The cold autumn breeze swept around them as Sam and Hank walked side by side, heading toward his sister’s building. Every step jarred Sam’s head, but she refused to let it slow her down. Mozz, seemingly unaware of the drama he had just caused, trotted ahead with renewed vigor, chasing every leaf that fluttered too close.
“So, do you live near the park?” Hank asked, breaking the silence as they crossed the street. His voice was calm, maybe even a little curious.
Sam squinted against the morning light and shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the pounding in her skull. “Sort of. I’m a few blocks away. I come to the park a lot, with Mozz… for inspiration.”
“Inspiration?” He glanced over at her. “What do you do?”
She hesitated, unsure how much she wanted to share with a man she barely knew—especially this man. Central Park’s perpetual playboy still felt like an enigma to her, and she wasn’t in the mood to open up.
“I’m a writer,” she finally muttered, her tone nonchalant, hoping he wouldn’t press further.
“Really? What do you write?”
“Mostly blog stuff,” she said quickly, keeping her answer vague.
Hank didn’t press her, but she could feel him watching her out of the corner of his eye. The Avimor loomed ahead, a stately building with ivy creeping up its brick walls, its polished facade at odds with her current disheveled state.
“Here we are,” Hank said, leading her up the steps toward the entrance. He held the door open, and Sam entered, trying not to wince as the bright lighting of the lobby sent a new wave of pain through her head.
Hank glanced down at his phone, tapping out a quick message. “My sister should be down in a minute.”
Sam nodded absently, her attention caught by the artful arrangement of fall flowers on a nearby table. She tried to focus on anything but the pounding in her head. She caught a glimpse of herself in the golden mirrored surface of the elevator doors. Dried blood wound down her temple and leaves still stuck to her jacket. This was turning into quite the day.
“Is this where you bring all the girls?” Sam tried to fill the silence with humor. She regretted it immediately. “Idiot,” she thought. She really must have hit her head hard.
Hank coughed out a laugh. “To my sister’s apartment? No, I can’t say that I do.”
Before she could respond, the elevator dinged, and a petite woman stepped out. She was dressed in slacks and a tucked in blouse, her dark hair pulled into a neat bun, and she looked every bit the capable professional Sam imagined.
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“Hey, Hank,” the woman greeted her brother warmly, before turning to Sam with a concerned smile. “And you must be the one who collided with my brother’s hard head. I’m Lilah.”
Sam forced a small smile, feeling awkward under the weight of both siblings’ attention. “I’m Sam. Sorry about this. Your brother’s probably exaggerating.”
Lilah’s gaze softened as she motioned Sam toward a chair in the lobby’s corner. “Let’s take a look. I just want to make sure you don’t need to be seen in the hospital.”
Sam obliged, feeling the soft thud of her heart in her chest as Lilah examined the cut above her eyebrow. Hank stood nearby, keeping quiet, allowing his sister to assess Sam’s injury, though she felt his presence like a weight she couldn’t shake.
Lilah’s touch was gentle but firm as she dabbed at the cut with a disinfectant wipe. “The cut’s not too deep, but you’ll want to keep an eye on any dizziness or nausea.” Lilah applied a bandage from the small first aid kit she’d brought with her. Her hands were warm on Sam’s chilled skin and the simple contact sent a shock wave through her body. Sam flinched at the sensation.
“Sorry, I’m sure you’re tender.” Lilah said, lightening her already delicate touch. “You likely have a mild concussion and will have a horrendous headache for a day or two. If it gets worse, go to the hospital, okay?”
Sam nodded, her eyes flicking up to meet Hank’s briefly before she quickly looked away. “Thanks. I appreciate this.”
Lilah smiled, stepping back and giving her brother a knowing glance. “You’re all set, get plenty of rest and if anything changes, feel free to give me a call.”
“I don’t have your number,” Sam pointed out, feeling slightly off-balance from more than just the injury.
“Hank can pass it along.” Lilah shot her brother a playful smirk, then gave Sam a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Take it easy, okay?”
As Lilah disappeared back into the elevator, Sam stood up gingerly, trying to regain her composure. “Did your sister just play wingwoman?” she asked, a smirk spreading across her lips.
Hank chuckled, uncrossing his arms to help steady her. “Did I mention she’s my favorite sister?”
Sam gave him a sideways glance, unsure of what to make of the sudden shift in his demeanor. The first signs of his usual flirtatious behavior returning.
“So, uh, thanks for the help,” she said, adjusting Mozz’s leash and moving toward the door. She needed to put some distance between herself and this bizarre morning.
“Let me walk you home,” Hank offered, his tone casual but persistent.
“No need. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, what’s your number?” he said, matching her pace as they exited the building. “I’ll send you my sister’s contact card.”
Sam sighed, and rattled off her number without waiting to see if he was ready. When she reached the last step of the Avimor entrance she turned to face him.
He finished adding her number to his phone and quickly pocketed it. “Same time tomorrow?” Hank asked suddenly, breaking the silence with a hint of amusement in his voice.
Sam blinked at him, her mind stumbling over the question. “What?”
“The park tomorrow? Same time?” A playful grin lit up his face.
Sam frowned, feeling the familiar pull of the walls she had carefully built over the years. Letting him in—even just as a park acquaintance—felt risky. And yet, there was something about him. Something unexpected.
“Goodbye Hank,” she replied, with a small laugh, as she twisted on her heel and set off for her own apartment.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Charming,” she said under her breath without looking back.