“Perfect.” I tuck the chart under my arm and extend a hand to shake hers. “So, we have some blockage going on, is that right?”

She nods, pulling her shawl tighter as her lips purse. “That’s what they tell me.”

I pull the clipboard back out, flipping through her notes. “It says your EKG came back abnormal.” I go for reassurance. “Nothing too out of the ordinary. I can definitely get you fixed up.”

She adjusts her glasses, looking me up and down. “You don’t look any older than my son.”

“Ah.” My smile is tighter now. This part I’m used to, mostly. “I get that a lot. I promise, I’ve done this a thousand times. You have nothing to worry about.”

“What exactly are we looking to do here?”

“Well,” I start, “we’re going to take you to do a heart cath and inject a dye to take a look at what’s going on. Almost like an X-ray, but for your vessels. It will give me a better idea of the severity of the blockage so I can assess if we need to place some stents to help with the blood flow to your heart.”

“I’ll be knocked out for this, won’t I?”

“Of course,” I assure her. “You won’t feel a thing. If the blockage is severe enough, we’ll place stents to open the vessels back up so we can flush it out and get the blood flowing normally again. Just think of it like a mechanic doing an oil change.”

She laughs at that. “That sounds a little less nerve-racking.”

“You’re going to be fine,” I promise. “You’re in good hands.”

“That’s what they tell me,” she says again.

I check her notes again. “So, if you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them. For today, I’m going to send you to the lab first for some blood tests, and pending those we’ll schedule an angiogram—that’s a scan that’s going to give us a better look at the blockage—and then when that’s all done we can go ahead and schedule your—”

I hear a light knock behind me, interrupting my spiel, and I try not to show my irritation when I turn to see who’s decided to barge in.

Dennis’s gray hair appears around the doorframe, his sanguine smile only worsening my impatience.

“Hey, there, Mrs. P,” he calls sweetly as he steps into the room. “I happened to be passing by and thought I’d check on you.”

Mrs. Pereira looks brighter than she did a moment ago. “Dr. Martin! It’s good to see you.”

“I hope Dr. Taylor is treating you well,” Dennis says with a teasing edge to his voice that grates my nerves. “He can be a bit of a grouch sometimes.”

“Oh no, no,” she laughs. “He’s treating me just fine.”

“We were just discussing scheduling, Dr. Martin,” I tell him flatly. “So . . .”

“Always straight to business, this one,” Dennis laughs, clapping me on the shoulder. For some reason I feel like breaking his hand. “He doesn’t like to chitchat like us old folks.”

“I couldn’t believe how young he is,” Mrs. Pereira admits. “When you told me I’d be seeing the head of the department, I imagined someone our age!”

“Well.” Dennis shrugs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his white coat. “We try not to hold his years against him. He does just fine for a young pup.”

I have to grind my teeth to keep from saying something I’ll regret. Our mutual patient might not realize Dennis is being condescending, but I sure as hell do. It’s something I’m more than used to—but for some reason, I’m finding it a lot harder to let it roll off my back today.

“Dr. Martin,” I say tightly, gesturing toward the door. “I actually had a question for you, do you mind?”

“Of course, of course,” Dennis says with that same infuriating grin. “It was good to see you, Mrs. Pereira. Don’t let Dr. Taylor here give you a hard time.”

Mrs. Pereira laughs. “He’ll do all right.”

I’m already stepping into the hall to leave them behind me, feeling my blood pulsing in my ears. I clench my fists at my sides while I wait for Dennis to join me, making sure he’s closed the door behind him before I address him.

Dennis looks innocent when he steps outside, leaning against the wall by the door. “What’s up, Noah?”

“What the hell are you trying to pull in there?”

He cocks his head, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t give me that shit,” I huff. “Some people might not be able to see through your slimy condescension, but I do.”

“Wow. Someone’s in a mood today.” He looks at me like I’m being ridiculous. “I was just saying hi to a patient. No need to get all worked up.”

“Just keep your fake nice to yourself,” I warn him. “I’ve had about as much as I can take.”

To my surprise, Dennis smiles. It’s almost . . . gleeful. Like I’ve just given him good news. It makes me absolutely livid.

“I guess this is that famous temper we hear about.” His smile widens, and he stuffs his hands back into his pockets, pushing off the wall as he looks me up and down. “Guess you really are an alpha after all, huh?”

He leaves me stunned and fuming, torn between wanting to throw a chair or a punch—I can’t decide. It takes me a good minute to collect myself, unable to really calm myself back down until his footsteps have faded away, and when I’m alone again I can’t help but wonder what the hell is wrong with me.

I don’t do this. I don’t let dumb fucks like Dennis get under my skin like this. And despite the stories about making nurses cry, I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever berated a coworker openly like I just did. It seems that with every passing day sans suppressants—I am becoming less and less like myself. It has me wondering if this charade I’m clinging to so tightly is worth the insanity it’s driving me to.

Guess you really are an alpha after all, huh?

I push Dennis’s snide voice from my mind, taking a deep breath to collect myself as I remember I still have a job to do. This mess is something I can handle later, I think.

Hopefully.

The encounter with Dennis follows me for the next few hours while I see two more consults, and even now at lunchtime, there’s a sense of unease on my skin that feels almost like an itch I can’t reach. Granted, Dennis and I have never been and most likely will never be anything remotely close to friends, but at least until today I’ve been able to successfully remain professional with him despite all his thinly veiled barbs. Everything about the confrontation has me slightly worried that at this rate, I am going to get myself fired for the exact sort of behavior I am trying to prove isn’t actually something to worry about.

I’m telling myself that it’s a perfectly normal thing, me going down to her floor. We’re supposed to be mates, after all, right? Surely it can only bolster our facade, me checking in on her. Not that any of these justifications offer any enlightenment as to what reason I will give Mackenzie in regard to me coming down to the ER floor—a place I’ve visited more in the last two weeks than I have in two months. I have no good reason to be here, but with each passing hour since this morning, I find myself plagued with an increasingly pressing urge just to see her. Something I’ve been trying to justify in my head as a polite check-in on her state of being after everything that happened last night.

I’ve noticed at least three nurses and two physicians turning their heads to watch me pass as I move through the hallways down here, each of them staring at the side of my head like I’m some sort of alien visitor they can’t make heads or tails of. It’s making me wonder if there was actually something to all that “Boogeyman of Denver General” ridiculousness everyone has been talking about.

I’ve been wandering around for five minutes after stepping off the elevator, but I finally hear a familiar laugh down the hall and around the corner, and just the sound of it has some tension in my shoulders unwinding, which I hadn’t even fully realized had been there until this very moment. I notice my step quickening as my body seems to attempt to close the space between us more quickly, as if my body has a mind of its own, and it is only seconds later that I see a soft, sandy ponytail tilted back with her laughter as she reaches to push at someone’s shoulder, almost like she’s just been told a joke.