Chapter 8
“We can’t keep meeting like this,” I say to Edmund, who is, once again, sprawled out on the grass outside the big top. This time, however, it’s not a head injury. He’s got a bad sprain.
He chuckles and pushes himself up on his elbows. “What can I say, I’m just trying to get more time with ya.”
Trevor snorts from where he’s leaning over his bike and elbows the Hispanic man standing beside him. “You buy that, Enrique?”
The other Alpha runs his fingers through his long, dark hair. “Not even a little. I think our stagehand has a crush on the pretty Omega doctor.”
Edmund flushes pink and shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not it at all! I’m just clumsy.”
I pat his knee gently and begin wrapping his ankle in a tight bandage. “Lucky for you, it’s not a bad sprain. Stay off it for about a week, and you should be right as rain.”
He groans, throwing his head back dramatically. He’s cute, a little young, maybe nineteen or twenty, and has strawberry blond hair that he’s constantly blowing out of his eyes. “Who’s gonna do my job, then? I can’t be out of work for a week. We gotta pack up soon.”
I shrug, sitting back on my heels. “Honestly? Not my problem to solve. What is it they say, not my circus, not my monkeys?” I laugh at my own joke as Edmund rolls his eyes at my bad joke.
“I just mean to say that Jude needs to have contingencies in place for injuries. There’s gotta be a job you can switch with someone for the week. ”
“What about lighting?” Enrique throws out, his soft accent making every word he says sensual. “We could get him to switch with Chet.”
Trevor snaps his fingers. “Brilliant idea. Doc, call bossman and run it by him.”
“No need,” the deep voice behind me says. “Willard called me when he saw Edmund sprawled out.” The showrunner pins me with a glare, but it lacks much of its normal intensity. “Why aren’t you calling me when these injuries come in?”
I huff, placing my fists on my hips. “Because my job is to treat injuries. I would’ve called you once treatment was done, even though I don’t like doing that.”
“The guys all signed HIPAA waivers,” he reminds me. “I have access to their medical records when collected by the circus physician.”
I wave him off as I clamor to my feet. I reach a hand down for Edmund and hoist him up, wrapping my arm around his waist. Enrique and Trevor dart over and take him from me before I even have the chance to wobble.
“Regardless. Edmund needs a week of light duty. Enrique suggested he swap with one of the lighting guys.”
Jude rubs his chin before nodding tightly. “That’s a good idea.” He moves to Edmund’s side, tapping Enrique on the arm and taking over to support him. “Run and go get Chet. ”
The Alpha nods at his boss and strides away.
“I’m fine, really,” Edmund is saying. “I don’t need light duty. People walk off sprains all the time.” I’m about to interrupt and scold him for his decision when he tries to put weight on his injured foot and immediately crumples, Trevor and Jude the only things keeping him upright.
“I pay the doctor to take care of you, don’t make her job harder,” Jude grumbles.
It’s only a few minutes before Enrique is back with an Alpha trailing after him. The other Alpha, Chet, is bulky and has a sour look on his face. When he sees me, his lip curls slightly.
“Chet,” Jude says in a no-nonsense tone. “You’re a stagehand this week. Edmund needs to stay off his feet, so he’s doing lighting.”
Chet starts to sputter. “What? No! I worked my way up to lighting. I’m not going back to a grunt job.”
Jude levels him with a glare that I would hate to be on the receiving end of. “Yes, you are. I can’t be down a stagehand. Edmund needs to recover if he’s going to be useful. Doctor’s orders.”
The Alpha swings his head to glare at me. “I don’t thin-”
Jude cuts him off. “I don’t pay you to think. This conversation is over. Let’s go, Trevor.” He and Trevor wobble off, dragging an apologetic Edmund behind them. Enrique gives me a small wave and trails after them. When they’re out of earshot, the Alpha takes several steps toward me.
“You must think you’re special,” he hisses, “being an Omega around a bunch of Alphas. But I’m not going to be one of these assholes falling all over themselves to impress you.”
An exaggerated yawn cracks my face open. “Sure thing, big guy,” I mutter, taking a few steps away so I can head back to my trailer. A large hand wraps around my forearm and halts me.
Memories assault me, and I have to swallow down a whine.
I’m not there. He’s not them.
“I’m not done talking to you,” he snaps.
“Yes you fucking are,” a voice snaps from behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see the brightly tattooed Dario striding toward us. “Drop the pretty doctor and move on, Chet.”
Chet immediately lets me go and takes a step back, holding out his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says, his voice surprisingly apologetic.
