Page 179 of Altius
Dropping both feet back to the ground, I turned to face him, wondering if the man who Cal considered a surrogate uncle, and I’d begun to view as a trusted mentor, was telling me to abandon medicine because of my designation.
“I’m a physician,” I said firmly through a thin veil of anger.
“Yes. An excellent one.” His hands flexed, coming to rest on his knees, fingers digging into the fabric of his slacks. “Just like Laurel was an outstanding designation counselor. But the system…”
“I don’t care if I have to apply to every sports medicine opening in the country, I am going to get a good job.” Gripping the underside of my chair, I leaned closer. “I don’t care about the system’s rules—because it’s broken. It should be razed and rebuilt from the ground up, allowing everyone to succeed based on merit.”
Dr. Flemming offered a small, nostalgic smile as he raised his eyes to meet mine. “So do it. Take that fire—and all your resources—anddo it, Morgan. Don’t settle.” He nodded toward the player who’d missed her second free throw. “They fouled her, and she fought back. She might have only scored one point today. But next time? I guarantee it’ll be two.”
I stared at the player as she ran down the court, her determined gait reminding me of my younger self for a split second.
Dr. Flemming leaned closer and said softly, “Do you know what Laurel did when Chaz said a Carling omega couldn’t work at a non-profit for pennies? She beat him at his own game—and founded her own.”
The scope of what he was suggesting, the mere possibility, caused my entire body to break out in goosebumps.
“But I don’t have managerial experience. And I hate hassle.”
His congenial chuckle landed heavily on the scales of fate.
“Then you have to decide what you dislike more: taking orders or giving them.”
***
Alijah made an outstanding body pillow.
Settled between his legs in the library nest, resting my head against his shoulder, I reviewed PheroPass data from the omegamen’s gymnastics team on my tablet while he watched a pottery competition show on his laptop.
The perfect distraction from the glaring red countdown clock in my head. Nine more days until I could be with Wyatt again.
“Oh, look,” Alijah said, stroking my upper arm.
I glanced at the screen, where a judge assessed a modern teapot with a dark green glaze fading into black toward the bottom.
“That’d be perfect for your nest.”
“Why—did I ask for tea during my heat?”
Alijah wrapped his arms around my waist, his laugh tickling my ear. “No, silly. Because it’s exactly your style and would look beautiful there.”
I gave the teapot and its matching pieces a proper look. “The lines are nice. Very clean.”
“But you don’t see the point,” he teased, “because tea’s just a hot beverage to you, not an experience.”
“Smart boy.” I reached up to pat the side of his cheek, then gave it a quick pinch. “But not smart enough to know I wanted to take pottery classes when I was younger. Who spilled?”
Alijah groaned, holding me tight as he buried his face in the crook of my shoulder. “Don’t make me say it. They’ll never help me again.”
“Which means it’s either Piper, Jacobi…or Papa.”
He reared back, adorably aghast. “I’d never ask your fathers for date ideas!”
“Date ideas, eh?” Indulging in a small smile, I opened the latest data readings from the alpha women’s team. “Tell Jacobi he did an excellent job. Tonight was perfect.”
“H-how…?
“Simple. Kelsey and I don’t meddle in each other’s love lives, except for the occasional gentle nudge when one of us is being anidiot. And no, I won’t tell you her opinion on you lot.” Flipping to the next tab, I continued. “Piper believes I’m incredibly boring and would no doubt have tried to steer you toward dinner at a fancy restaurant or going clubbing. Which you would have had the good sense to ignore.”
Angling my head, I admired his thick eyelashes and the strong planes of his nose. “Which just leaves ye olde bestie.”
