Page 25 of Toxic Temptation
Some people are meant to save lives. Others are meant to destroy them.
The trick is always knowing which one you are.
9
VESPER
ONE WEEK LATER
Most people spend their lives trying to avoid hospitals.
Me? I’m the freak who finds them comforting.
The fluorescent lights remind me less of sickness and more of late nights in the cafeteria with Dad, him grading resident evaluations while I demolished chocolate chip cookies. The antiseptic smell doesn’t make me nauseous—it takes me back to early mornings in the doctor’s lounge, playing games on his phone while he prepped for surgery. Even the sterile white walls feel like home, like all those weekends I spent curled up in the medical library, pretending to read journals that were way above my eight-year-old comprehension level.
St. Raphael’s has always been my sanctuary.
So why am I standing in front of my locker right now, staring at my scrubs like they’re prison clothes?
Because, for the first time in my entire career, I’d rather be anywhere else.
Like, say, back at home in my pajamas, drinking coffee that doesn’t taste like it was filtered through wet cardboard. Maybe lying in bed, letting my mind wander to?—
No. Stop. Don’t even think about?—
But it’s too late. My brain is off and running, conjuring up more of the same fantasies that have haunted me every night for a week. Fantasies of a man with moss green eyes and massive hands dragging me into a supply closet. Of a white dressing room, a black dress, a red bloodstain, a big mistake. Watercolor fragments of things that never should’ve happened.
“Dr. Fairfax?”
I jerk back to reality. Dr. Michelle Abel is watching me from across the locker room, concern creasing her forehead.
“You okay?” she asks. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”
If only she knew.“Fine. Just still getting over that flu.”
That’s a half-assed lie, if that. But what else am I supposed to say?Sorry, I’m having dirty thoughts about the mob boss who kidnapped me last week. Gimme just a sec—I was almost at the good part.
“That’s right.” Michelle nods sympathetically. “Lucky you left early that day. Before the… incident.”
The incident.That’s what everyone’s calling it. Like calling it something neutral and sanitized, something HR-approved, will make the bloodstains disappear from the hallway.
“Yeah. Lucky,” I echo. I extract my scrubs from my locker and slam the door.
“You sure you’re ready to be back?” Michelle presses. “You seem distracted.”
Distractedis one word for it.Completely fucked upin the headmight be more accurate.
“I’m fine,” I lie again as I quickly change into my work clothes. “Just need to get back into the rhythm, that’s all.”
The millisecond I’m dressed, I wave goodbye to Michelle and start my rounds. But when I turn the corner to see the nurses’ station, I dig in my heels and frown.
“Morning, Dr. Fairfax!” Marissa looks up at me happily. She’s all sunshine and smiles, probably because she wasn’t here when bullets started flying. Her cheerfulness grates against my nerves.
“Where are Sonya and Adelaide?”
Her smile falters slightly. “They’re not scheduled today. Me, Beverly, and Hayden are covering.”
“That’s… that’s not right. Check the schedule again.” I realize I’m coming off like a stone-cold bitch, so I force a smile and add, “Please.”