Dario rolls his eyes and steps between me and the other Alpha. “I’m sure you didn’t. Head on out.”
“Sorry, Doc. I know you’re not who I should take my anger out on,” he says.
I nod. “It’s fine.”
It’s not fine.
But he seems apologetic, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt that he’s just upset that he’s gotten a demotion.
Dario grins at me. “Hellooooooo Doc,” he says, in an exaggerated, cartoon manner. “Who got hurt today?”
I roll my eyes. “Just because Jude gets access to all of your records doesn’t mean I’m going to disclose patient information. You can ask around, I’m sure the gossip mill is already running.”
Heaving my bag over my shoulder, I nod at him. “Thanks for the intervention, but I had the situation under control.”
He shrugs and trots after me. “Ah, but there shouldn’t have been a situation for you to control,” he reminds me.
“ I’m happy to play the role of bodyguard if you need me to.
” He flexes his arms, and I can’t look away as the gray shirt slides up his biceps.
He’s trim, but there is so much lean strength throughout his body from his acrobatic routine.
I stop at the stairs to my trailer, smiling over my shoulder. “You’re not exactly the scary twin.”
He grasps his chest and stumbles backwards. “Ouch, at least kiss the brick before you hurl it at me! What makes Dexter scarier than me?”
“Never met a man who can glower like that before.” I give him a little finger wave. “Anyways, I’m going to go into my trailer now. Nice seeing you, Dario.”
He waves animatedly at me, his face stretched into a broad smile. “You can see me as much as you want, Doc! I’m happy to fill your vision.”
My nose wrinkles at the weird offer as I head into my trailer.
Dario Reynolds is certainly not a bad thing to look at. He’s like a work of art, with tattoos that look like they belong in a comic book brightening his light olive skin.
But I can’t think about an Alpha like that. I’m here for a job. Nothing more.
My phone rings violently on the counter as I’m preparing a modest dinner in my trailer. I’m still a little salty that Quinton and Matteo stocked me up with so many groceries, but I can’t deny that I’m glad to have them.
I snatch the phone and wedge it between my shoulder and ear as I chop up some cucumber. “This is Alex,” I say into the receiver.
“Doc, I need you in the dress tent,” comes Jude’s tight voice through the tinny speaker. “I’ve got someone who needs stitches.”
I sigh and drop my knife. “Damn, no wonder you needed an on staff doctor. You’ve hired some clumsy carnies.”
“We’re not carnies,” he snaps at me. “Just get over here.”
“On my way, boss,” I say, rolling my eyes and hanging up. I stare longingly at the ingredients for the sushi bowl I was preparing before shoving them into my small fridge. “I’ll have dinner later, I guess.”
I snag my bag, making sure my suture kit is inside, and make the short trek to the dress tent.
Inside, Jude is sitting next to an Alpha with a cleanly trimmed beard and dark eyes.
He’s clutching a cloth around his arm and saying something in low whispers to Jude.
The Alpha is around my age, but I can’t remember what his role here is.
There’s got to be over fifty employees here.
It’s going to take a while to learn who they all are.
Jude spots me and waves me over.
“Alex, this is Brian. He cut up his forearm.” The other Alpha moves to speak again, and Jude cuts him off. “He definitely needs stitches.”
I nod and crouch down in front of Brian, who visibly shrinks back from me. “Hi, Brian. I’m Dr. Alex. Do you mind if I take a look at your arm?”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t,” he says timidly.
“I told you I don’t give a shit about that,” Jude barks. “Just let her take care of you.”
I shoot Jude a glare and shush him before turning back to Brian. “Is there any reason why you don’t want me to treat you?”
“I mean no offense, Doctor,” he says softly, “I’m sure you’re quite qualified. But I cannot be touched by an unmated Omega.”
My mind lights up in recognition. As one of the few Omega doctors, I’ve only encountered this situation a couple of times, but I’ve learned how to handle it effectively. “Ah, okay. That’s alright, I’ve met a few people of your religion before. You’re a Paragon, right?”
He nods, eyes brightening with approval at my recognition.
The Paragons of God, or Paragons, are an older religious group that adheres to strict boundaries between Alphas and Omegas.
From what I know, it’s not from a place of superiority, but of respect and reverence.
As much as an Omega shouldn’t be touched by an Alpha other than their mate, an Alpha should not touch or be touched either.
They hold equal responsibility to uphold their virtue.
“Unfortunately,” I continue, “it’s always been in a situation where I could grab a Beta or Alpha doctor. I’m concerned you won’t heal if you really do need stitches.” He winces, and I can see the turmoil in his eyes.