I got up to follow him but saw Miles silently shake his head a definitive no.  I needed to know if what I saw was just another one of my hallucinations, but I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.  I sighed, certain he’d pull a Houdini by the time I got to the house.

The driver apologized one last time before limping out of the office.

The doctor smiled warmly as he pulled out his pen light to check my eyes.  “So, you’re the other half I take it.” His strong Spanish accent immediately captured my attention.

“That’s me,” I replied sheepishly.

“I’m Doctor Delgado,” he said, gently feeling around my head and face. He caught every flinch.

By the time we got to the port, Miles had already managed to stop the bleeding from my cut lip.

“Does it still hurt?” He asked.

I lowered my head knowing I was about to lie. “Not bad.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion at Miles. “You’re a lucky girl, it doesn’t look bad enough for stitches,” he said.

Miles didn’t react to the harsh look and continued watching the doctor as he examined my arms, back and legs for other injuries.

“A runner I see,” the doctor said.

I raised an incredulous brow-curious as to how he came to that conclusion by merely brushing his hands over my limbs and spine.

“Your feet gave you away.  Only runners have that many calluses and healing blisters.”

I laughed and nodded in agreement.  He finished cleaning up my cut and gently patted it dry.

“Your son did a self-less thing today, I won’t forget that,” Miles commended.

The doctor paused for a second.  “He would have done the same for anyone,” he replied, unaffected by the compliment.

I looked questioningly at Miles.  It didn’t sound like he and the doctor were on very good terms.

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