Page 119 of Bad Blood

I want to scream that everything is not okay, but I don’t want to panic Liam.

“Thank you, Lauren. We’ve got this.” Kline pats a hand on Liam’s lower leg and dismisses her with a brief smile.

“I’m at the counter if you need anything.” She sets a hand on my shoulder as she passes, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

“How’s your pain?” Kline asks as he shifts his eyes to Liam.

“Better after the infusions last week.”

“I thought it was about time we met. You’re aware of our group approach to treatment, I’m sure. I’m Dr. Matthews.”

Liam stiffens, and his eyes dart to me. Yes, he’s that Dr. Matthews. I try to convey what I mean without Kline noticing, positive that Liam is thinking about the malpractice.

Kline’s eyes sweep the room and land on the IV bag next to Liam’s chair. He stands, takes hold of it, and becomes engrossed in the label.

I’m convinced he’s trying to unnerve me, get under my skin. The idea of it pisses me off more than it should. I make eye contact with Liam and give him a slight shake of my head, begging him not to question what’s going on.

Kline crosses his arms over his chest, his movement catching both of our attention. “Looks like you’re in good hands. If you ever have questions—”

“I can contact Dr. Fields,” Liam interrupts.

“That’s right,” I say as I grab the curtain and pull it open, sweeping a hand toward the floor as a suggestion that Kline leaves. The shelf life of my patience has expired.

Kline pushes the rolling chair back under the counter with his foot and walks past me. “It was nice meeting you.”

“I’ll be back before your treatment’s over,” I reassure Liam as I follow Kline.

He leans his head back on the chair, closing his eyes.

I pull the curtain closed behind me and find Kline with his arms crossed over his chest, nostrils flaring.

“What was that?” I whisper-hiss, pointing at Liam’s curtain.

“Don’t you ever walk away from me again,” he says through a clenched jaw, his words clipped.

My eyes scan the floor, but everyone seems to be minding their own business.

“You’ve never checked on my patients before.”

“And I regret that every day. Need I remind you why you’re on probation?”

“That was uncalled for.” I clench my hands. “Unprofessional. Like you said, he’s in good hands.”

He turns on his heel and walks away, mumbling, “Until he’s not.”

33

Take the Blame

Dax

Monday, June 5 th

11:46 a.m.

“I was thinking . . .” Liam doesn’t give me a chance to pull the keys from the lock before he starts talking. “You know what you were saying earlier?”

My muscles tighten with anticipation. I try to remember as much of our phone call on my drive back as possible, but he’s being evasive and could be questioning any number of topics we discussed.

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