Page 152 of Citius

“I thought I made it clear on Monday,” he said, taking a slow, judgmental sip of coffee. “You’re not well.”

“Tell that to my schedule,” I huffed as the elevator doors opened. I cut in front of him, not bothering to hold the door.

Owen followed at my heels. “Sick leave exists for a reason.”

“I know my limits,” I said, jabbing the garage button.

“You do?” he asked, arching an imperious brow. “Doubtful.”

I wanted to snap back, but I had no energy to spare. Even my ever-present anger was nothing but embers.

Running on fumes, I pushed through a brutal orthopedic trauma rotation, only to have every appointment at the sports medicine clinic run long. Which meant I missed my pain med top-up at noon and skipped lunch.

Not that I had anything to eat in the first place. I’d forgotten to grab one of Kelsey’s pre-packed lunches from the fridge on my way out the door—again. If Kelsey found out I’d missed lunch two days in a row, she might drown me in a vat of Oma’s split pea soup when she got back.Literally drown me.

At the appointed time, I dragged myself to Dr. Sethi’s office for a prolonged lecture on the importance of timely paperwork submission, which I accepted in respectful silence.

“The university guidelines are crystal clear. You should have submitted this at least two months ago,” she said, pointing to my heat leave request on her desk.

The blotter matched the rest of her decor, a dizzying bouquet of vibrant florals so saturated they almost felt radioactive. The busy patterns, combined with the glare of the afternoon sun, assaulted me.

But I refused to wince. I couldn’t afford to show any signs of weakness.

“You were very lucky this time. This wouldn’t have gotten approved if Gilbert hadn’t vouched for you.” She pressed her frosted pink lips together and studied me. Judged me. Found me wanting. “Your lack of foresight is quite disappointing.”

Her demeanor was harsher than usual and disproportionate to my offense. Had Heather said something about the ballet gala? Or did she suspect that Cal and I were together?

“I apologize for the oversight, Dr. Sethi. It won’t happen again,” I said, injecting as much sincerity into my voice as I could muster.

“Oh?” She tapped her manicured finger against the paper. “Then why did you only request one leave?”

Apprehension pricked at my scalp. “It’s what my designation counselor and I decided would be best for now, given my situation.”

“Yes, I’m aware of your extenuating circumstances. But your fellowship agreement doesn’t permit two to four heat leaves as a suggestion.” Dr. Sethi’s pen slashed across the approval line with practiced precision. “Schedule a second heat for the spring—and do sopromptly. Understood?”

I focused on taking steady breaths, ignoring my screaming omega, who was convinced that Dr. Sethi kneweverything. That Cal was my boyfriend, that we’d been intimate, and that he was planning to be an integral part of my upcoming, but still very unwelcome, heat.

But I didn’t panic. Civility was the best course of action.

“Yes, Dr. Sethi. I understand.”

She slid the paperwork toward me with a dismissive flick as if shooing away a distasteful pest. I slipped the form into the front pocket of my work bag.

“I’m amenable to accommodations—not exceptions,” Dr. Sethi said, leaning back in her chair, twisting the largest of her diamond matingrings. “Don’t leave openings, Morgan. You never know who might take advantage of them.”

***

As I zoned out in front of the vending machines, debating whether veggie chips or pretzels would be less bothersome to vomit up later, Joaquin and Alijah came down the hall. They were heading for the staff breakroom, hand in hand, whispering happily, with Joaquin carrying a bag of takeout.

For once, I was glad I couldn’t smell the food. It might have made me sick on the spot.

Joaquin spotted me first, sending a silent message through their bond that made Alijah’s face light up. He turned, dark eyes sparkling as he took me in, his smile growing broader the closer he came, his entire being so bright and vibrant that pain ricocheted through my skull.

I had to look away.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into my personal space, still smiling, still so happy—just as Coach Garvey and a few of his minions turned the corner. “Do you have time this weekend? I thought maybe we could go—”

“I’m working.” My blunt, unyielding tone shouldn’t have come as a surprise—I wasn’t a warm person—but it devastated Alijah. His mouth went slack, and his eyes lost their luster.

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