I feel my eyes growing wide and my neck tilting as far back as it can go without snapping off, all in an effort to keep up with the sheer size of the imposing figure standing before me.

“Dexter Frost?” I finally manage to ask, my voice incredibly hoarse. “The oncologist?”

“Yes,” he admits with a nod. “I’m temporarily standing in as the assistant chief surgeon here at Greenwood.”

“I see,” I say. I suppose he does look way too young to be a chief surgeon, anyway. Still, I can’t help but feel a bit apprehensive about meeting with him. I know he’s a general surgeon as well, but the fact that oncology is his specialty doesn’t really sit well with me.

“You can reschedule to meet with Doctor Templin next week if you’d prefer that,” he offers.

I shake my head a little too adamantly. There’s no way I’m putting myself through another panic attack session if I don’t have to. I didn’t just throw up for nothing.

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