Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“I’m not agreeing with him.”
His lips twitch with amusement. “But you do, Syd. I can see that clear as day. Don’t worry. You’ll be integrated soon enough into the workflow. I’m sure the lab can use a mind as brilliant as yours.”
I scoff. “Certainly doesn’t feel brilliant. I feel dumber by the day.”
“That will pass,” he says. “Once you’re in the lab, I’m sure you’ll come alive. You’ll see what we’re doing firsthand. The advancements we’ve made even over the last week will astound you. It won’t be long until…”
“Until what?”
He blinks, a somber look. “Until the next phase.” He swallows hard. “Well, I’ll be sure to give Clayton a talk.”
“No,” I say quickly, leaning forward in my chair. “No, please. It’s fine. I’m an adult. I can handle him.”
“He’s distracting you. But you’re right. I’m sorry. I can get…protective at times.”
I recall the way he held my face when I’d fallen, something like madness in his eyes.
“Anyway, I hope this talk has been helpful,” he says, moving in his chair like he’s about to get up.
“What? No. What about the wolf?”
He hesitates, then settles back down. “Ah. Yes. The wolf. Tell me about the wolf.”
I can’t help but glare at him. He’s being so dismissive, like it’s all in my head. So I tell him what happened, all the details, making sure I sound as measured and rational as I can.
“I know it’s not possible, but that’s what I saw.” I end my story, my tone firm.
“I see,” he says carefully, scribbling in his book again. “And what did the fruiting bodies look like?”
“I didn’t see any. It looked like it was just mycelia.”
“Looked like, but you can’t be sure?”
I let out a caustic laugh. “Sorry, I was too busy trying not to die to get a closer look.”
He stares at me patiently. I would kill to know what he’s thinking, what he’s written down in his notepad. I bet I wouldn’t like any of it.
“The forest can play tricks on us,” he finally says, and I grit my teeth in response because of course he’s going to say that. “You were obviously emotionally upset from your interaction with Clayton. You haven’t been eating right or sleeping right, and you haven’t taken your medication that keeps your emotions in check. I have no doubt you came across an injured and dying wolf. You probably surprised it, hence why it both attacked you and quickly ran away. We’ll send a drone out later to the area and see what we can find. If I had to guess, I’d say the wolf won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”
I can’t help but glare at him. “Fine,” I grumble, getting out of my chair.
He swiftly gets out of his and steps around the desk, reaching out and grabbing my arm before I have a chance to leave.
“Don’t make me worry about you,” he says, his voice gruff, his grip hard.
I glance at his hand, and he slowly removes it.
“Don’t make me worry either,” I tell him.
I leave.
CHAPTER 11
“Shirt of the day,” Munawar says as I approach the horde of students standing outside the lab building.
I glance at it. It says Morely Grey with a picture of a morel mushroom.
“Get it?” he asks. “Like morally grey characters.”
“Oh, I get it,” I tell him. “In fact, I might just steal it from you.”
“You can have it if you want,” he says, grabbing the hem and starting to lift it up, his round belly poking out.
“No, no,” I cry out, laughing.
“Munawar,” Lauren says with a grin. “Look at you, willing to give your shirt off your back.”
He shrugs, cheeks dimpled.
“Sorry I’m late,” a breathless voice says. Dr. Janet Wu appears from behind us with her key card in hand, her white lab coat flapping around her. “Had a minor emergency in the propagation lab.”
She’s petite, young, and pretty, with delicate bones and square glasses perched on the end of her nose, her long black hair glossy in the faint morning sunlight. She gives everyone an apologetic smile as she passes, though she visibly stiffens when she sees me.
I don’t blame her—I am a hot mess this morning.
I’m exhausted, as usual, despite eating my entire bowl of oatmeal at breakfast, my muscles feeling limp and sore, probably from the hike into the woods, not to mention a bruised ass and head from when I fell. Plus, the arm that got the shots won’t stop aching. I couldn’t sleep on the side I normally do.
I also wouldn’t be surprised if she heard on the grapevine about my encounter with the wolf. I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as doctor-patient confidentiality here. My rejection sensitivity dysphoria usually kicks into high gear because I have this ability to assume that everyone hates me deep down, but lately, I think I’m giving people reasons to look at me askew.