If Cain Were Able

1. Cain

Cain

Everyone says I have a god complex.

Of course, I do.

If you held people’s literal lives in your hands every day, you would feel like God, too.

I studied medicine for years, sat through grueling lectures, and spent hours in the presence of physicians who taught me that anything less than perfection isn’t good enough. That mentality resonated deeply within me, and I apply it to every aspect of my life.

But it didn’t start in residency or even in medical school.

I blame it on my parents… doesn’t everyone?

Naming your child after the world’s first murderer is a bold move, and while I spend my time trying to save lives instead of taking them, I value power above all else. I think my namesake and I have that in common.

“Dr. Rosemont?”

I cut my eyes to my nurse. If I didn’t answer the first time, then clearly, I’m busy, I think to myself, as I look the man in the eye. My entire team is made up of men. My PA, my medical assistant, and my nurse. All men.

Not because I don’t think women can do the job, of course they can…

but most have egos too fragile for my personality.

The hospital system I work for got tired of having to train new staff every six months, and they gave up on reprimanding me.

The sad truth is that when you make the hospital as much money as I do, they’re much more eager to keep you happy, and I have a waiting list ten months long for patients who come from all over the world to see me.

“What do you need, Perry?”

“Your next patient is in room four.”

“I’m well aware,” I snap.

He looks at his watch. “His appointment was fifteen minutes ago, and you’re getting farther behind the longer you sit there.” Perry has balls, I’ll give him that. It’s one of the things I like about him, but I’ll never let him know it.

“And your Christmas bonus is getting smaller the longer you stand there.”

Perry snorts. “It’s hard to shrink zero,” he says before drumming a quick double tap on my doorframe and walking away.

I’d love to put Perry on his fucking knees and teach him a lesson, but that’s a hard no, thanks to two of my three concrete, non-negotiable rules.

One: don’t waste time on straight guys. Two: never fuck coworkers because it’s too messy.

And three: never, ever, fuck patients because no person in the world is worth sacrificing my medical license and reputation for.

Sighing, I stand from my desk chair.

It has to be a coincidence, right? Surely, it’s a common name.

Adjusting my suit coat, I loop my stethoscope around my neck and make my way down the hall to see my next patient.

I know it won’t be him, but just seeing his name again has my heart racing. Although not my first love—because I’ve never been in love—Patrick Miller was my favorite toy for two years in college, until he called me a toxic piece of shit and walked out of my life.

And while he wasn’t wrong, he conveniently overlooked the fact that he fed my toxicity like gasoline fuels a fire. His need for my approval helped make me the way I am.

I haven’t thought about him in years, but now his name is right in front of my face. When I open this door and find that it’s a different Patrick Miller, I can’t decide whether I’m going to be disappointed or relieved.

Except when I turn the knob and enter the exam room…

It’s him.

And based on his look of pain, he was clearly hoping I was a different Cain Rosemont.