Page 64 of Wisteria and Cloves
Christopher beamed at the compliment, his gray eyes crinkling with pleasure. "Secret ingredient is a touch of cardamom. Miles grows it in his greenhouse."
"I've been experimenting with spices from different cultures," Miles added, closing his seed catalog to focus on the conversation. "The cardamom came from some seeds I got from a specialty grower in Oregon."
I took another bite, savoring the complex flavor. "It's subtle but makes everything taste... warmer somehow."
"Exactly!" Christopher exclaimed, clearly delighted that I'd picked up on the nuance. "Most people can't identify what's different, they just know they like it."
Nicolaus checked his watch with practiced efficiency. "Your appointment is at ten-thirty. We should leave by nine-forty-five to account for traffic and paperwork."
My fork paused halfway to my mouth as anxiety began to swell in my chest.
Julian must have noticed my hesitation because he reached over and gently touched my wrist. "What's making you most nervous about today?"
I set down my fork, trying to identify the tangle of anxieties in my chest. "I've never chosen my own doctor before. My parents always handled everything, told me what I needed. What if I don't know the right questions to ask?"
"That's what I'm there for," Julian said softly. "To help you advocate for yourself and make sure your questions get answered."
"And Dr. Chen is wonderful," Nicolaus added, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. "She takes time to explain everything and never makes decisions for her patients. She'll want to know what you want, not what someone else thinks you should want."
Miles leaned forward, his green eyes warm with understanding. "When I had to find a new doctor after my shoulder injury, I was terrified. The idea of explaining my medical history to a stranger made me physically ill." He offered a reassuring smile. "But Julian went with me that first time, just to be there. It made all the difference."
I nodded, taking another bite of pancake to buy myself time as I processed his words. The fact that even Miles—confident, capable Miles—had needed support made my own anxiety feel more normal.
"What kind of questions did you ask?" I found myself asking, curious about how someone else had navigated a similar situation.
"Mostly about my recovery timeline and what to expect," Miles replied thoughtfully. "But the doctor asked me a lot of questions too—about my lifestyle, my goals, what I was hoping to achieve with treatment." He stirred his coffee absently. "It was the first time a medical professional had asked what I wanted rather than just telling me what I needed."
Christopher wiped his hands on a dish towel, his expression growing more serious. "That's what good healthcare should be—collaborative rather than authoritarian. Dr. Chen understandsthat, especially when working with patients who've had their autonomy compromised."
I pushed the berries around on my plate, thinking about the implications. "I've been on suppressants since after my first heat.”
Julian's eyes narrowed slightly. "How old were you then?"
"Thirteen," I replied, watching their reactions carefully. "My mother said it was necessary to 'manage my inappropriate urges' and ensure I remained pure for my future mate."
Christopher made a small, distressed sound, quickly masked behind a cough. Miles's knuckles whitened around his coffee mug, and Nicolaus's expression grew carefully blank in the way I was learning meant he was controlling strong emotion.
"That's quite young for continuous suppressants," Nicolaus said, his voice measured. "Most doctors recommend waiting until at least sixteen, when the body's hormonal systems are more established."
"I wasn't consulted," I admitted, looking down at my half-eaten pancakes. "The doctor spoke only to my mother. I just received the injections."
Julian set his coffee down with deliberate control. "Do you know what type of suppressants they were giving you? How often?"
I shook my head, feeling ashamed of my ignorance about my own medical care. "Every month, I think? The doctor would speak to my mother in private, then a nurse would give me an injection. I was never told what it was exactly."
The silence that followed was heavy with barely contained anger. Nicolaus was the first to speak, his voice clinically controlled but with an edge that made me shiver.
"That's medical malpractice," he said quietly. "Patients have the right to informed consent, regardless of age. You should have been told what medications you were receiving and why."
Julian’s expression was gentle despite the fury I could see simmering beneath the surface. "Did you ever experience side effects? Mood changes, physical symptoms?"
I considered the question, trying to separate normal teenage experiences from potential medication effects. "I was always tired. Cold. I thought it was normal, but my mother would comment that I needed to have more energy, be more lively." I traced the rim of my water glass with my fingertip. "And I never... I never felt much desire. For anything, really. Food, activities, people. Everything was just... muted."
Julian and Nicolaus exchanged a significant look that I couldn't quite interpret.
"Those are common side effects of high-dose suppressants," Nicolaus explained, his voice softening. "Especially the older formulations. They don't just suppress heat cycles—they dampen the entire endocrine system, including the hormones that regulate energy, mood, and pleasure responses."
Christopher moved to refill my water glass, his expression troubled. "It's like putting a blanket over all your emotions, not just the sexual ones."
