“I have. We’re coordinating my move right now.”
She nods and types. “So you’re feeling decent about it? Have you seen Dr. Winters since receiving it?”
“I haven’t seen her, no,” I murmur. Her appointment is tomorrow, wedged right before the movers are supposed to show up to the house. It felt right to schedule my monthly psychiatry appointment only an hour or two before everything about my life physically changes. “I’m… feeling hopeful.”
She looks up, an eyebrow raised.
My laugh is dry. “Yeah, I know. That’s not a word we’ve gotten to use much the last year.”
“It’s not,” she agrees. “But I’m thinking it’ll be one we use now.”
She turns her laptop to me. My most recent bloodwork is on the screen. I lean forward, examining the numbers. It’s the lowest they’ve been in at least a year. Not quite where most who have OBS want their numbers to stabilize, but significantly better than I’ve managed in a long time.
“Wow,” I mutter. And then my stomach drops.
Damn it. That means she’s going to make me stay on the awful medication.
She laughs. “That was just about my exact response. How are you handling the medication addition?”
I can’t help but grimace. Her gaze sharpens, and she pulls the laptop back to her, serious again in a heartbeat. She talks me through the last two weeks, from the dizzy spells to the near constant nausea to the body aches and how they’ve decreased but not gone away entirely. Her frown deepens with each answer I give.
“Damn,” she whispers. “It might be the dosing, but I don’t want to reduce it yet since your numbers are better. Or it could be your bond suppressor. Let me pull up my reference list really quick and see if there’s a similar option that won’t impact quite so much.”
Well, I suppose that’s a good way to bring up Marcus’s request.
“I actually, uh, had a question about my suppressors,” I admit. My voice cracks just a bit, and I swallow the sudden lump filling my mouth and closing my throat.
Her eyes flash back up to me, surprise lighting them. “You do?”
“Y-yeah.” Damn, are my hands shaking? I press them harder into the chair. “I was curious if I could come off of them. Or at least the bond suppressor.”
Her wide eyes are almost comical. Her hands freeze over the keyboard.
“You want to come completely off of the bond suppression?” she asks. Her voice is politely incredulous rather than outright shocked.
“I do.”
One thin eyebrow lifts gracefully in silent question.
I suck in a breath and just say it. “The match from the Council included the Alpha.”
This time her shock is a palpable force in the room. Silence extends between us, veering into uncomfortable.
“I see,” she finally says. “And have you interacted since the gala?”
“They were here over the weekend,” I admit.
Her gaze flicks back to her laptop. “Well, that could explain your improvement beyond the new medication.”
Her lips purse. I can practically hear the gears turning in her mind as she mulls over my latest bloodwork in light of Marcus being around me again. My stomach clenches.
“All right,” she says finally. “When do you move? Where is the pack?”
“Manhattan.” My throat is so freaking dry right now. I swallow again. “I fly out there Friday.”
Her shoulders relax just a fraction.
“New York City is good,” she murmurs. She clicks something, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’ll send an email to Dr. Faulks and work on permanently coordinating your care.”
