Page 67 of The Devil You Know
“Listen,” he says. “I was thinking about it, and I think I do want to be tested after all. So can you give me that kit?”
“Um.” I don’t know whether I’m more scared or irritated. Irritated, I think. “I don’t have it with me, Mr. Powell. Can you come back tomorrow?” When there are more witnesses.
He frowns at me. “I’d really like to have it now.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I can’t give it to you now.”
Mr. Powell’s eyes darken and my pulse quickens. I think about the key in my hand. What was Ithinking? This key iscompletely useless. I can’t stab someone with this! If he decides to attack me, that’s it. I’m attacked.
Maybe I can surreptitiously call 911.
“Dr. McGill!”
I hear the second voice coming from across the lobby. I turn my head and before anything else, I see the green scrubs. I know who this is. I know who’s coming to save me. Again.
“Dr. Reilly,” I manage.
He jogs across the lobby, never taking his eyes off my patient. He gets it. He steps right between me and Mr. Powell, standing close enough to be intimidating. Ryanhas at least two or three inches on Mr. Powell, as well as at least twenty pounds of muscle.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Ryan asks Mr. Powell in a hard voice.
“I…” Mr. Powell glances at me, then back at Ryan. “No. I was just leaving.”
“Great.” Ryan nods in the direction of the door. “Have a good evening.”
Ryan doesn’t leave my side as we watch Mr. Powell exit the building. I look down at my hands, which are shaking. Ryan shakes his head as Mr. Powell’s hunched figure disappears into the distance.
“Don’t you have some mace?” he asks me. “You’re really lucky I was here.”
“He wasn’t really going to attack me,” I say confidently. I want that to be the truth. I don’t want to think about what might have happened if Ryan weren’t here.
He shrugs. “Yeah, well… I’m not letting you go out there by yourself. I’ll walk you to your car.”
I look at the short sleeves of his green scrub top. “You’ll be freezing.”
“It’s not that far,” he says. “I’ll be okay.”
He’s so good to me. He’s always been good to me. He looked out for me through three years of residency—I’m not sure if I would have made it through without him. I’d probably have quit and be doing… I don’t know, psychiatry or physical medicine right now. He’s stood up to patients for me before. Somehow when I’ve needed him, he’s always been there. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he showed up right now, when I need him the most.
If something had happened to me tonight, would Ben have evencared?
“Jane…” His dark blond eyebrows knit together. “Why are you crying?”
“I…” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I think my marriage might be over.”
His blue eyes widen. After a beat, he grabs my arm and gently pulls me toward the elevators. He hits the button for up.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “You really want to talk about this in the lobby?”
I try to get my tears under control in the elevator, but it’s hard. I know I look like a mess when I’m crying. My nose gets all red, my face gets splotchy, and my eyes become bloodshot. Despite everything, I still care what I look like around Ryan.
We end up at the end of a long hallway on the eighth floor, in front of a door with a sign that reads, “Ryan Reilly, MD. Associate Chairman of Vascular Surgery.” And his office is befitting of a guy who is the associate chairman of vascular surgery. Mine barely has room formy desk and a couple of chairs, but his is spacious enough to include a luxurious leather sofa that’s probably nicer than anything in my house.
“Don’t get too jealous,” Ryan says. “The sofa is from my office at the private practice where I worked before this.”
I sink into it, trying to smile through my tears. “It’s really comfortable.”
