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But even more than the way she felt or the way her eyes had sparked with heady desire, I found myself cravingher.Her wit, her sharp intelligence, and her obvious, natural ability to care about the people around her. Seeing her interact with my parents had only made that desire grow, and I’d really thought for a moment there…

I shook my head. I’d read her all wrong, apparently.

After gathering the supplies I would need for my routine visits with my patients, I fast-walked out of the office again, bypassing the curious but silent looks my co-workers were giving me.

The air outside wrapped around me in a claustrophobic blanket full of latent moisture and boiling heat. Like the burgeoning rainclouds overhead had trapped us in a steam pot, the humid air filled my lungs uncomfortably. I glanced up at the dark gray sky through the trees, and I wondered if this heatwave would finally break and ease us into September with a bit of cooler weather. I hoped so—I wore button-downs and chinos to work most days, and it was getting unbearable spending half the day feeling like I had a humidifier stuck under my shirt.

I passed a few pedestrians covered in the same sheen of sweat that I was, and then I tapped my watch to unlock and start my SUV. Technically, it was a company car, but seeing as I hada share in the urgent care practice, I had chosen the electric, luxury vehicle myself. Silver and sleek, it had all the upgrades that made my job that much easier. It also had plenty of room in the back for the equipment I took from house to house on my rounds.

I slid into the driver’s side, and I sighed in relief as the cooling function on the seat soothed some of the muggy heat that had enveloped my body. As I flicked on my blinker and put the car into drive, intending to pull out into the sparse traffic, I glimpsed Ruth’s small, leather backpack on the floor of the passenger’s side. I paused, foot on the brake. I really needed to return it to her, even if she had decided she didn’t want to see me. Or talk to me. Or, apparently, acknowledge that I existed. I wasn’t sure what had gone wrong on our fake-date-turned-real-make-out, and I had even less of an idea what to do about it.

In the past, when I’d dated a woman or hooked up with an interested partner, if things seemed like they weren’t going well, we usually found a fairly smooth way to end things. I couldn’t remember going on a date and having her just leave so abruptly. I knew that Ruth had seemed terrified and upset, and I’d picked up on the fact that kissing me had triggered it. I didn’t want to make her life more difficult, but was ignoring her really the best option?

It couldn’t be. I wasn’t going to go into stalker mode, but I could return her purse to her workplace at the very least. That decided, I put the car back into park, punched the ignition off,and stooped down to swipe up the small, black knapsack. It was a short walk to her building from mine, so I hauled myself back out into the summer day.

It was like walking through a steamed dumpling. By the time I made it to the four-story corporate building made up of separate suites, my gray shirt had stuck to my back, and I had to swipe sweat away from my neck and forehead.

I rode the elevator to the third floor, which was thankfully air-conditioned, and when it dinged, the doors slid open to reveal the waterfall wall with the Kiss-Met logo backlit at its center. The receptionist’s desk was off to the left, curving around in a sleek, white C shape. The receptionist, a young blond woman with eyes that were a little too big for her face, stood up as I approached. “Good afternoon, Dr. Reed. Welcome back. How can we help you?”

I managed to remember just in the nick of time that I was supposed to be Ruth’s husband. “Ruth left this in my car,” I said, holding it up. “I thought she might need it today.”

The receptionist, whose nameplate read, “Olivia,” blinked at me with confused, round eyes. “Oh, didn’t she call in sick today?”

A stab of worry sliced through my chest. “She did?” I hesitated, thinking fast on the spot. “Oh, I left before her this morning. She said she hadn’t been feeling well, but I didn’t know she’d called off.”

“Yeah,” Olivia glanced down at a notepad by her mouse. “She said she has a fever and didn’t want us to catch it.”

“Right,” I nodded slowly. I lowered my arm. “Well, I’ll… take this home to her, then.”

The receptionist smiled. “Anything else we can do for you, Dr. Reed?”

“No,” I waved, turning to go and tossing concerned thoughts around in my head. “Thank you for your help.” Ruth was sick? For how long? Had she seen a doctor already? Surely, Rook wouldn’t have seen her for a common virus. But she’d said she used him as a PCP.

Knowing full well it bordered on a HIPAA violation, I pulled out my phone, scrolled through my contacts, and pulled up Rook’s practice on my phone. As the elevator hummed down to the second floor, his receptionist answered. “Sphere of Life Women’s Services, this is Becky, how can I help you?”

“Hey Becky, it’s Dr. Reed. Is Rook with a patient right now?” I tapped my foot impatiently as the elevator passed down another floor.

“No, he’s working on patient records at the moment. Should I tell him you—”

“Thanks, I’ll find him in his office.” I hung up, and as the elevator doors opened to Rook’s practice on the second floor—was it a coincidence that he worked in the same building she did?—I headed for the glass door with frosted letters that proclaimed “Sphere of Life Women’s Services.” When I entered the small, corporate-style waiting room with gray padded chairs, nondescript art on the walls, and flat carpet, Becky looked up from the desk that had been separated from the room with a glass panel.

“Oh, Dr. Reed. You’re already here.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I waved, smiling. “I’m just here to see Dr. Rook. I won’t be long.” Rook and I rarely interacted anymore—we’d gone to med school together, and we had both finished our residencies at the same hospital in Portland, but I didn’t like the guy. Unfortunately, our mothers were friends, so that tie remained. At the moment, I was a little grateful for the connection because I had a sinking feeling in my gut that something was off with Ruth.

I went through the door that connected the waiting room to the exam rooms in the back, and already knowing my way around the small practice, I hung a left past a nurses’ station and went down the side hallway that led to Rook’s office.

I found him standing at his desk, which was one of those ergonomic… something-or-other desks that people who hated resting stood at all day. He had a silver clump of tiny, magnetic spheres that he almost always held in his left hand to play with while he thought, and his right hand hovered over the trackpad of his laptop. He looked up, eyes frosted blue and devoid of life… like his fucking soul, I imagined. Why any woman would trust this guy with any part of her body was beyond me.

“Reed,” he said, and one dark blond eyebrow quirked up with interest. Rook had light blond hair that he combed neatly to the side, not a lock out of place and not any room for disorder. Again—like himself. He always wore the same thing, too: a white dress shirt, black slacks, and his white coat. He’d dressed like that every day since residency, and I genuinely assumed hewore it on the weekends, too… assuming he didn’t just go into cryogenic sleep for two days to recharge. “It’s been a while.”

“It has, and sorry to bother you, but I need to know if you’ve seen a patient of yours recently.”

Dr. Rook twirled the magnetic fidget in his left hand, thinking. “I can’t recall any patients of mine who signed release forms to your practice.”

“She didn’t, but we’re fudging things. Did Ruth Coldwell come to see you this week? I’m worried she might be sick.” I leaned my back against his open door and folded my arms.

Rook’s expression remained smooth, but he hooked me with a direct stare. “That’s a HIPAA violation, and you know it.”