Page 75 of Clinically Awkward

“Emotional backup,” Nathan added.

“Witnessing history,” Hayden said dryly.

I wanted to die. Actually die. Right there in the lobby of Clinically Approved, surrounded by the most obnoxiously unsupportive group of doctors in the entire state of Connecticut.

“You didn’t have to—” Quinton started.

“Oh, we absolutely did,” Fitz interrupted. “This is the most entertainment we’ve had in months. Possibly years. Possibly even rivaling Julien’s mental breakdown when he married Athena. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Fitz.”

“Besides,” Nathan said, grinning, “someone needs to be here to call 911 when Julien murders you. And nothing will top Julien’s mental crisis.”

“It wasn’t a crisis, and I’m not going to get murdered.”

“You’re absolutely going to get murdered,” Gabriel said, then added, “Was totally a crisis. We’ve got video, which you took as proof.”

I bit down on my thumbnail, my panic spiraling.

This is a nightmare. This is an actual living nightmare.

And then, as if the universe had decided to torment me further, Julien appeared. He strode in through the main entrance, his tablet clutched under one arm, coffee in the other hand, wearing the same flat, unimpressed expression that had become his trademark. I felt a cold wave of dread wash over me, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen.

He stopped abruptly, staring at the group clustered near reception. His gaze flicked to his watch, then back to us. “Why are all of you here before me?” he asked, his tone slow and deliberate, the question hanging in the air like a guillotine blade ready to drop.

My heart hammered in my chest as Julien’s gaze swept over us, the silence stretching until it felt suffocating. I could barely breathe, anxiety prickling along my skin.

Nobody spoke. We all seemed to freeze, uncertain whether to offer an explanation or simply hope he’d move on.

Fitz’s grin widened, his eyes bright with anticipation—a mischievous sparkle betraying how much he was relishing the moment. He looked utterly delighted, almost as if he were waiting for the curtain to rise on a drama he’d been hoping to see.

Gabriel shifted his weight, eyes darting between Julien and Quinton, clearly uneasy about what was coming next. The tension in his posture made it obvious he wanted to say something, but thought better of it, his fingers fidgeting at his sides.

Nathan pressed his lips together, shoulders trembling as he fought not to laugh. He cast quick, amused glances at the others, barely containing his amusement.

Hayden just sighed, rubbing his temples as though already exhausted by the drama unfolding around him, his patience thinning with each passing second.

And Quinton—poor, doomed, stupidly noble Quinton—looked pale, his jaw clenched and his hands trembling. He looked like he was about to throw up, barely holding himself together as the pressure mounted.

“Well?” Julien pressed, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the group, demanding an answer with only a look.

Fitz stepped forward, hands casually tucked into his pockets, that infuriatingly charming smile never faltering. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said simply, his tone light but steady, refusing to back down from the challenge in Julien’s eyes.

Julien stared at him, the silence thickening, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Then his eyes scanned the rest of the group, measuring each of us, searching for signs of guilt or fear.

Finally, he fixed his gaze on Quinton, who seemed to shrink beneath the scrutiny, his breathing shallow and rapid.

For one brief, terrifying moment, I waited for Julien to demand an explanation right there in the lobby, my mind racing with possible escape routes. Instead, he turned on his heel and marched toward his office. “Five minutes, Quinton,” he called over his shoulder, the words slicing through the tension. Then his office door shut with a decisive click.

The second—the second—that door closed, everyone started talking at once.

“You don’t have to do this⁠—”

“There’s still time to run⁠—”

“We could fake a medical emergency⁠—”