“Uh… yep.”Lies! “All above board over here.”
“I hope so. I’ll take care of things on my end, on the proviso that you visit and allow me an in-person examination. Soon.”
“Deal—”
“And before you go…”
I slam my lips closed, trapping my pained groan at the bottom of my throat.
I wassoclose to being done. So near freedom.
I move away from the counter and head to my front door, pushing onto my toes and peeking through the peephole into the hall. My breath catches when I find the man on the other side… not my guard from before. But a new face. A familiar face.
Mr. Harrison stands with a straight back and hard stare, his eyes vigilantly scanning from one end of the hall to the other, down the stairs, then back up again on an unrelenting loop.
Why is he here? Why did they change? Why is he so angry?
“Minka?”
“Yeah?” The single word scratches along my dry throat. “What’s up?”
“I’m worried. You’ve never, in all the time I’ve known you, been so disorganized with your medication schedule. Losing your scripts, not having access to your packs,claimingto have no other hematologist, but you’ve not been using me either… something is amiss.”
Sighing, I drop back to flat feet and spin, leaning against the door instead. “Nothing is wrong. I’m in a moment of transition, I guess, and my meds became victim to the chaos. Once I fill my new script in the morning, everything will be back on track.”
Everything? Not even close.
“I’ve had a busy day at work, though, so I’m headed for a shower and bed. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.”
“Hopefully,” she encourages. “Reach out if there’s anything else I can do for you. Other than that, I’ll have your script sent over, and I expect to see your name in my schedule soon.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.” I don’t give her a chance to respond. Or ask questions. Or worse, ask if I’m okay. I pull the phonefrom my ear and end our call with a stab of my thumb, but before I lock the screen and put it away, a banner drops from the top of my screen.
Soph:
Hey. You wanna talk about it? I’ve still got my mature-girl pants on.
Jay’s giving the girls a bath, so I have the next thirty minutes to hang.
Tears sizzle on the backs of my eyes, burning and itching until I’m tempted to tear my skin clear off my face. My nose runs, and when I realize it, my chin trembles.
Because talking about one’s feelings is not conducive to being a robot, dammit!
Me:
No thanks. And though I told you to stop monitoring my calls and texts, I figured you wouldn’t listen, which means you already know how things went between me and Archer.
I’m taking a cold shower and ignoring the world. If I’m lucky, I might drown.
Soph:
There are easier ways to go, Chief. And then there are the fun ways. One of them includes a full bottle of tequila, a scorpion in your shot glass, and some nasty, bitter goodbye texts as final punishment for the bastard who crushed your heart. Personally, if I’m gonna die, I’d prefer to take my enemies down with me.
But he’s not my enemy. Not really. He’s my victim, and he’s finished tolerating me.
Me:
I’ll skip your plan and stick with my own. Called my doctor; she’s sending over a script for new meds in the morning. I’m all set.
