Page 13 of Better Late Than Never

Because fuck me, Iwantedto.

CHAPTER6

ALEX

Friday night’s roll in the hay with Isidoro had been a hot one, but it felt like a distant memory on Monday morning. Every bit of distraction he’d wrung out of me before I’d gone home wasn’t doing me a damn bit of good anymore, and it had nothing to do with him or Lieutenant Commander Marks.

I never spent the night with hookups, and nights like last night were the main reason why. Horrific but familiar nightmares had shaken me out of a restless sleep at least three or four times before my alarm had gone off. Halfway to work, I’d had to pull over and calm myself down, calling on every coping mechanism I had to push away the tentacles of an impending panic attack.

An hour after I’d mustered for work, I’d had to drag out all those coping mechanisms once again, and I could only be grateful no one had been in Radiology right then. Luckily, I’d pulled myself together before any patients had come in, but it had been a close call. I’d even managed to slip away to change out of my sweaty utilities; good thing we all kept extra clothes on site in case someone puked or bled on us.

A few hours later, I was still jittery and off-balance, but I doubted anyone noticed but me. After years of dealing with this bullshit—not to mention fighting to keep it out of anyone’s sight—I was a seasoned veteran (so to speak) at pretending I was fine. And by this point, Iwasmore or less fine. If anything, I felt a little like I was trying to function after a sleepless night and skipping a couple of meals—lightheaded, struggling to concentrate, kind of shaky. PTSD was a constant companion, and I was as used to it as anyone could get, but it wasn’t fun.

I’d be all right, though. Especially once I got home and didn’t have topretendto be all right anymore.

For now, I had patients.

“If these are actually safe,” the young Sailor said suspiciously, “why do you leave the room every time you turn it on?”

I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Because you’re only getting three images taken. I use it on a couple dozen people per day every day.”

He didn’t look reassured. “But if it’s safe…”

“It’s safe in small doses. The exposure I would get if I stayed in the room for every image I took over weeks and months would definitely be dangerous.” I paused. “You take Motrin, right?”

He snorted. “Good ol’ Vitamin M.” He wasn’t wrong—the military issued Motrin for every goddamned thing from an acute injury to recovery from major surgery. Vitamin M, indeed.

“And you only take what you’re prescribed, right?”

The Sailor nodded.

“Right. But if you took the whole bottle at once, it would be toxic, wouldn’t it?”

He pursed his lips, clearly seeing where I was going with this but not liking that he’d been wrong. “Maybe that means Motrin is toxic, then.”

It took a lot of work to not roll my eyes. Calling on every ounce of professionalism and military bearing I possessed, I blandly said, “Anything is toxic in a high enough dose.” Then I stepped back. “All right, hold still. One more image, and we’re done.”

I went into the next room, and as I pushed the button for the X-ray to do its thing, I finally indulged in that eyeroll. For the millionth time, I was glad this hospital didn’t have an MRI machine. Instead, we sent patients out in town to Spanish hospitals for MRIs, which meanttheycould deal with the concerned conspiracy theorists worried about radiation (there was none), carcinogenic contrast dye (it wasn’t), and the magnets rearranging DNA strands (they didn’t). Oh, the stories their translators told after some of those appointments…

With the Sailor’s X-rays finished, I took the lead apron from him and sent him on his way. I transmitted the images to his doctor along with my notes, and that was that. Then I headed out into the waiting area to see if anyone was waiting.

There was, and I didnotexpect the person in question to be Lieutenant Commander Marks.

Fuck. Because I wasn’t already wildly off-balance.

“Oh. Uh…” I stammered, then remembered myself. “Good morning, sir.” Sometimes I hated the formality of rank, but it did keep some distance between us that I desperately needed right now.

“Good morning, HM1.” He held my gaze, but then flicked his eyes away. “I, uh… I wanted to ask about something.” He gulped. “Related to our last conversation.”

Aww, fuck. So much for professional distance.

And did we have to do this now? While I was still reeling from last night and this morning’s fuckery?

Apparently so.

I cleared my throat and gestured for my office. “Sure. Yeah. Let’s, um… Let’s sit in there.” It was more cramped than the waiting area, but offered a modicum of privacy.

With the door shut, we settled in. Though I was far too restless to sit, I needed the desk as a buffer and to hide my shaking legs, so I took a seat behind it. Marks took the guest chair, and he looked about as nervous as I felt.

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