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“Ha… Not yet. Ask me again at lunch though.” I put my arms out.

“I’m late. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Who exactly am I telling?” He ran the wand down one side of me and up the other before handing me a lifeline,

“Doc’s not in today.”

I stopped with my arms still out.

“He’s not?” I asked, needing to be sure, as the last thing I needed was to deal with explaining myself to Dr. Sitsalot.

“Nope, called it in an hour ago.” Mick didn’t look up from the wand, but there was something judgmental in his voice. Which surprised me, since Halloran wasn’t exactly well liked, and it had taken me less than a week to work that out.

“You’ll have somebody on call. County always keeps a man on the phone for us, so not to worry, just pray for a slow day,” he said lightheartedly and I had to stop myself scoffing aloud at the reply I wanted to give. Because I didn’t think God had much to do with this place, no matter how nicely I asked.

I picked my bag up off the belt and I did my very best cheerful face, because it felt like the only armor I had left. And I would need it sooner than I thought.

The infirmary door was shut when I got there, which was normal and the corridor outside it was empty, which meant nobody was waiting to be seen. Something I was so grateful for that I could have wept. Twenty minutes late and not one soul sitting on the bench to notice it. Fabulous, maybe this would be a good day after all.

I pushed the door open and walked into my own treatment room without a single thought in my head beyond how lucky I had just been.

That was until I heard someone clear their throat and my head snapped up. And just like that my hopes for a good day didn’t just vanish… they were obliterated.

He was already there.

The Ghost.

Chained to the bed and sitting up against the raised head of it. He had his legs out in front of him, filling the cot the way a grown man fills a child’s chair. At least there were chains at both wrists, running down through the frame, although like last time, they looked far too long for my liking.

He watched me enter and a smirk played at his lips, making me shiver and instantly putting me on edge.

“You’re late,” he said, as if making him wait had been some grave insult or a crime against him. Of course, I would like to think that in another life there was a version of me who would have said something cool and dismissive before leaving to get on with her day.

However, I was not her.

I was me.

And in this version of my reality, I made a noise like a stepped-on cat and went backward into the door hard enough to rattle it in the frame.

Oh, and he watched me do it, damn him. Not the way a patient watches a nurse. The way something on four legs watches a thing it has already decided it can catch and make a meal out of.

“What,” he said. “Not expecting me?”

I got a hand behind me and found the door handle, and I held onto it, and I breathed. It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. He is chained to that bed and he cannot reach you. I told myself this like my new mantra before letting go of the handle. Then I put my professional veil back into place, telling myself I could do this as I set my bag down on the chair by the wall. Just like a woman who did that every morning.

Because I did. Because it was my room and I was in control here. Of course, one look at him and that was almost laughable. But despite what he did to me and my composure, I wouldn’t let him win. So, I cleared my throat and said,

“Good morning,” surprising myself when it came out almost sounding normal.

“What is it today?”

He looked down at his right forearm, where the dressing I had put on it two days ago sat clean, white and entirely undisturbed, as if nothing had touched it at all.

“I think it needs looking at,” he said. “There may be an infection setting in.” I frowned at this, because a two-day check was reasonable enough. It was the infection part that was the lie. I had closed that wound myself and I had done a decent job of it, and the dressing over it was clean, dry and exactly where I had left it. Both of us knew that, but only one of us was going to be able to say it out loud. But first, I would have to get close enough to prove it.

“Right.” My tone must have said it all and he tilted his head slightly and smirked.

“You seem doubtful, little nurse.”