Page 20 of Viking Ink

Whoa. Where did that thought pop out from? Simon wasn’t mine—no matter what my sneaky subconscious wanted.

The next few patients came in and the morning slipped into early afternoon. I checked my watch and saw it was close to half twelve, with the last patient for the day with the Doc. I swung in my chair, humming. Not long now and Simon would be here to pick me up.

Hmm. Maybe when I got my first pay, I could shout Simon lunch, or do something nice for him. I was so busy caught up in thoughts of what I could do or buy for Simon in thanks that I didn’t hear the door to the surgery open.

A gruff clearing of a throat had me spinning in my chair, smile in place. I was ready to explain that Doc would not be taking any walk-ins today.

I froze.

The person in front of me was dressed in the familiar blues and white of a policeman, and the uniform sent my thoughts tumbling in panic. The officer looked me up and down with a frown. “Who are you?” he barked rudely.

My pulse skyrocketed. The tone, the expected compliance to questions asked, made me feel nauseous. Breathing shallowly, I tried to form a smile. “I’m Doctor Cullen’s new receptionist.”

“I can see that. What’s your name?” he barked again.

My skin began to feel tight, and I was afraid I was going to be sick on the desk I had just so painstakingly organized. “R-Rhys, sir.” I stammered out. I pushed my chair back, hands shaking, and I was getting ready to bolt when Doc Cullen walked out.

With one look at me his formidable brows rose up, and he turned to glare at the policeman. “Donald Mathis, you had better have a good excuse for terrorising my receptionist. What’s the meaning of this?” He positioned himself in front of my desk, blocking the officer’s view of me.

“I need to see you, I’ve hurt my back again,” Mr Angry Cop growled.

I wanted to run as fast as I could, but he was between me and the door. My breathing was getting faster. Shit. Not now. I tried to count and slow my breaths, like the information I’d read said I should, but it wasn’t helping. My head spun, and I could barely hear Doc talk.

“Donald, I need you to come back in an hour. Rhys is my immediate concern right now.” Doc’s voice was low and calm. I kept trying to focus on my breathing but I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Shit, Doc, I didn’t mean to upset the lad.” Donald sounded sincere but I still didn’t open my eyes. The uniform was triggering so many unpleasant memories. I heard the surgery door open and close and felt the weight of Docs hand on my shoulder.

“Rhys, I need you to slow your breathing down. You’re hyperventilating, lad. Come on, count back from twenty with me.”

Doc slowly counted, and I repeated the numbers in a shaking voice.

“Hold still for a minute, Rhys. I’m just going to lock the surgery door. Keep counting, that’s it, lad. You’re doing well.”

Doc was back within seconds kneeling in front of me, his face a picture of concern. I felt a surge of shame over my reaction, and tears started to spill. I’d gone and ruined it. How was he going to want me to work here now, when I’d freaked out over one cranky policeman?

“I’m sorry,” I managed to whisper. “I understand if you don’t want me to come back tomorrow.”

Doc’s eyebrows shot up, and if I wasn’t so close to a meltdown I would have laughed at the sight. “Of course I want you back. I’m not going to give you the boot because of a panic attack, but I need you to answer one question. I don’t need specifics, just a yes or no.”

I nodded shakily, starting to feel calmer. Doc’s gruff no-nonsense ways were weirdly comforting, and I was a little in awe of how he’d dealt with Donald.

“Was it how he spoke to you, or the uniform?”

“The uniform,” I whispered.

Doc made a soft humming sound. “And I’ll bet the way he spoke to you didn’t help.”

I shook my head and hugged myself. I really wished I had Mr Ted in my hands right now. Instead, I wrapped my arms around my middle.

Doc didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he reached out and hugged me. I whimpered a little bit before I returned the hug. When he released me from the embrace, he gave me a stern look. “No more talk of not working here, right? And I can promise you Donald will apologise or I’ll take it up with Sergeant Duff when he comes into the clinic next. I think you’ve seen him on his beat around the square?”

I nodded. I had. He was the smiling bobby, always flipping a coin into my case and waving hello. At first, I had been frightened when he’d come past, but I’d soon seen how he was with other people in town, and the market stall holders. I had managed to curb my innate fear of the uniform around him, and he’d never given me cause to be afraid, but the other one? Nope. I was going to do everything in my power to keep away from him.

“Okay, lad, let’s move this into the kitchen. We both need a cuppa, and my poor old knees can’t take kneeling down like this.” Doc winced as he stood.

“You’re not that old,” I managed to say as I switched the phones to the answering service. Standing, I still felt out of breath, but my heart rate was calmer. It still felt like rabbits were dancing in my chest, but it was better than feeling like I was about to pass out.

Doc was already at the kettle when I made my way into the small kitchenette. I slumped into a seat, exhausted by both the panic attack and my first day of work.

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