Page 225 of Toxic Temptation
Osip immediately goes still, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. Eventually, he sighs and puts it back down. “I’m sure that’s not?—”
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand. “Just don’t. We both know it’s true. He’s been avoiding me ever since that night, and we both know why.”
“Vesper—”
“He’s angry with me. And honestly? I don’t blame him.” I have to take a shaky breath before continuing. “I was an idiot. I saw a woman covered in blood, holding what I thought was a baby, and I forgot about everything. Forgot about Ihor and Yana and all the warnings. I went into doctor mode and stopped listening to the man trying to keep me alive.”
“That’s not?—”
“I should have stayed in the car.” I rub my tired eyes. “I should have trusted him. And because I didn’t, because I thought I knew better, Kovan is walking around with stitches and another scar to add to his collection.”
Osip reaches across the table, but I pull my hands away before he can touch them. “Listen to me,” he says, gentle but firm. “Kovan doesn’t give a shit about a few cuts and bruises. He’s had worse. What happened to him that night was nothing, and even if it wasn’t, he would never blame you for it.”
“Then why?” I whisper. “Why hasn’t he been able to look me in the eye for three days? Why does he find an excuse to leave every room I enter? Why is he sleeping in the guest room instead of our bed?”
Osip shifts uncomfortably and looks away. “He’s been busy.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. We’re trying to figure out how to hit back at Ihor. What happened that night is going to happen again, and next time, we need to be ready for it. You and Kovan were alone out there for too long. If he hadn’t been as fast as he was, if backup had taken another five minutes to arrive…” He trails off, but he doesn’t have to finish painting the picture for me to get it.
I stand abruptly, feeling nauseous. “I have rounds.”
“Vesper, wait?—”
But I’m already walking away, leaving my untouched sandwich behind. For once, Osip doesn’t stop me.
I’m making my way through the seventh floor when I spot a familiar figure walking toward room seventeen: Camille Sawyer, Leo’s mother. Leo was a former patient of mine. But that’s impossible. Leo was discharged weeks ago after a routine appendectomy.
I flag down the nearest nurse. “What’s Mrs. Sawyer doing here?”
The nurse pulls up Leo’s file on her tablet and reads it to me. “Leo Sawyer was readmitted this morning with complaints of severe abdominal pain. Looks like he developed a post-surgical infection.”
“Why wasn’t I notified?” I snap irritably. “I’m his attending physician. I should have been called the moment he walked through those doors.”
The nurse’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, Dr. Fairfax. I was told you weren’t on his case anymore.”
Cold dread settles in my stomach. “Who told you that?”
“His case was transferred to…” She scrolls through the file. “Dr. Fleming.”
“Fleming?!” I stare at her in disbelief. “Jeremy Fleming took over a pediatric appendectomy case? Jeremy is not a pediatric surgeon. Jeremy does not see patients. Jeremy cannot— Look, what the hell is going on?”
The nurse winces, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “All I can say is what the chart says.”
Something is very, very wrong here. Leo shouldn’t be back here—everything in his treatment was smooth and normal. And Jeremy Fleming has no business anywhere near my patients, especially not a child with a routine post-surgical complication.
“Thank you,” I tell the nurse, already turning toward Leo’s room. I knock on the doorframe before stepping inside. “Mrs. Sawyer? May I come in?”
Camille Sawyer jumps to her feet. I look past her to see that Leo is asleep in the bed, his face pale and drawn. An IV drips medication I didn’t prescribe into his small arm.
“Dr. Fairfax.” She’s brittle with anxiety. “What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Is Leo having complications?”
She glances back at her son, wringing her hands. “He developed an infection after his surgery.”
“His surgery was three weeks ago. Infections don’t typically present this late unless?—”
