Page 128 of Citius

At the physician’s computer, Reyhan paused while typing, his fingers curling and flexing a few times before returning to the keyboard. It was the only outward sign of his mounting frustration with Tyler. The kid wouldn’t listen to reason, so Reyhan had pulled me into this mess.

“We can’t treat you appropriately without more details,” I said, fixing Tyler with a pointed look. “Unless you like having a busted hand all the time?”

“You know I don’t, but—but it’s not a big deal. You guys are worrying too much.”

“Based on the state of your hair and your clothes,” I said in a measured tone, “either this happened during your morning workout, or you’ve been trying to soldier through since last night—which I hope isn’t the case. If the injury is more than a few hours old, it might not—”

“I have to play!” Tyler’s yell cut me off. His heel slammed against the table—as startling as a gunshot in the tight space of the exam room. Reyhan jumped in his seat, the wireless mouse clattering against the keyboard.

Tyler’s eyes blazed with real, disturbing anger. But it didn’t last. His breath hitched, shoulders quaking. A choked sob wracked his large frame as he curled in on himself, clutching his injured hand.

“Please—please tape me up,” he pleaded. “I can take it. You don’t understand. I’m a senior. I need to play—Ihaveto play. You can’t bench me, not again. No scout will ever notice me if I’m stuck on the sidelines. Please, I’m begging you.”

His panic was understandable. Most seniors feared the injured list like death. The stakes were even higher for someone like Tyler, who’d once been touted as a serious contender for the pro league.

But the way his emotions spiraled so violently… It wasn’t like him. There had to be something else going on.

I rolled a spare chair over and sat down, leaning forward until our eyes met. Resting my elbows on my knees, I softened my tone and leveled with him. “I know you want to be on the field for every game, but this goes beyond tape, Tyler. Your hand needs a splint. And you cannot play this weekend.”

“No,” Tyler whimpered, shaking his head as tears streamed down his blotchy, sweat-slicked face. “I can play—Ican!”

The crying and bargaining dragged on. Tyler stubbornly refused to be treated. We had no choice but to call in the big guns—Dr. McEwen.

An electric charge filled the room, the atmosphere almost crackling as our boss strode in. He took one look at the x-ray and barked out a brusque, unequivocal diagnosis. “Broken.”

Though the word wasn’t directed at us, Reyhan winced, and I discreetly rolled my chair a few inches away to avoid the brunt of Dr. McEwen’s dominance.

His following proclamation hit even harder. “You’re benched.”

Poor Tyler. Still leaking snot, he went white as a sheet, folded in on himself, and succumbed to proper sobs.

Trapped in a nightmare of his own making—where not even a Hail Mary could save him.

***

A fuzzy purple catnip hippo ricocheted off my right breast and landed on the screen of my tablet.

I glanced across the library nest at Cal, who was lounging with his elbow propped on the ledge, head resting in his hand. He’d finished replying to emails ages ago and had been trying to exhaust Kip with a wand toy ever since.

My cat gave a final halfhearted swat before flopping onto the cushions in defeat.

“What are you scowling at?” Cal asked, his tone equal parts curiosity and amusement. I must have made a face.

“Tyler Hartsen’s medical record,” I replied, setting the tablet aside with a sigh.

“Isn’t he Reyhan’s patient now?”

“Yes, which is partially why I’m so frustrated.” I dug my fingers intomy scalp, trying to massage away the band of tension at the base of my skull. “He broke his finger, so we had to bench him.”

“How’d that go over?”

“Tears and lots of begging. But there was a moment when he seemedoff. Like I was dealing with a completely different person.”

Cal’s expression darkened, his playful demeanor giving way to concern. “And so, you’re, what—digging through his PheroPass records, looking for a reason to justify his behavior?”

“That’s the problem.” My hands were steady as I picked up the tablet and opened a folder of screenshots, even though what I’d found had unnerved me, to say the least. “I didn’t go looking for it, but…”

Cal put down the wand toy and scooted over to sit beside me, his knees popping twice along the way. He took the tablet, his eyes narrowing as he zoomed in on Tyler’s readings.

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