Page 21 of Altius
“Think it’d be easier to list what I haven’t tried.”
Wiggling one arm out of my blanket, I tucked my hair behind my left ear to show off the daith piercing on the innermost cartilage fold.
“Got this because it was supposed to help with migraines. Had phases where I was really into cupping, traction, hot yoga—you name it.”
And that’s how Kelsey found us when she walked in with her suitcase: detailing our various injuries and how we managed them, with Alijah humming to himself as he happily grated cheese in the background.
Five
Morgan
As Wyatt predicted, Kelsey and Cal couldn’t find fault with him accompanying me during my morning workouts and driving me to campus.
My hormones also stabilized enough to satisfy Cal, although a hint of my rusted scent occasionally leaked out. Nothing that a little scent-canceling spray couldn’t fix. He begrudgingly agreed that I could return to work on Tuesday. It helped that it was a short week due to the Thanksgiving holiday.
Wyatt pulled up to the staff entrance of the medical complex and gave me an uncertain glance. “I’m only saying this because I promised Alijah I would, but text me if you need to leave early. One of us can take you home at any point.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I said, flashing him a brief but genuinely thankful smile as I stepped onto the curb, pausing with my hand on the door. “But I’m powering through today, no matter what.”
He uppercut the air in encouragement. “You got this.”
I returned the gesture, shut the door, squared my shoulders, and marched into what would assuredly be a miserable meeting.
Dr. Flemming thankfully did most of the talking, but Dr. Sethi tried to get the last word.
“While I echo Gilbert’s sentiment,” she said, admiring her pearlescent peach manicure, which even I had to admit was a lovely contrast to her pale lilac blouse, “and appreciate how forthcoming you’ve been about this setback in your health, I disagree that your relationship with Mr. Redmond is adequately impersonal. While none of your actions have directly violated the university’s fraternization guidelines, I believe it’s only a matter of time, given your housing situation—and evidence of prior socialization.”
A harsh frown settled on Dr. Flemming’s face. It was the moose bowtie today. He meant business. “What are you implying, Anya?”
“I have it on good authority that Morgan attended the Belcrest Ballet’s annual fall gala with Mr. Redmond, his pack, and my—” She winced and bit off the near-acknowledgment of her maternally-adjacent relationship with my boyfriend. “With Cal.”
“Yes, I did,” I said, voice even and demeanor unbothered.
This conversation had been a long time coming, and it wasn’t my style to be caught unprepared.
“It’s no secret that my younger sister is a principal dancer for the ballet or that I’m a regular donor there.”
I pulled the gala table registration form out of my bag and handed it to Dr. Flemming. His eyebrows twitched every time he scanned yet another problematic name, then maxed out when he saw the cost of the table.
“While we’ve known each other for years, Wyatt and I haven’t kept in regular contact, so I only learned he accepted a job here from a press release after the fact. And I had no idea I’d developed professional ties with several members of his brother’s pack or that they were my neighbors until after Wyatt moved in with them.”
“None of which explains the ballet,” Dr. Sethi countered.
“It was simply an evening spent patronizing the arts with friends and a few family members.” I pointed to Alijah’s name on the attendee list. “His mate works at the ballet and is friends with my sister. Alijah and I happened to click during football games—just like Cal and I became friends through our mutual interests. But nothing unprofessional has ever occurred during working hours. All my meetings are thoroughly documented. I’ve met every research deadline. And even though I’m not providing medical coverage to the gymnastics team until next semester, Wyatt and I still approached this situation with an overabundance of caution because we knew how our relationship might appear out of context.”
Dr. Sethi’s eyes narrowed. “That still doesn’t—”
“I fail to see what you find so objectionable, Anya.” There was a rare edge to Dr. Flemming’s voice. I’d only heard it once before, when a volleyball coach tried to override his medical opinion. “The university doesn’t prohibit inter-dynamic friendships, and nothing about Morgan’s behavior—or anyoneelseyou’re trying to get involved—has violated the ethics clauses in their employment paperwork. Something, I might add, you just said yourself.”
He returned the registration form to me.
“Besides, they’ve offered to sign a temporary fraternization addendum until she’s cleared to drive again—or do you object to carpooling as a principle?”
“There arepictures,” she insisted.
I set my phone on the conference table, displaying a photo I’d taken at the gala with Wyatt and a pair of starstruck teenage girls.
“I pose for a lot of pictures.” Flicking through an album of fan photos specially prepared for this conversation, I continued at a sedate pace. “Wyatt and Cal do, too. The same goes for my best friends.”
