Seeing Kayla's attention turn to the door and seeing the anxious look on her face, Tripp frowned.

"Kayla, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I… it's nothing, really."

Arching a brow, Tripp looked at her skeptically.

"I just thought your dad would be back by now," Kayla admitted, but after hearing the words, she wanted to kick herself for saying them, knowing her stepson already had enough reasons to worry.

"He's probably just out on a walk, though, getting some air. I mean, he knows I'm in good hands, right?"

"You're still worried about him, though," Tripp said knowingly, getting a nod.

"It's not an easy habit to break."

"I figured," he said. "And leave it to you to be worried about everyone else when you're-"

Trailing off, unwilling to finish that sentence, he shrugged and got to his feet.

"Like you said, he's probably getting some air after talking to Joe and Stephanie. Speaking of talking, though,"

Wanting to avoid awkward silence and genuinely curious about it, Tripp bent down and picked up the storage bin, setting it on the coffee table.

"Mind telling me about this?" he asked as Kayla smiled, then shifted so she was closer to the books.

"If it's some new idea of Dad's to keep intruders out, it's a good one. I almost broke my foot on it when I walked in here."

Apologizing for it being in the way, Kayla shook her head.

"I asked him to get it out of the closet the other night. It's got some of my old notes and publications from when I was in med school and completing my residency."

"You think there's something here that could help?" Tripp asked, getting a shrug.

"Steve and I started going through it, but I think it might just be a dead end. The textbooks are completely outdated, and I know some of those notes are from Basic Human Physiology and Biochem."

"Wow. Talk about a throwback," Tripp laughed.

"Yeah, think I'm too much of a packrat for my own good."

"Well, can I take a look? I don't think there'll be much in the textbooks, but the notes-"

"Are also going to be pretty dated."

"So, JAMA editions first, then?"

Flipping to a bookmarked page, Tripp started skimming the infectious disease article.

"Steve started going over that last night. He was reading it out loud, and I was trying to translate, but we barely got through the first chapter before I fell asleep," Kayla admitted as Tripp arched a brow.

"Nothing against you guys, but maybe pulling all-nighters right now isn't the best idea?"

"Hey, at least ours wasn't accompanied by a six-pack of Red Bull," Kayla retorted. "Like the one I had to pry from your shaking, over-caffeinated hands the night before your boards," she recalled as Tripp rolled his eyes.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"You had three and were about to down a fourth that probably would've thrown you into AFIB. And with how fast you were talking, I was already about to admit you for a manic episode."

"You know I've done weirder and worse to get out of taking a test," he smirked as Kayla rolled her eyes.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Putting the journal aside, reaching for one of the notebooks, Tripp shook his head.

"Let me guess, outdated and so scribbly they're illegible."

"No, they're legible," Tripp said. "Too legible for a med student, though."

"Your father said the same thing, and I'm sorry, you're both wrong," Kayla insisted. Getting to her feet, she started poking through the storage bin.

"I'll prove it. The anatomy notes I know are total chicken scratch-"

Trailing off, wincing, Kayla gripped the side of the bin with one hand while the other went to the side of her head.

"Kayla. What-"

"Head rush," she said through clenched teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as Tripp moved to hold her upright.

"Pain, dizziness?"

"Both."

"Scale of 1 to-"

"7," she cried.

"Shh, okay. It's okay, it's gonna be okay," Tripp said, hoping he'd believe it if he said it enough.