Grumpy Doctor

I hesitated, looking down at him. I knew this had been a possibility as well, but I hadn’t truly considered it until now. There was a part of me that thought practicing anywhere was better than practicing nowhere, but that had felt like letting Caroline and Gina win. Then again, they wanted to chase me out of medicine completely, and didn’t give a damn about me at all—finding a new job somewhere else, and thriving there, could be considered a type of revenge in itself.

“And you’d be willing to help?”

“I would, I would, for a small price.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to be in this man’s debt. I knew men like Rees, and knew that nothing came cheap. If I wanted his help finding a position at another hospital, he was going to bleed me dry first, and extract absolutely everything from me.

“What’s your price?”

He gave me a long, hard look, the sort of stare from a man appraising the quality of a new kitchen knife.

“Lori,” he said, speaking slowly. “She looks up to you. Thinks very highly of your skill.”

“She’s very talented herself,” I said, and I knew where this was going before he even took one step down that path. I hated that it’d come to this, and I hated myself even more for considering it.

But I knew I had no other choice.

“Do you know why I’m involved with her?”

I hesitated. I hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn. “I assume because she’s your cousin,” I said, though that couldn’t be it. She claimed they hadn’t been close.

“Did she tell you about her mother?”

I nodded slowly. “Died of cancer five years ago.”

“When that all happened, her mother knew it was coming, toward the end. My business was taking off, and things were looking good for me, and I think her mother saw that as an opportunity.” He leaned back and studied me with a carefully composed tilt to his head. “She requested that I look after her daughter. It was a deathbed sort of thing, and at the time I didn’t think much of it. But now, years later, I find myself wanting to keep the promise I made to her, and so I’ve steered Lori in my own way.”

“Why didn’t you tell her that?” I asked, feeling numb.

“I don’t want her to know,” he said. “Her mother asked me to keep it a secret, and I agreed. All that I’ve done so far has been in the spirit of that request, and what I’m about to ask you continues along that path. Do you understand?”

I took a breath and nodded.

“I think you should stay away from her,” Rees said.

There it was, spoken out loud, the thing I knew without a doubt, the thing I’d feared the most coming here.

Lori, it always came back to Lori.

My relationship with her was complicated, bordered on wrong, but it felt too good. There was a reason I hadn’t been able to set her aside, not completely, even though I was toxic, and every second we remained intertwined with each other, no matter how nebulously, was another minute she spent being spoiled and degraded in the eyes of those in power.

I couldn’t do that to her. I was tainted enough through no fault of my own—but I shouldn’t do the same to her.

“For her sake,” I said.

“She’ll do well in her current position, I believe. But if you’re around to distract her, I suspect there will be problems.”

“So you’ll find me a new job if I stop speaking to Lori.”

“You don’t have to ghost her. I’d prefer it if she didn’t get hurt,” he said, holding up a hand. “Find some way to distance yourself, though.”

“You want me to fade from her life,” I said, and stared down at him, feeling another surge of anger. He spoke of my relationship with Lori like it was something I could simply walk away from and let disappear into the ether.

Maybe it was that tenuous.

“Think of it this way, you’ll both win. Maybe Lori won’t like it at first, but it’ll be the best for you both, in the long run.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, looking away from him. I felt sick, like I was making a bargain that cost a portion of my soul.

And maybe I was. A Faustian bargain.

“Please do. Understand, I have her best interests at heart, and I can be a very powerful ally, if you’ll let me be.”

I said nothing else as I walked to his door. I felt him watching me with each step, considering me, weighing me. I turned back as I left and caught a strange look on his face—appraising, but also sad.

“Thank you for seeing me,” I said, and shut the door.

The old woman didn’t walk me back. I knew the way already. I saw a row of small statues on an end table in the entry hall, and paused to look at the words etched on their bases. Each was an award for philanthropy, given to Rees over the years.