Page 93 of Rage

As Trinity counts us down, I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline.Leah may be younger, but I’ve got years of experience on my side.Plus, all those hours of helping Mason work on his bike lately have given me some serious upper body strength.

“Go!”Trinity shouts, and the match begins.

Leah’s strength is impressive, her bicep bulging as she immediately puts pressure on my hand.But I hold steady, gritting my teeth against the strain.Around us, the other women have gathered, cheering us on.

“Come on, Meadow!”Sarah calls out.“Show these youngsters how it’s done!”

“Don’t let her intimidate you, Leah!”Vanessa counters.“You’ve got this!”

For a long moment, we’re locked in a stalemate, neither of us giving an inch.Sweat beads on my forehead as I push with everything I’ve got.Leah’s face is a mask of concentration, her jaw clenched tight.

Just when I think my arm might give out, I see an opening.Leah’s grip has shifted ever so slightly, throwing her off-balance.With a surge of effort, I twist my wrist and slam her hand down onto the pool’s edge.

The group erupts in cheers and groans, depending on who they are rooting for.Leah sits back, shaking out her arm with a rueful grin.

“Damn, Doc,” she says, impressed.“Remind me never to arm wrestle you for real stakes.”

I laugh, feeling the pleasant burn in my muscles.“Hey, don’t sell yourself short.You nearly had me there for a minute.”

As we climb out of the pool, I’m immediately surrounded by the other women, all clamoring for their turn to challenge the champ.The night stretches on, filled with more contests, games, and plenty of laughter.

As we settle into our cozy puppy pile, surrounded by snacks and the warm glow of friendship, I can’t help but notice Dr.Ramirez hanging back.She’s perched on the edge of an armchair, her posture stiff and uncomfortable.The flickering light from the fireplace casts strange shadows across her face, accentuating the pallor of her skin.

Something’s off.Dr.Ramirez has always been reserved, but this goes beyond her usual quiet demeanor.Her eyes dart around the room, never settling on one spot for long.Her fingers twist anxiously in her lap, knuckles white with tension.

As I watch, she reaches for her water glass with a trembling hand.The ice cubes clink against the sides, drawing a few curious glances from the others.Dr.Ramirez notices the attention and forces a brittle smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you feeling all right?”I ask softly, not wanting to draw too much attention.

Dr.Ramirez startles at my question, nearly spilling her water.“I’m fine,” she says quickly—too quickly.“Just tired from the drive.”

But her words don’t match the tightness around her eyes, the way her gaze keeps flicking toward the doors.There’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead despite the cool evening air.

As Vanessa launches into a hilarious story about her latest misadventure at the clubhouse, drawing laughs from everyone else, I notice Dr.Ramirez’s jaw clench.Her eyes narrow, a flash of… is that anger?It’s gone so quickly I can’t be sure.

I try to catch her eye, to silently communicate that she can talk to me if something’s wrong.But Dr.Ramirez avoids my gaze, suddenly very interested in picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

The contrast between her rigid posture and everyone else’s relaxed sprawl is stark.While the rest of us are in various states of dishevelment—hair mussed from the pool, cheeks flushed with laughter and wine—Dr.Ramirez looks like she’s bracing for impact.

As the night wears on, her discomfort seems to grow.She barely touches the snacks, despite not having eaten all evening.When Tiffany offers her a refill, Dr.Ramirez flinches away as if burned.

“No, thank you,” she mutters, her voice tight.“I think I might turn in early, actually.”

Concern gnaws at my gut.This isn’t just social awkwardness or fatigue.Something is seriously wrong with Dr.Ramirez.The way her eyes keep darting to her bag, the tension radiating from every line of her body… it’s almost as if she’s afraid of something.Or someone.

She flashes a look over at Nurse Jenny but she turns away from Jenny before the nurse can look at her.

“How have you been after everything?”Elle asks Sarah, her face soft with compassion.

I watch her leave but I turn my attention back to Sarah, who has been so strong through all of this.It’s heartbreaking, the trauma she went through.

She smiles slightly.“I’m okay, and I will be okay.Peterson is a dead bastard and I take great pleasure in that,” she gloats, and we all nod in agreement.

Thank fuck he is dead.

Suddenly, Jenny jumps up from her seat, her movements exaggerated and clumsy.“Oh no!”she says, her voice pitched unnaturally high.“I’m so clumsy!”

In what seems like slow motion, her beer bottle tilts, amber liquid arcing through the air.Sarah, caught completely off guard, doesn’t have time to react before the beer splashes over her, drenching her from head to toe.

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