile as her fingers settled over the keyboard they had been just clacking against.

"Good morning, miss," she adjusted her glasses. "What can we help you with?"

"I'm- uh," I reached behind me, shutting the door as I slowly walked toward her desk. Leannes name was the only one on the frosted glass door, and I don't remember her ever saying she shared her office with other doctors, so it was safe to assume she was the only one I could possibly be here to see.

"I'm a new patient. I've got a consult this morning, with Dr. Cortes," I hesitated, unused to addressing her by her professional name. Surely I could have said Leanne, the older woman probably wouldn't have batted an eye. However, it didn't feel right, given the setting.

"Your last name?"

"Octo-"

"Alexa!" Leanne popped her head out from one of the rooms down the hallway. The wheels on her office chair scuttled against the treated laminate as she momentarily dipped out of sight before reappearing in full form. Her dark hair was pinned up neatly and professionally, at war with the bright white coat she had on over her light pink button-up, tucked perfectly into her grey linen joggers, her pointed kitten heels clicking louder and louder, until she was standing directly in front of me.

"How are we this morning?" Her light perfume enveloped me as soon as she reached me, the light misting of a warmed vanilla mixed with the scent of her morning coffee almost calming my nerves. Almost distracting me from the fact that I wasn't returning the hug.