“We’re sharing secrets, remember?” I teased with a smirk. “Come on, tell me.”
She bit the inside of her lip, and I watched her wrestle with the words as if she were physically trying to hold them back.
“I… I was just gonna ask— I wanted to know if…”
And that was all I needed. I didn’t need the rest. I knew exactly what she was thinking, what she was too stubborn—or maybe too shy—to finish. My mind skated ahead, fast and reckless, imagining the easiest, smoothest way to take the question from her and put her out of her misery. Ask her out myself. Keep it casual. Make it fun. She was hot, Mason was right, and honestly, I didn’t hate being around her. Every time we’d been together, I’d had a good time. She was fun, sharp, and completely unfiltered when it came to her team.
I opened my mouth to bridge the gap for her, to cut through the hesitation for both our sakes, but before I could get the words out, she beat me to it.
“Seriously, never mind. It’s getting late.”
Just like that, she ended it. No ambiguity. No lingering tension for me to tease apart.
She opened the door wider, and I hesitated, my mind racing faster than my legs. I wanted to push, wanted to take a chance and see if she’d let me. But the firm set of her shoulders and that subtle edge of resolve in her movement told me all I needed to know. Not tonight. Not this time.
The door clicked behind her as she waved me out, polite but definitive.
And then I cursed under my breath, because I’d been a chicken. All that buildup, all that momentum, and I’d let it slip through my fingers.
7
Nicole
I rounded the corner into the pediatric wing, wincing at the tangle of twinkle lights hanging along the rails. The tree in the waiting area had toppled slightly, branches scraping the tile, and a strand of garland drooped across a chair. Carols played from the ceiling speakers, tinny but persistent, and I adjusted the badge on my scrubs before sliding it into the reader at the nurses’ station.
Rosemary appeared from behind the supply shelves, cart wheels rattling against the floor.
“Nicole, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you the other night,” she said, ducking under the garland arch at the doorway.
“It’s fine. I managed to get in.”
She stopped beside me, leaning a hip against the edge of the counter. “If it makes you feel any better, my date was a total disaster.”
“That sucks. Sorry it had to end early.”
“No, that’s the problem,” she said, shaking her head with enough force to jostle her ponytail. “It didn’t end early. He was awful in bed. I should’ve called it at the appetizers.”
I snorted a laugh, letting the marker squeak across the whiteboard while recording vitals for a kid in room 312. “Well, thank you for that mental image.”
“Generosity,” she said, smirking. “I offer it freely.”
A little boy in the same ward shoved a plush reindeer against his chest and squealed when the cord of his pulse monitor tapped his ankle. I straightened it and gave him a thumbs-up.
“You look like you’re ready to open presents,” I said, ruffling his hair.
His smile was tired, but there, and my heart ached as I finished up my rounds. This time of year was the hardest to get through, but I couldn’t escape it this time. Not after all the shifts I owed.
Rosemary adjusted the bag on a mobile IV pole, glancing at the chart on the bed rail. “The ward’s turned into a peppermint hurricane.”
I followed her gaze to the hallway, where Otto zigzagged between beds, tucking tubing behind monitors like he was tiptoeing through a minefield. The little girl in room 315 swung a stuffed unicorn back and forth, watching him with wide eyes.
“You never told me how you ended up getting in,” Rosemary said then, sidestepping a particularly lush display of holly and tinsel.
“Oh, I got some help from my neighbor.”
Her mouth dropped open, but thankfully there was no time to grill me on it, because a sudden clatter drew my attention to the elevator that dinged. Two figures stomped down the hall, boots still covered in a light dusting of snow.
“Did you know about this?” Otto whispered. I shook my head, no.
