Page 61 of One for the Money
I raise an eyebrow in surprise, and Quinton chuckles. “You two shouldn’t act so surprised. I’m wearing her shirt under mine. I’m feeling better than I have in months.”
It’s a positive that I can’t overlook. Having Alex here may have shaken things up, but Quinton needed her, and he may never have found her without me fucking up and not verifying that Dr. Alex Shields was an Alpha.
“I thought she’d be out by now,” Matteo muses, pulling a stick of charcoal down the page of the notebook he haspropped on his knees. “I know this is a lot to work through, but I didn’t think she’d bury her head in the sand.”
“Give her time,” Quinton chastises. “She won’t be able to deny this any more than we can.”
I snort. “She seems stubborn as hell. If anyone can ignore a scent match, it’s Dr. Alex Shields.”
“Well, I’m not going to let her wallow forever,” Matteo mutters, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to check in on her.”
Chapter 22
I’ve keptmy eye on my phone, just in case anyone has an emergency that requires my assistance, but I’ve put a sign on my door indicating that I’m ill and my clinic hours are cancelled until further notice.
It’s been two days since I realized this circus is full of scent matches for me while sick with the flu, and I don’t feel any better than I did that night, when I got dragged out of my trailer to care for Quinton.
Quinton.
The handsome Alpha is such a sweet man, and he’s going to be collateral damage in the wake of my trauma. He’s going to be another on the long list of things Rich has taken from me.
He needs my pheromones to keep his Alpha Rot from progressing, and I need to hide my pheromones to keep my scent matches at bay and protect myself.
Am I a monster if I don’t help him? If I leave him to succumb to the Rot?
Because that is what I’m doing, if I go back on the suppressants, I’m basically condemning him to a life ofpain because I hold the cure in my pheromones. Sure, there is a possibility of him meeting another scent match, but that’s slim. And pointless when he has me sitting right here, available to him.
If only I could let myself have him and the others.
Instead, I have to accept that if I am going to protect myself, he’s going to suffer.
I am a doctor. How does this relate to my vow to “do no harm”? Couldn’t it be argued that it would harm me to go off my suppressants so he can have access to my pheromones?
Emotional harm is still harm, and I would not be in a good place mentally if I had to work surrounded by scent matches for the entirety of my six-month contract and then walk away from them.
Because staying after the end of my contract isn’t an option, I would leave now if I had enough money saved up to tide me over until I figured something else out.
My phone chimes, and I pull the blanket off my head. I’ve been so wrapped up in my nest that I haven’t been eating or drinking. I know I need to do both if I am to get better, but I don’t have the energy to pull myself out of this comfortable pile of linens.
I know that I can’t ignore the outside world forever, as much as I want to, so I grab the phone from my nightstand.
Matteo
Hey, Alex. I know that things are insane and overwhelming, and none of us handled it well the other night. That wasn’t fair to you. I don’t blame you for sneaking out. I probably would have done the same.
I’m not trying to guilt you or force your hand or anything, and Quinton may be too proud to ask himself, but I’m not.
Do you have any linens or clothing I can have to keep on hand for him? Right now, he’s still doing okay, having your shirt close, but I want to stave off as much of the Rot for as long as possible.
I know it’s not your responsibility to fix him, but I love him. I’ll do anything to save him, even begging you for help. I can’t watch him waste away.
He’s a good Alpha. A good man.
Well, fuck me.
What do I say to that? How do I deny him something that will, without a doubt, help keep the man he loves from succumbing to a terminal illness, for however short a time that is? It feels like a slippery slope, opening myself up to be used as nothing more than medicine for the ailing Alpha, but what harm does it cause me to give him some of my dirty clothes or linens?
I don’t want to be beholden to the whims of a scent match again, but I want Quinton’s pain and demise on my shoulders even less.
