Chapter 5
Willa
My morning isa blur of well-child checkups and vaccination appointments. Usually, I love this part of my job— the chance to connect with families, to reassure worried parents, to make kids laugh while I check their ears and tell them there’s bananas or potatoes growing in there.
But today, I can’t stop thinking about Henry.
The way he looked at me in his truck, like I was something precious. The way he talks about Ben with such obvious love. The way his hand felt against mine—warm and solid and safe.
Safe.
I haven’t felt safe in so long.
Wally made me feel like I was constantly walking on eggshells, never knowing what would set him off. A patient who took too long. A colleague who was too friendly. My skirt too short or too long or the wrong color entirely.
With Henry, I feel like I can breathe and just… be. Be myself. Be excited about weird things. Be hopeful.
Be… happy?
“Dr. Monroe?” Shayla, my nurse, pokes her head into my office. “You have a walk-in. Henry Hunter and his son Ben. He says Ben has a scrape that needs looking at.”
My heart does something stupid in my chest. “Send them in.”
I have thirty seconds to smooth my hair, check my reflection in the computer monitor, and wonder why I care what I look like for a seven-year-old’s scraped knee.
Not trying to look good for the seven-year-old, and you know it.
`The exam room door opens, and Henry walks in carrying a small boy who has his exact smile and the same warm brown eyes. Ben’s clutching a box of treats like they’re treasure.
“Hi,” Henry says, and even though I just saw him two hours ago, my breath catches all over again. “Sorry to crash your day, Doc. Ben had a little accident.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Hi, Ben. I’m Dr. Willa. Can I take a look at your knee?” I crouch down to Ben’s eye level. He’s got a tiny scrape on his knee, barely bleeding, the kind of injury that happens a dozen times a day on any playground and really doesn’t need a doctor, so I’m curious. “Does it hurt?”
“A little, but not a lot. Plus, chicks dig scars.” Ben nods, his eyes wide.
I chuckle a little. “Who told you that?”
He stills. “Well, Daddy did.”
I look up at Henry and he looks a little uneasy. Jealous, maybe?
Maybe we’re both hiding something under all of our smiles and small talk. It’s easy to hide the scars that are deep inside.
Then he blurts out, “You’re really pretty. Daddy said you were pretty.”
Henry’s face turns the most amazing shade of red. “Ben, I said she was nice.”
“Okay, you said that too, but you said pretty, too. I remember,” Ben insists. “You said she’s the prettiest lady in Valentine and you like her coffee order because it’s the same as Grandma’s and?—”
“Buddy, maybe Dr. Monroe doesn’t need to hear all of that right now.” Henry looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole, and it’s adorable. He rubs the back of his neck.
I’m smiling so hard my face hurts. “I think your dad’s pretty too, Ben. And I bet this knee is going to heal up perfectly.” I gently clean the scrape, and Ben doesn’t even flinch. “You’re very brave.”
“Daddy says brave people feel scared but do the thing anyway. So I’m being brave.” Ben watches me apply a small bandage. “Daddy gets really nervous when you come to the bakery. One time he dropped a whole tray of muffins because you smiled at him.”
“Ben!” Henry groans.
I look up at him, and his expression is a mix of mortified, amused, and hopeful, and I want to kiss him so badly it physically hurts.
