"Finding your way around the city okay?"
"Yes."
"Have you been here long?"
"Not long."
Finn apparently wasn’t interested in sharing much about himself. Elena found herself filling the silence with more questions, then answering them herself when his responses remained minimal. The walk became increasingly uncomfortable with each failed conversation starter.
When they reached the lab, Elena felt almost relieved topush through the door into the familiar space. Three research assistants were already at work. Joanna was analyzing data at the main computer station, Derek organizing patient files, and Kayla preparing equipment for afternoon sessions.
"Everyone," Elena called, drawing their attention. "This is Finn, our new RA." She gestured toward him, conscious of how he towered beside her. "Finn, this is the team."
She didn't linger on individual introductions, sensing it would only extend the awkwardness. Finn’s gaze swept across the room, taking everything in with quick assessment. Elena led him to an empty workstation near her office. "You'll be based here. Let me explain what we're working on."
She launched into an overview of their research, partly to fill the silence and partly because he needed this foundation. "We're working with patients who have traumatic brain injuries. The goal is to help them regain cognitive function through targeted neurofeedback therapy. Essentially, we’re training their brains to form new neural pathways around damaged areas."
As she continued with details about the symptoms caused by brain trauma, she noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw. Before she could analyze that further, he interrupted her explanation.
"What frequency range are you targeting for the feedback?"
The question caught her off guard. It was something she'd expect a colleague to ask, not a new assistant. When she mentioned their struggle with inconsistent patient responses, his follow-up was equally targeted.
"Have you controlled for session duration variables? What about mapping responses against specific injury locations?"
Elena found herself shifting from basic explanation to high-level discussion in a matter of minutes. His knowledge reflected a genuine understanding of the research. "Well, why don’t you see for yourself? I'd like you to start by analyzing our current patient data," she said, a new respect coloring her tone. "We may have missed patterns in the response rates. Fresh eyes could help."
Throughout the day, she stole occasional glances at him from her office. There was something in his eyes that seemed older than twenty-six, something that spoke of a difficult history. She watched how his large frame made the office chair look almost comically small, how his broad shoulders carried tension despite his outward calm.
Late afternoon, she caught herself appreciating how his shirt stretched across his back as he reached for a manual on a high shelf. The movement revealed the muscle beneath the fabric, and Elena felt heat rise unexpectedly to her cheeks.
Stop. She was forty-one years old. He was twenty-six, not to mention her new assistant. Brilliant, yes, but absolutely off limits. Elena turned back to her computer, forcing her focus onto the grant proposal that was due by the end of the week, and away from inappropriate observations about her newest team member.
Chapter Three
FINN
By 5:15, the lab had emptied except for Finn, Elena, and the hum of the lab equipment. He'd made decent progress through the patient files, finding the organizational system workable enough, though he was already mentally redesigning it for better efficiency. His workstation stood in contrast to the others he'd glimpsed throughout the day. Files were sorted by injury type, then by treatment response rates, sub-categorized by session frequency.
He could optimize the entire lab's filing system in a weekend if they'd let him. The current method had redundant categories and insufficient cross-referencing. Finn made a mental note to suggest improvements once he'd established himself. The first day wasn't the time to criticize existing procedures.
The sound of footsteps broke his concentration. Dr. Herrera.
Finn looked up to find her approaching his desk.She was smaller than he'd fully processed during their collision that morning; her height barely reaching his shoulder. Her hair was pulled back in a professional style. She had warm brown eyes behind a pair of glasses. He noticed how she walked with this slight confident bounce that seemed almost humorous given her petite frame. She seemed to carry optimism despite the crushing deadline he'd overheard the team discussing.
He'd observed throughout the day how she'd checked in with each assistant, remembering personal details, asking about weekends and families. A warmth he hadn't encountered in previous labs, where lead researchers treated assistants like equipment. It seemed out of place in the cold, sterile lab.
"How was your first day?" she asked, genuine interest in her voice.
Finn kept his eyes on the screen, maintaining his practiced professional distance. "Productive. I've categorized about sixty percent of the current patient files and identified some preliminary patterns in the data."
"That's impressive, but I meant, how was your day? Settling in okay? Finding everything you need?"
The personal questions made him uncomfortable. They invited answers that he didn’t like to give. Answers he didn’t like to think about. "Everything's adequate," he answered, knowing the short answer would likely shut down further inquiries.
She tried again. "Are you from Seattle originally?"
"No." Finn glanced up to see her waiting for more. The silence stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable. He reluctantly added, "Northern California."
