Page 28 of The Love Operation

I can still do it.

A zing of excitement ripples across my skin. However, I really wish my mind hadn’t picked that memory. Because now my hand is between my legs, trying to quell the ache it’s just caused. I snatch it away and dash for the shower, stifling a groan.

Unfortunately, my sleep deprivation has tells:

A loose tongue. For me, lack of sleep is like sneezing after childbirth. Things slip out when they shouldn’t, and usually at the worst possible time.

Lowered inhibitions. This memory? Case in point.

Given that I just relived an interaction from months ago and my body reacted like it happened ten seconds ago, I decide there’s only one fix: a cold shower.

I scream through the entire thing, but it works. I’m awake and much less heated.

I’m going to need to avoid Isaac today, though.

I dress quickly.

After a quick tête-à-tête with Tad Cooper and an IV-bag-size coffee, I head for Delenn’s office.

Before I head inside, guilt tugs at me. I haven’t had the emotional bandwidth to deal with my parents’ situation until now. I fire off a group text to my brother and sister.

Me: So . . . what’s up with mom and dad?

I’m not giving them space. I’m giving me space. I’m angry, and I’m trying to convince myself they’re still the same people. But it doesn’t feel that way.

Maggie: You mean the retirement?

Me: Umm, #disasterpiecetheatre. WTF?

Everett: They’re having fun, Cord. What’s the big deal?

Me: They’re quitting practice! That’s a huge deal. It’s out of nowhere.

I wish they’d be just as upset as I am so I’d feel justified, but of course they’re not. And I haven’t admitted that what really hurts is that they knew before I did.

If I hadn’t caught my parents filming, when would they have told me?

Me: Why didn’t they tell me?

The second I hit send, I realize that’s another big thing that’s bothering me.

Everett: Because they knew you’d freak out.

Damn Everett and his bluntness.

Me: My reaction is reasonable. Send schedules. We need to talk.

I don’t have time for this. Not now. I need to focus on becoming chief. This is the life equivalent of being swarmed by mosquitoes when all you want to do is enjoy the damned picnic.

And then, just as my coffee and I charge toward the entrance, I spot a gigantic mosquito in a suit—one that fits him obscenely well.

The way my sleep-deprived body reacts is disgusting. I duck my head and speed toward the door, hoping he doesn’t see me. But I still feel him, an invisible force field pulling at me.

“Dr. Wren?”

I don’t stop. Better to be rude than reckless.

My mom always told me that one of the best ways to get ahead in life is to know your weaknesses and then manage them.