Page 20 of One for the Money
I dip my head and step back several paces as they crowd into my space. I don’t think they do it on purpose, but both of them flare their nostrils, trying to scent me in my space.
Good luck. I’m going to great lengths to keep that from happening.
“Dexter needs a prescription for sleep meds,” Dario says. His brother starts to protest, but he slaps his handover his mouth. “He’s going to tell you that he doesn’t, that he’s fine, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to be here or talk to you. He’s got insomnia, and if he’s tired, he won’t catch me, and I could die.”
Dexter mutters something that sounds like ‘drama queen’ against his brother’s hand.
These must be the notorious Reynolds twins. Trapeze artists, if I remember correctly from the website.
“What’s keeping you awake?” I ask Dexter, trying to catch his eye. He’s staring at the ceiling, seething. “I am not prescribing meds if you won’t talk to me.”
He rips Dario’s hand from his mouth. “I don’t need them, I’m fine. He’s being dramatic.”
“You’renotfine!” his brother hisses. He looks at me. “He’s not fine. Our father was an Omega and murdered our mother in front of us. You being here is triggering for him. He already has nightmares, and last night he didn’t sleep at all because of it. I’m not waiting until it gets bad again.”
I have to take a moment to process all the information that he throws at me and catalog it.
Omega father, murdered their mother.
They saw it.
My presence, my designation, triggers him.
I nod tightly.
“Understood. Dexter, I apologize that my sudden appearance here is distressing to you. I understand what it’s like to struggle around a specific designation, even though you know not everyone is like that. I’ll write you a prescription for some sleep meds, and please let me know what I can do to make my presence here more comfortable for you. If you’d prefer to text me versus coming to see me, we can arrange that. I’ll need to check in and see howyou’re adjusting to the meds, but that doesn’t have to be done face to face.”
His body deflates a little, and he nods. He’s still not looking at me, but it’s progress.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Dario says gently. “It’s risky to do what we do when sleep deprived and…”
“Say no more.” I keep my voice soft, and I don’t step closer to the two. I don’t want to risk upsetting Dexter further. “Let me call it in. You should be able to pick it up before the show tonight.”
Dario nods and turns, leading Dexter out of the trailer. As the door closes, one of them says softly, “Thanks, Doc,” but I couldn’t say which.
Chapter 8
“We can’t keep meetinglike this,” I say to Edmund, who is, once again, sprawled out on the grass outside the big top. This time, however, it’s not a head injury. He’s got a bad sprain.
He chuckles and pushes himself up on his elbows. “What can I say, I’m just trying to get more time with ya.”
Trevor snorts from where he’s leaning over his bike and elbows the Hispanic man standing beside him. “You buy that, Enrique?”
The other Alpha runs his fingers through his long, dark hair. “Not even a little. I think our stagehand has a crush on the pretty Omega doctor.”
Edmund flushes pink and shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not it at all! I’m just clumsy.”
I pat his knee gently and begin wrapping his ankle in a tight bandage. “Lucky for you, it’s not a bad sprain. Stay off it for about a week, and you should be right as rain.”
He groans, throwing his head back dramatically. He’s cute, a little young, maybe nineteen or twenty, and has strawberry blond hair that he’s constantly blowing out ofhis eyes. “Who’s gonna do my job, then? I can’t be out of work for a week. We gotta pack up soon.”
I shrug, sitting back on my heels. “Honestly? Not my problem to solve. What is it they say, not my circus, not my monkeys?” I laugh at my own joke as Edmund rolls his eyes at my bad joke. “I just mean to say that Jude needs to have contingencies in place for injuries. There’s gotta be a job you can switch with someone for the week.”
“What about lighting?” Enrique throws out, his soft accent making every word he says sensual. “We could get him to switch with Chet.”
Trevor snaps his fingers. “Brilliant idea. Doc, call bossman and run it by him.”
“No need,” the deep voice behind me says. “Willard called me when he saw Edmund sprawled out.” The showrunner pins me with a glare, but it lacks much of its normal intensity. “Why aren’t you calling me when these injuries come in?”
