AUGUST 12, 2024

Natalie

As soon as I reach home, I head straight to the office room, grab my laptop, and settle onto the sofa. I flip it open, and my fingers fly over the keyboard faster than my thoughts. This email had consumed me all the way home – every word, every point had to be written before I forgot anything.

Hi Gerald,

I’m writing this instead of calling because I need a record of our communication. I have repeatedly reported Jaime’s errors and how her actions compromise patient safety, yet nothing seems to change. Now there’s another incident – 1 mg of hydromorphone is missing from Owen Johnson’s narcotic card. It’s unclear whether Jaime administered an extra dose or if she helped herself to it. This is happening too often, and it is high time that action is taken. This situation is unacceptable. If it continues, I will have no choice but to escalate the matter to the College of Nurses and the Ministry. I trust you will take the necessary steps to protect our residents before it comes to that. Thank you.

Natalie Scott

I press send and fall back into the couch with a heavy sigh. That’s it. Everything is now out in the open. There’s no undoing it, and I don’t want to. Gerald needs to understand the seriousness of this, see the threat, and finally take action.

I open my Sent folder to re-read the email, a brief sense of satisfaction settling in my chest. Then I hear the familiar creak of the stairs. Moments later, Mason appears, broad-shouldered and in nothing but his boxers. I quickly snap the laptop shut and set it aside as he walks over. He leans down and kisses my forehead before sinking onto the sofa beside me. I’m irresistibly drawn in by his warmth and the faint aroma of sandalwood from the body lotion he always applies at night. I curl against his chest, still in my scrubs, as his arms wrap around me effortlessly.

“What are you doing with your laptop so early? Another complaint?” he teases, his voice low and playful.

“Work stuff,” I reply with a small, forced smile.

“Really?” he gasps dramatically. “I told you to leave that poor Jaime alone,” he adds, his hand drifting over my thigh.

I pull his hand away and straighten up against his chest, looking at him. “How do you know it’s about Jaime?”

“As far as I know, you enjoy making Jaime’s life miserable; sometimes even mine,” he jokes, playfully returning his hand to my thigh.​

“I’m not a jerk,” I snap, irked by his remark. ​He and Bethany always side with Jaime, and it drives me crazy.

“The first thing you do when you get home from work is take a bath. Look at you now, sitting in your scrubs in the office with your laptop. Where’s your OCD now?” he teases, half-seriously.

His teasing only makes me angrier, and I try to move away, but he quickly pulls me back. “I’m kidding,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my forehead.

I relax, snuggling back into him like a contented cat. His grip tightens around me, and I can feel his heart beating rapidly against my ear. We chat about everything and nothing, and normally, that would be the best part of my day. But today I can’t focus because my mind keeps going back to that email. Did I finally do enough to get Gerald to act, or will I have to write another email about a new incident soon?