Page 1 of Age of Shade

CHAPTER ONE

ASHER

3 Years Ago

“Do you see, right back here?” I lean over so my patient’s mother can peer into her son’s mouth, narrowing her eyes to make out the reflection in the tiny mirror I’m holding.

“That’s acavity?” She winces, hurriedly sitting back in her chair with a chalk-white face.

Setting my tools on the tray table, I nod sympathetically. “It is. A pretty nasty one, too.” I hand her son a small paper cup of water and he gulps it back greedily, looking relieved I’m no longer prodding and poking around in his mouth. “Fortunately, it’s just a baby tooth. He would have lost it within the next year or two anyway, so I would recommend extraction in this case. It’s really not worth filling it.”

“Awesome. You’re gonna rip out my tooth?” my patient, Guillermo, asks enthusiastically. “Can I have it after?”

I have to press my lips together to keep myself from laughing out loud. “Sure, I’ll keep it for you to give to the tooth fairy.”

Guillermo pauses, considering. “Instead, can I hang it around my neck like a shark’s tooth? It wouldtotallyfreak out Jeremy and Trey.”

Snapping my gloves off and tossing them toward the trash, I can’t help but chuckle at his bright, hopeful expression. “I think that’s a discussion you’ll need to have with your mom.” Glancing over at her, I see she’s still pale, her face pinched together with worry. “It’s a very minor, safe procedure. I have room in my schedule on Friday afternoon, so he wouldn’t need to miss much school.”

She nods slowly, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Do you know how much it will cost?”

My heart sinks. I’m currently the only pediatric dentist in this neighborhood, and it’s not a mystery why. In this area of New York—a working-class corner of Harlem—hardly any of my patients have the luxury of dental insurance or parents who can take days off work and shell out thousands of dollars for surgeries. “I’ll have my office manager work up an estimate for you before you leave. We do partner with a monthly payment service—”

She’s already shaking her head, though, staring at the floor with embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “My credit is shit. You know how it is.”

Yeah, I know exactly how it is. My mother raised my brother and me alone, with no help from the men who fathered us. She lives in Florida now, happily retired and living in a condo David and I purchased for her a few years back. We made it through, but I’ll still never forget the days when the only full meal we got was at school, or what it was like to hear mom crying over a stack of bills at the kitchen table when she thought we were sleeping.

My chest pinches as I reach out, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “You’re in luck. I keep room in the budget for pro bono procedures, and I have enough left to do one more before the end of the year.”

Her jaw slackens and she stares at me, eyes suddenly brimming with tears like I just told her she won the lottery. “You’reserious?”

“As a heart attack.” I offer Guillermo my fist to bump.

He does, looking at me with a little more warmth than he was previously. Kids his age, ten or eleven, start rolling their eyes and crossing their arms when I walk into the exam room with a lab coat that’s tie-dyed and adorned with buttons shaped like dancing, smiling teeth. It takes some work to win them over—they’re infinitely cooler than I am, after all—but we always get there.

Victory is sweet.

Grinning more to myself than Guillermo, I stand, gesturing to the hall. “Go ahead and head up front. Lisa will get you scheduled for the extraction. I’ll see you guys on Friday.”

Guillermo’s mom lingers in the doorway, waiting until her son is safely out of earshot before turning to me. She wipes her eyes. “Can’t thank you enough, Doctor Roth. I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t know how I was gonna buy groceries this week, never mind dental surgery.” She hugs me, and my eyes are stinging too by the time she pulls away. “You’re getting a dish ofthe bestfucking chicken I cook. No arguments.”

I chuckle, holding up both hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The moment she’s gone, all the energy seems to drain out of me at once. I slump back against the supply station, pinching the bridge of my nose. I want to regret offering, because it’s December and god knows my pro bono budget was gone by February, but I couldn’t just let the kid walk around in pain while his mom hates herself for not being able to fix it.

I can survive the financial hit. They can’t.

Tilting my head back until it hits the cabinets with a hollowthud, I allow myself a few seconds of exhaustion. I know whatI’m doing is important. I’m helping people,helping kids,but the strain never seems to ease up. Every day seems to bring a new set of problems my limited resources can’t solve while the state of my personal life grows grimmer.

My five-year relationship, which should be speeding toward wedding bells and diapers right about now, is instead hobbling along with the help of a trained counselor.

I can hardly blame Lindsey for being unhappy. When we met, I was about to graduate from dental school. I only had to get through one last internship at the clinic in my old neighborhood before graduating, then I would have finally been able to accept that six-figure job offer at a practice in the financial district. I was bound for a lucrative career, cementing veneers onto Wall Street bros, until myidiotheart got involved.

Somehow, my girlfriend found herself dating a poor, inner-city dentist. A poor, inner-city dentist who still hasn’t asked her to marry him, despite the titanic-sized hints she’s been dropping daily for over a year. The last time we had sex—fuck. I don’t remember. Was it three months ago? Four? I flex my wrist at the thought, grimacing.

I’m due at couples therapy soon, where I’ll spend the better part of an hour struggling to explain to myself, Lindsey, and the counselor why the thought of getting married makes me break out in hives.

Cursing under my breath, I muster what’s left of my energy and push off the wall. Most of the dental assistants and hygienists have already gone home, but I get a few warm smiles and waves from the office staff as they head out into the night, bundled up in winter gear. Fighting off another wave of bitter exhaustion, I move through the quiet building, turning off lights and shutting down machinery as I go.

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