“Fuck the lawsuit,” Peggy stood up. “This is Nick’s mental health we’re talking about.”
I stood too, inhaling a deep breath. “I know what you’re saying, but this lawsuit could hurt his career. How do you think that would help his mental health? I’ll talk to him—”
“Yeah right. You’ll probably tell him to get his act together because he’s a liability.”
I wanted to tell her she was wrong, but with my legal hat on, she wasn’t. “I care about Nick too.”
“Not as much as you want to kiss the admins’ ass.” She headed to the door.
“Should I apologize for my job? If the admin comes down and wants to put this fiasco on you, should I let them do that to protect Nick?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying the admin is setting Nick up to take the fall?”
I hoped I didn’t wince outwardly. “I’m saying that just like you, when I’m working, I have to be professional.”
She studied me for a moment and then shook her head. “Forget I was here. If you tell anyone what I told you, I’ll deny it. I won’t let you use it against Nick.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“I don’t believe you. After all, you have to be professional. Your job requires you to protect the hospital.” She opened the door and walked out.
My legs felt wobbly as I sank to my chair. How could all this be going so wrong?
25
Nick
I hated the way Peggy looked at me. Like she thought I was one second away from a full mental breakdown. There were moments I wondered if maybe I wasn’t. So much so, that a few nights ago, I researched PTSD in doctors to see if Mia was right. I couldn’t deny that I had some of the symptoms. Guilt and feelings of inadequacy could be brushed off. Didn’t most people, doctors at least, feel that? But the dreams and the fear each time I went to meet a patient suggested something was up. Twice now, I’d had a moment in which I thought I saw Ms. Mason when I pulled back the curtain to see a patient. All this, of course, led to me feeling like I was weak, another apparent symptom of PTSD in doctors. Fuck, just what I needed.
I couldn’t get help for it without risking my career, but I knew I wouldn’t have gotten help even if I wasn’t being sued. I liked to think I was stronger than all that. Once this lawsuit was done and the protesters knew the truth, it would be over and I’d be able to go back to my old self. That was what I was banking on anyway.
The only time I didn’t feel the weight of the world on me was with Mia, but since our night at the river, I hadn’t seen her except in passing at the hospital. We couldn’t seem to help ourselves when we were alone together, so the answer was to not be alone.
I wondered if things would be different if being with me didn’t risk her job. Would she want to see where this thing between us could go? Or was it just old feelings resurfacing and lust?
I knew that for me, it was more than lust. Maybe it was old feelings, and a desire to rekindle the past, but it certainly felt real here and now. I wanted her and not just her body. She was smart and funny, and while I didn’t always like being called on my bullshit, I liked that she was real with me. She wouldn’t let me get away with anything.
Life continued on, except there were no more visits by Mia to my house. That meant I was on my own to find ways to deal with the dreams and guilt and anger. My solution was to focus on clearing my name and fixing my reputation. After work, I met my lawyer at a local restaurant. I hoped to hell she had something good to tell me.
I ignored the stares and whispers as I made my way to a table away from others. Not only did I want to avoid a public spectacle, but also, I didn’t need the town to hear my business. I’d have preferred to meet her at my place, but I was out of the way, and this restaurant offered her an easy in and out of town so she could get back home within a reasonable hour.
She walked in looking a bit out of place in her power skirt suit and long hair pulled into a fancy twist. A few men took notice, and eyebrows lifted when I stood, shook her hand, and held out her chair.
“I love Italian food,” she said.
“I was expecting you’d say something about it being quaint.” I took a seat across from her.
“It is,” she said looking around. “What they say about small towns is true. People are staring.”
I nodded. “Not very subtle, are they?”
“Does it bother you?”
“Not usually. About this case, yes.”
“Well, then let’s get to it.” She pulled out some papers from her large bag, while I ordered me a drink and her seltzer water.
“Tell me you have good news?” I said, drinking the water until my drink arrived.
“This is one of those situations in which it’s unclear what, if anything, could have been done differently and lead to another outcome. In some ways that’s good. There’s no glaring mistake.”
“I hear a but coming,” I said, leaning back to ready myself for bad news.
“There’s no obvious evidence to clear your name or the hospital’s, which is probably why they’ve got you on the back burner as the scapegoat.”
“Did they say that?”
“No, but I think you’re right to be concerned. There are some notes in your record indicating concerns about your mental status.”
“What?” My heart immediately jackhammered in my chest, although I didn’t know why I was surprised. Peggy had made
