Page 21 of Rage

The use of my first name makes my skin crawl.I take a step back, bumping into the lockers.The cold metal seeps through my scrubs.

“That won’t be necessary, Dr.Peterson,” I say, steel creeping into my tone.“Now, if you’ll excuse me?—”

He leans in, caging me against the lockers.“I don’t think you understand, Meadow,” he murmurs, voice low and threatening.“When I ask for your time, it’s not a request.”

Fear claws at my throat, threatening to choke me.I open my mouth to respond?—

“Is there a problem here?”Konrad’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife.

Relief floods through me, my shoulders sagging slightly.I turn to see Konrad’s imposing figure, his eyes narrowed at Dr.Peterson.

Peterson’s demeanor shifts instantly.The slimy smile vanishes, replaced by a mask of professionalism.“Not at all, Dr.Konrad,” he says, his voice suddenly crisp.“Just having a friendly chat with our talented Dr.Beckham here.”

Bullshit.My skin crawls at his fake pleasantries.

Konrad’s gaze flicks between us, assessing.“I see,” he says, his tone neutral but laced with skepticism.“Dr.Beckham, I believe your first patient is ready.Shall we?”

“Of course,” I say, grateful for the escape.I step around Peterson, my heart pounding.As I pass Konrad, he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

Peterson’s eyes follow us as we walk away.I can feel them boring into my back, setting my nerves on edge.

“You okay?”Konrad murmurs once we’re out of earshot.

I nod, not trusting my voice.My hands tremble slightly as I reach for my patient’s chart.

Konrad’s brow furrows.“Has he been bothering you often?”

I hesitate, weighing my words.“It’s… nothing I can’t handle,” I say finally, but the tremor in my voice betrays me.

Konrad’s jaw tightens.“Meadow,” he says, his voice low and serious.“If he’s making you uncomfortable, we need to address it.This isn’t something you should have to ‘handle’ alone.”

I swallow hard, fighting back the sudden sting of tears.The weight of Konrad’s concern, the lingering unease from Peterson’s advances, it all threatens to overwhelm me.

“I…” I start, but the words catch in my throat.

A nurse appears at the end of the hall, calling my name.“Dr.Beckham?Your patient is ready.”

I nod, thankful for the interruption.“We’ll talk later,” I tell Konrad, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

As I walk toward my patient’s room, I can feel Konrad’s worried gaze following me.The encounter with Peterson replays in my mind, each slimy word making my skin crawl anew.

I take a shaky breath, steeling myself.I have patients who need me.I can’t let Peterson’s creepy behavior throw me off my game.

But as I reach for the door handle, I can’t shake the feeling.

I take a labored breath, pushing thoughts of Dr.Peterson aside as I enter my patient’s room.Mrs.Johnson, a first-time mother in her early thirties, greets me with a nervous smile.

“Good morning, Mrs.Johnson,” I say, my professional mask sliding into place.“How are you feeling today?”

As I go through her pre-op checklist, I feel myself relaxing.This is what I’m meant to do.Helping women bring new life into the world, guiding them through one of the most significant moments of their lives.

The morning passes in a blur of surgeries and checkups.I throw myself into my work, thankful for the distraction.But every time I step into the hallway, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder, half expecting to see Dr.Peterson’s leering face.

By lunchtime, I’m exhausted.I collapse into a chair in the break room, rubbing my temples.The adrenaline from the morning is wearing off, leaving me drained.

My phone buzzes.A text from Mason.

Hope your day is going well, darlin’.Can’t stop thinking about you.

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