Chapter 2 - THE FIRST RED FLAG
Leah called Nathan anyway.
That was still her instinct.
For eight years, whenever something frightened her, she called him.
He arrived twenty minutes later.
She showed him the behavioral flag.
“This is wrong.”
Nathan read it.
His expression was too calm.
“Maybe they’re being cautious.”
“Cautious about what?”
“You’ve been anxious.”
Leah stared at him.
“You knew.”
“What?”
“You knew they were putting this in my chart.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even look surprised.”
Nathan sighed.
“Leah, please don’t turn this into something.”
Her skin went cold.
Something.
That was how he described anything she noticed before he was ready to explain it.
She looked toward Simone’s bed.
Empty.
Simone had gone for monitoring.
Leah lowered her voice.
“Did your mother tell Dr. Rusk I’m unstable?”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Mom is worried about you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“She thinks postpartum depression could be a risk.”
“She is not my doctor.”
“Celia is.”
“Celia is your mother’s friend.”
Nathan stood.
“You always do this.”
Leah felt her heart accelerate.
“Do what?”
“Assume everyone is against you.”
For a second, she could not speak.
Then she pointed toward the chart.
“There is literally a document saying I require psychiatric clearance before taking my baby home.”
“Our baby.”
He corrected.
Leah looked at him.
Something about the correction felt wrong.
Not loving.
Possessive.
Nathan rubbed his face.
“I need some air.”
He walked out.
Leah stared at the door.
Five minutes later, Simone returned.
She looked at Leah once.
“What happened?”
“My husband thinks I’m overreacting.”
Simone gave a humorless smile.
“Men love that word.”
Leah frowned.
“You sound like you know him.”
Simone looked away.
Too quickly.
Leah noticed.
Before she could ask, Mae entered carrying medication.
She checked the label.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Leah asked.
Mae turned the vial toward the light.
“This isn’t yours.”
“What is it?”
“Sedative.”
Leah’s mouth went dry.
“I didn’t ask for a sedative.”
“I know.”
Mae checked the electronic order.
Her face hardened.
“Dr. Rusk ordered it.”
“When?”
“Seven minutes ago.”
Leah looked toward the hallway Nathan had just entered.
Mae lowered her voice.
“Did she examine you?”
“No.”
“Did she speak to you?”
“No.”
Mae removed the vial from the room.
“Don’t take anything unless I bring it personally.”
Leah stared at her.
“Mae.”
The nurse stopped.
“Am I in danger?”
Mae looked toward the door.
Then back at Leah.
May you like
“I don’t know yet.”
That answer frightened Leah more than a lie would have.
