Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Story of my life.”
May prepped the skin with chlorhexidine, careful not to flood the wound itself. Four sutures brought the edges together cleanly. She cleaned the area again and applied antibiotic ointment, then covered it with a sterile non-adherent dressing and secured it with paper tape. “No heavy lifting. No twisting. You pop one of those sutures and I’m not fixing it.” She peeled off the gloves.
Stella pushed herself upright slowly, blue eyes wide and alert despite the pain. “I got in a little bit of a scuffle. It wasn’t a big deal.”
May crossed her arms. “I have to report this.”
“No, you don’t. It’s not a gunshot wound. Alaska statute requires mandatory reporting for gunshots and certain assaults, not bar fights.” Stella rattled the law off smoothly. “You don’t have to report this.”
May studied her. “Stella, what are you doing here?”
Stella shook her head. “I can’t really tell you.”
“You know Damian’s looking for you?”
“I’m well aware.”
May wanted to help. “He hasn’t found you, though, has he?”
“Damian and I’ll meet up when I’m ready,” Stella said with a wink. “Or if he finds me.” She slid off the exam table carefully. “Thanks, Doc. I’d have you bill me, but I don’t have a place for you to send the bill.” She drew in a shallow breath. “What do I owe you?”
“I don’t do the books,” May said. “How about you just stay for dinner?”
“No thanks.”
May looked toward the door. “You know Brock is right down the hall, right?”
Stella jerked and then hissed in pain. “Seriously? You can’t tell anybody I’m here. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”
May held her gaze. “All right. I guess that’s true. But let me help you. Somebody cut you.”
“I’m fine. The other guy won’t do it again.” Stella shrugged, though the movement pulled at her side and made her wince.
May sighed. “You need to keep that dressing clean and dry for twenty-four hours. Change it tomorrow with sterile gauze. No soaking it. No baths. Showers only, and keep your back to the spray. Watch for redness, swelling, warmth, drainage, fever. If you spike anything over a hundred-point-four, you come back. No heavy lifting. No twisting at the waist. And absolutely no fighting.”
Stella grinned faintly. “You take all the fun out of it.”
“I’m serious.”
“Thanks, Doc.” She paused. “I heard Ace is in trouble. How bad is it?”
May’s stomach clenched. “Bad.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Stella shoved a folded piece of paper into May’s hand. “Leave a message here to get ahold of me only if you really need help.” She opened the door and looked both ways. With that, Stella Osprey disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived, slipping down the hallway and right out the front door.
May stood there for a long second, listening to the faint click of the door shutting. Then she stripped off her gloves, cleaned the exam table, disposed of the bloody gauze in biohazard, wiped down every surface with disinfectant, and tossed the used instruments into sterilization. The faint metallic scent of blood lingered beneath the harsh bite of chlorhexidine.
Her heart was still racing. She walked back down to her office at the far end of the hall, trying to smooth her expression before she stepped inside.
“Another case of the flu?” Brock asked without looking up from the map.
“Uh-huh.” She made a noncommittal sound and moved to her chair.
Her mind spun. She felt like she had a duty to tell Damian his wife was alive and in town—or at least close to town—but she couldn’t. She was Stella’s doctor now. Confidentiality wasn’t optional. Why wouldn’t Stella just call Damian? Something about the situation felt off. Hopefully Stella would come back if she needed help.
The front door jangled again.
May closed her eyes briefly. “Please let that be a flu patient,” she muttered.
“Where the hell is she?” a man bellowed.
Brock was already on his feet. “Damian?”
Damian stormed into the room, his shoulders tight and coiled. “Where’s Stella?”
May’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know she was here?”
Ophelia whirled around. “What do you mean she was here?”
May winced. That hadn’t come out right.
“I know she was here,” Damian said flatly. “I’ve got scouts everywhere. Someone saw her come in. Where is she?”
May held her ground. “She left.”
“Was she hurt?” His voice dropped lower, tighter.
May pressed her lips together. She couldn’t say a word. In fact, she’d probably just screwed up.
Damian’s jaw locked hard enough she was sure he’d give himself a headache. He exhaled through his nose. “Is she okay now?”
“Yes,” May said carefully. “She’s okay.” That much she could give him. “What do you mean you have scouts all over town?”
Damian ignored that. “Did she say where she’s been?”
“She didn’t tell me anything,” May said honestly.
“Damn it.” He turned and braced his hand against the doorframe, head dropping for a few seconds. The room went quiet except for the faint hum of the overhead lights. Ophelia shot Brock a look. Brock just shrugged.