Simon hesitated by a fraction, barely noticeable, but there.
“You grew up here,” he said simply.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Simon still didn’t look up. “You’re well-documented.”
Noah laughed. “I love that phrasing.”
Simon’s tone went matter-of-fact. “Everyone in this town brings you up in conversation. I’ve learned more about your childhood mishaps than I have about some of my patients’ medical histories.”
“Oh God.” Noah groaned. “Pleasetell me you didn’t hear about the candy-cane misadventure.”
Simon paused. “The one where you got your tongue stuck to a frozen metal pole?”
“NO.”
“Then yes,” Simon said calmly. “And will youpleasekeep your hand still? This will only take longer if you fidget.”
Noah covered his face with his free hand. “I hate this town.”
“No, you don’t,” Simon said in a tone that surprised Noah with its quiet certainty.
Noah peeked through his fingers. “You’re right, I don’t.”
Simon removed the splinter with surgical neatness.
“There,” he said. “Clean.” He tugged off his gloves. “I’ll give you a small bandage. Keep it dry for the night.”
“You’re very good at your job,” Noah said.
“I should hope so.”
“You’re also very…” He searched for the word, but it found him before he found it. “…alone.”
Simon stilled, and the silence between them tightened, becoming thin, almost fragile. Simon’s face didn’t change, but something in his posture did. A subtle shift, a soft retreat.
“I prefer the term ‘self-contained,’” he said, his tone even but too careful.
Noah swallowed. “Sorry. That was too much.”
“It’s fine,” Simon said. “It was merely an observation.”
“Another occupational hazard,” Noah echoed softly.
Simon gave him the smallest, saddest smile he’d ever seen.
“Yes, exactly.” He stood and took a polite step back.
Professional distance re-engaged.
“You’re good to go,” he murmured.
Noah flexed his hand. “Thank you.”
Simon nodded. “Be careful tonight.”
“I’ll try.”
