“Daddy,” Amber whimpers.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I whisper as I rub my daughter’s back with my hand. “Dr. Quinn will tell us what to do next.”
This is one of those moments where I wonder if her mother would have done things better than me. Would she have known what was happening before I did? Would she have had tips and tricks to help with Amber’s aches and pains?
I lean back against the chair, rocking my nine-year-old daughter, wondering where in the world the time went.
When did she grow up? How have we been without her mother for so long?
“You have to lay still so Dr. Quinn can examine you,” Walker says.
“It’s okay, it’s not going to hurt,” Knox says.
My attention pulls to the patient room where the door is cracked open. Another waft of that amazing cinnamon roll smell barrels toward me, and the pull tugs me off my feet.
I shift Amber in my arms, and while her whimper usually stops me in my tracks, the scent wafting through that door is overpowering. I need more of it.
Hot cinnamon rolls straight out of the oven, with a twinge of icing sweetness that makes my mouth water.
Oh, no.
I know what this is.
“How long have you been on heat suppressants?” I hear Dr. Quinn ask.
“Daddy?” Amber whimpers softly.
“Shh,” I say, rubbing my hand up and down her back. “I’ve got you, princess.”
“Did you say, ‘three years’?” Knox asks.
“The orgasm I gave her didn’t work, Doc,” Walker says, and everything inside of me ignites into flames. “It should have settled her preheat so that she could at least get home safely from the festival. But it only made her worse.”
Worse?
How could an orgasm during preheat make an Omega worse?
“Not worse,” the woman inside of the patient room groans out. “Just need my nest.”
“Did you miss taking one of your suppressants?” Dr. Quinn asks.
“No,” the woman whimpers.
“Who is your prescribing doctor?”
There’s silence on the other end of that question, and I don’t like that.
“Lia,” Walker says, “who prescribes your suppressants?”
“They aren’t prescription,” she says.
I hear Knox groan before Dr. Quinn pipes up. “All right, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to prescribe you another suppressant. Don’t take one today, but tomorrow?—”
Amber’s foot twitches, kicking against the cracked door, and it slowly eases open. All eyes turn to face us, and I hold my breath.
Walker’s staring at me with that no-nonsense look of his that makes everyone step out of the way. Knox is looking at me with a mound of worry behind his eyes. Dr. Quinn is staring over the top edge of his glasses at me, as if he’s watching some sort of soap opera unfold, of which he completely disapproves.
Amber whines again in my arms.
