Chapter 80 80

Chapter 80 80
Harmony's POV

Sunday was my day off from the clinic, but I went in anyway to inquire about Sasha, who was yet to call me like she promised she would. The lobby was dead, the rows of vinyl chairs sitting empty under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.

After the absolute chaos of the Salukis game yesterday and everything that had transpired on the sand at Ohio Street Beach afterward, my mind was running in a thousand different directions. My body seemed to crave Roman's touch every single minute, but I had to push that thought deep down. Right now, I was hoping to find some news about Sasha.

She had looked so terrified last week, clutching her phone like a lifeline and promising she would call me to talk some more about Dr Bennett. Her total silence since then had been a nagging weight in the back of my mind.

I walked up to the high reception counter. Nurse Patricia was sitting behind the desk, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she flipped through a stack of physical intake charts.

"Morning, Patricia," I said, leaning my forearms against the cool counter.

Patricia looked up, blinking behind her thick lenses before a warm smile broke across her wrinkled face. "Harmony, dear. What are you doing here on a Sunday? You're not scheduled for a shift until Tuesday afternoon."

"I know, yeah." I replied. "I was just um... nearby running some errands and wanted to check in on a patient from last week. The freshman tennis player, Sasha Millman. Did she happen to drop by while I was off?"

Patricia sighed, shaking her head as she tapped her pen against the edge of the desk. "No, sweetie. I've been having shifts since last Thursday, and her name hasn't crossed my schedule. Let me look at the digital log just to be certain."

She turned to her monitor, her fingers clicking slowly against the keyboard as she scrolled through the weekend appointments. I waited, watching the green light of the screen reflect off her glasses and praying that maybe another nurse had handled her intake.

"No," Patricia sighed, turning back to face me with a sympathetic shrug. "Nothing on Thursday, Friday, yesterday, and today. The freshman never showed up."

"Did she call, though?" I pressed, my fingers tightening slightly against the counter. "Maybe she left a message on the main clinic voicemail? She was dealing with some pretty severe migraine symptoms and sleep issues."

"I checked the machine first thing this morning, Harmony. There wasn't a single message from anyone on the athletic rosters," Patricia said, her tone turning a bit practical. She was looking at me with suspicion now. "Is there a reason you're this worried?"

"Oh, no. I just want to know."

"Well, you know how these freshmen athletes are." She shrugged again. "The moment they start feeling a tiny bit better, or the moment their training schedule gets too busy, the clinic is the first thing they forget about. She probably just went down to the student union to hang out with her friends or something."

"Sasha didn't look like she was going to hang out with friends," I murmured, more to myself than to Patricia.

"Well, if she's in pain, she knows where we are," Patricia said, patting my hand gently. "Don't carry the work home with you, dear. You did your job already. The rest is up to her."

Before I could reply, the phone on the desk began to ring loudly. Patricia gave me a quick, apologetic look and picked up the receiver. "Campus health clinic, this is Patricia... Yes, Doctor, he's down in room eighty five. Let me grab his chart and bring it right down to you."

She set the receiver down and stood up, reaching for a thick yellow folder from the rack behind her. "I have to run this down to the lower level. Are you heading out now?"

"Yeah," I lied smoothly, giving her a reassuring nod. "I'm just going to use the restroom down the hall and then head back to my apartment."

"Alright, dear. Have a wonderful rest of your Sunday," she chirped, clutching the folder to her chest as she hurried down the rear corridor.

The moment the sound of her footsteps faded, I moved swiftly. I stepped around the high security counter, my eyes scanning the empty lobby to ensure no one was walking through the front doors. The nurse workstation was silent, the only sound being the hum of the desktop computer tower under the desk. Patricia hadn't locked her screen; the patient database was still wide open, the cursor blinking patiently on the search bar.

A cold sweat had broken out across my palms. If anyone caught me doing this, it would be an immediate suspension from the program. This was a breach of protocol that could put me in trouble. But the image of Sasha's pale face and her shaking hands wouldn't let me walk away. Something was wrong, and I couldn't just sit back.

I grabbed the mouse, my fingers steady despite the rush of adrenaline, and typed the name into the search bar: MILLMAN, SASHA.

The screen flashed, loading her student profile. I bypassed the standard medical history, ignoring the charts about her past wrist sprains and training metrics, and scrolled straight down to the emergency contact and personal information tab.

There it was, her phone number written in neat digital print. I quickly pulled my phone from my pocket as I copied the ten-digit number into my keypad. I didn't save the contact; I just pressed the green call button and lifted the phone to my ear, stepping further into the shadow of the filing cabinets so I wouldn't be visible from the main lobby windows.

The line began to ring.

Every second felt like an eternity as I stared at the blank clinic wall, waiting for a human voice to answer. But after the seventh ring, an automated recording filled my ear.

"The subscriber you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."

A loud beep echoed through the receiver. I gripped the phone tighter, my voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Sasha, this is Harmony Sinclair from the campus clinic. You didn't call me like you promised. I'm really concerned about you. Please, the moment you get this message, call me back on this number. You don't have to come to the clinic if you're scared, just let me know you're okay."

I pressed the end-call button, then wiped the mouse with the edge of my sleeve to clear any prints. After that, I stepped quickly out from behind the counter and hurried out of the clinic, just as the distant sound of Patricia's shoes began to echo down the hallway again.