I didn’t wait for Dr. Mitchell to return. I picked Pampi up and walked out, a knot of frustration and worry twisting in my chest.
Halfway down the hallway, I saw him. Chris was leaning against the wall, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes on the clinic doors.
“There you are,” he said, smiling, though the edges of it were taut. “Everything alright?”
I swallowed, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just checking on Pampi.”
He stepped closer automatically, his presence solid and familiar, close enough that I could feel his warmth through the thin space between us.
“You okay?” he asked, softer this time.
I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m taking her for a short walk. Light exercise. Keep the leg moving.”
His eyes searched my face for a beat longer than I liked.
“Meet you back at the room?”
“Yeah.” I stepped around him before he could ask anything else.
12
CHRIS
Istared at the beer in front of me glumly. I thought a drink or two would make me feel better, but the longer I sat there, the heavier my chest felt. Jaime’s words looped again, uninvited and relentless.
I’d been standing outside the clinic, excited to see and talk to Jaime about the case’s latest developments, when the words caught me like a hook under the ribs.
I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. I hadn’t even realized Jaime was talking about me at first… and then I had.
I dragged a thumb along the condensation on the glass, watching the water bead and slide.
Inexperienced wannabe trainer.
I took a swallow. The beer tasted flat now, bitter in a way it hadn’t been earlier.
I’d really thought I was contributing. Not just filling space or simply tagging along because I happened to have some enforcer potential. Sure, I leaned on Jaime. I wasn’t blind to that.
His instincts were sharp, honed by years of experience in his field. I trusted him. Still, somewhere along the way, I’d started believing I was pulling my own weight too.
Apparently that belief had been… optimistic.
The stool beside me scraped softly as someone shifted nearby, and I barely registered it. My thoughts were loud, crowded, turning in tight circles like a wolf pacing a fence line.
Maybe I’d been operating under my own misapprehension, thinking I was more than an eager set of hands. More than enthusiasm and good intentions dressed up as competence. I snorted quietly and took another drink.
“Hey.”
A hand landed on my shoulder, solid and familiar. I looked up, irritation already sharpening my tongue, ready to snap at whoever thought now was a good time to?—
Levi.
My older brother stood there with that same steady expression he’d worn my entire life. Dark hair pulled back, eyes sharp and assessing, like he was already cataloguing everything I wasn’t saying.
The irritation collapsed into something closer to relief.
“Hey,” I said miserably.
He tipped his head, his gaze flicking from my face to the beer, then back again.
