Page 90 of Citius

“Think the kid’s gonna be all right,” he said, moving further into my personal space. “Do you need a ride to—”

“No,” Owen firmly cut in, answering in my stead. “You and I have a conversation to finish.”

He extended his arm, finally returning my umbrella.

“At least let me walk you out,” Cal offered.

Owen sighed, directing a harsh glare at his old friend. “In her current state?”

Color tinged the tips of Cal’s ears, creeping down his neck as heopened his mouth, only to falter and close it again, unable to find any plausible retort—another point for Owen’s logic.

Eager to change into the spare, dry clothes waiting in my medical office locker, I turned and started down the hallway. “Have a good night, guys.”

Cal moved to follow, but Owen stopped him with a single raised finger. “Stay.”

Hm. Maybe he wasn’t such a nuisance after all. But I wasn’t about to stick around and find out.

If Cal was in a giving mood, he might pull enough strings to secure the visiting team’s locker room for my private use. One oversized romantic gesture per twenty-four hours was more than enough. Especially when I had to pay for them…and money wouldn’t always be his currency of choice.

Twenty-Six

Morgan

The udon restaurant wasn’t much to write home about, a few wobbly tables and a dozen booths, all leftovers from its prior life as a taqueria, with some low-res photos on the wall. But the flavors were beautiful—and it was warm inside—which I greatly appreciated after a chilly afternoon spent on the sidelines.

Christine leaned back in the booth, running her fingers through her platinum blonde pixie cut. Her brown roots were showing, and she’d lost some weight since I’d last seen her, but she still radiated her usual cheer and determination.

“Okay, you’ve talked me off the ledge. Knew you were the right person to ask.”

“Fellowships are competitive,” I said, poking at the remnants of my spicy beef udon, wishing I still had one more bite. Neither of us had eaten much today. We’d devoured our food in record time. “But that’s not a good reason to play it safe. Rank the program you want first. It’ll work out.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Northport wasn’t my first choice.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “What? It’s the best sports medicine fellowship in the state!”

“But Garroway Forest has the better program for omega athletes.”

“Oh,” Christine said, tilting her head in that slightly uncomfortable way she always did when reminded that I wasn’t a beta.

Most people at the children’s hospital found my designationconfusing. What kind of omega only takes one heat leave in three years?

“I guess that makes sense. Rank the program that fits your goals best first.” Christine fussed with her chopsticks. “Is Garroway Forest hiring?”

“Not that I know of. But I’m keeping them, and a few other schools, on my radar.”

“I still think you’ll get the Northport job.”

“We’ll see.”

“You could always come back to the hospital. It’d make Lambert and Romero’s year.”

I sifted through my patchy mental roster from the children’s hospital. Lambert was in emergency medicine, or was that Romero? One of them was an oncologist. Maybe. Clearly, neither one had left a memorable impression.

“Why?”

“Because,” Christine said, looking at me like the answer was obvious, “they were halfway in love with you.”

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