Chapter One
Max Peterson stumbled up to the front steps of his second story condo. The welcome mat below his muddy sneakers read The Doctor Is In . When he’d found it, the green lettering on the tan background had made him smile. Today though, getting off a two-day rotation and too exhausted to remember the last thing he’d forced himself to eat, he could have done without the cheeriness of it all.
He forced his hands to move, his fingers to find and then twist his key into the lock. His feet came next as the door opened wide. They were reluctant to move and felt too heavy to lift. Still, being inside was better than standing out on the landing between his condo and the one across from it. The elderly couple across from him might begin to wonder about him if they happened to see him like this.
If they didn’t already.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Leaning back against the cool wood, he allowed his eyes to close. Just one moment, just a little—
No, no, he wasn’t going there. A little girl’s face washed in front of his eyes and his vision blurred as bile shot back up into his throat. He sucked in deep gulps of air, desperate to get this thing under control. He’d lost people on the table before this. Hell, he was the head of surgery at a major metropolitan hospital in the area. No one got that position without thousands of surgeries under their belt. And statistics showed that once in awhile people were going to die.
But statistics weren’t seven year old girls with bright blue eyes and a body broken from years of abuse. At least, they weren’t supposed to be.
“Sit down.”
Max looked around, startled, until his roommate, Simon Baker, stepped out of the kitchen and sat down in their small living room. Max swallowed thickly, the sight of Simon in little more than a pair of shorts doing strange things to his stomach. He shook his head and moved toward his bedroom. He couldn’t deal with this right now. Simon was hot, powerful. He reminded Max of a thunderstorm. What Max needed was a cup of hot jasmine tea or, if he couldn’t get that, at least a few good hours of sleep in his bed. He didn’t have to be at the hospital tomorrow, a rare occurrence when he worked at least fifty hours a week.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Simon,” he called, giving his roommate a little wave and kicking off his shoes near the door. They had a mat for their boots and such, Simon’s idea. Max would deal with it in the morning. When it was light out. Or when he could string together a coherent thought that didn’t feel more like suffocating under a pillow than actual words.
“I believe I told you to sit, Maxwell,” Simon’s voice, darkly pleasurable, rumbled through the apartment. Max shivered, knowing the reaction to Simon’s voice was involuntary but still wishing it didn’t happen anyway.
He shook his head, trying to force himself to move toward his bedroom. To open the door that stood between him and the comfortable bed he’d just treated himself with. He could almost feel the down comforter wrapping around him, hugging his body as he slipped into what would hopefully be a dreamless night’s sleep. He didn’t need to be reminded of things best left forgotten when he closed his eyes as well. It was bad enough seeing their faces when he was awake.
But part of him was curious. Simon wasn’t one to speak to him often. He was a good roommate, quiet and clean. Much more so than Max was. And he wasn’t rude, he didn’t have parties and he’d never even brought a friend over in the year and a half that they’d been living together. But still, there was so much more to Simon that Max wished he knew. He was a question that Max’s insatiable curiosity hadn’t been able to figure out. And that had never sat all that well with him.
Max found himself walking toward the sound of Simon’s voice. Knowing where he’d be sitting even before he found him in the big leather chair he’d brought
Max Peterson stumbled up to the front steps of his second story condo. The welcome mat below his muddy sneakers read The Doctor Is In . When he’d found it, the green lettering on the tan background had made him smile. Today though, getting off a two-day rotation and too exhausted to remember the last thing he’d forced himself to eat, he could have done without the cheeriness of it all.
He forced his hands to move, his fingers to find and then twist his key into the lock. His feet came next as the door opened wide. They were reluctant to move and felt too heavy to lift. Still, being inside was better than standing out on the landing between his condo and the one across from it. The elderly couple across from him might begin to wonder about him if they happened to see him like this.
If they didn’t already.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Leaning back against the cool wood, he allowed his eyes to close. Just one moment, just a little—
No, no, he wasn’t going there. A little girl’s face washed in front of his eyes and his vision blurred as bile shot back up into his throat. He sucked in deep gulps of air, desperate to get this thing under control. He’d lost people on the table before this. Hell, he was the head of surgery at a major metropolitan hospital in the area. No one got that position without thousands of surgeries under their belt. And statistics showed that once in awhile people were going to die.
But statistics weren’t seven year old girls with bright blue eyes and a body broken from years of abuse. At least, they weren’t supposed to be.
“Sit down.”
Max looked around, startled, until his roommate, Simon Baker, stepped out of the kitchen and sat down in their small living room. Max swallowed thickly, the sight of Simon in little more than a pair of shorts doing strange things to his stomach. He shook his head and moved toward his bedroom. He couldn’t deal with this right now. Simon was hot, powerful. He reminded Max of a thunderstorm. What Max needed was a cup of hot jasmine tea or, if he couldn’t get that, at least a few good hours of sleep in his bed. He didn’t have to be at the hospital tomorrow, a rare occurrence when he worked at least fifty hours a week.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Simon,” he called, giving his roommate a little wave and kicking off his shoes near the door. They had a mat for their boots and such, Simon’s idea. Max would deal with it in the morning. When it was light out. Or when he could string together a coherent thought that didn’t feel more like suffocating under a pillow than actual words.
“I believe I told you to sit, Maxwell,” Simon’s voice, darkly pleasurable, rumbled through the apartment. Max shivered, knowing the reaction to Simon’s voice was involuntary but still wishing it didn’t happen anyway.
He shook his head, trying to force himself to move toward his bedroom. To open the door that stood between him and the comfortable bed he’d just treated himself with. He could almost feel the down comforter wrapping around him, hugging his body as he slipped into what would hopefully be a dreamless night’s sleep. He didn’t need to be reminded of things best left forgotten when he closed his eyes as well. It was bad enough seeing their faces when he was awake.
But part of him was curious. Simon wasn’t one to speak to him often. He was a good roommate, quiet and clean. Much more so than Max was. And he wasn’t rude, he didn’t have parties and he’d never even brought a friend over in the year and a half that they’d been living together. But still, there was so much more to Simon that Max wished he knew. He was a question that Max’s insatiable curiosity hadn’t been able to figure out. And that had never sat all that well with him.
Max found himself walking toward the sound of Simon’s voice. Knowing where he’d be sitting even before he found him in the big leather chair he’d brought
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