“I know. And I appreciate the thoroughness.” She perched on the edge of her own desk. “But maybe ease the team into the changes? You’ve been here less than a week. It may take them a little while to adjust to the changes.”
He considered this, eyes flicking up to hers. “The errors were not sustainable. And the deadline is tight.”
“You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “But you’re also not in charge. Not officially, anyway.”
Finn sat still for a moment, then nodded once. “Understood. I will alter my approach.”
“Good.” She took a sip of coffee before adding, “But keep an eye on Derek. He’s sensitive about correction.”
“Would you prefer me to allow his mistakes to persist?”
Elena considered carefully before responding. She’d supervised enough teams to realize that most assistants preferred not to criticize their peers. Finn wasn’t the typical research assistant, however. And the deadline was always looming. Mistakes could cost them valuable time they didn’t have. “No,” she said. “Just… make the corrections less visible. To the ego, at least.”
Finn nodded, seemingly indifferent to office politics. “I can do that.”
Elena watched him for another second. There was something almost practiced about his stillness, like he had trained at a Buddhist temple. She wondered what it would be like to reach that level of Zen. “That’s all. Thank you for your hard work.”
He nodded and left without another word. Through the glass, she saw the others pivot away from the door, feigningbusy. Finn took his seat and was soon lost again in the patient charts.
Elena found herself suppressing a smile, not for the first time. She probably should have defended the other assistants. But every time she tried to conjure a defense, she couldn’t. Finn’s way was simply better.
Chapter Five
FINN
The lab felt different on days when Miguel was there. A little more chaotic. Finn tried to focus on the screens in front of him. He was combing through the new set of patient data.At the far corner table, Miguel hunched over his math homework. Every so often he muttered under his breath. Then he let out a sigh, drawn out for attention. Finn pretended not to notice.
Just as he regained focus, a loud scrape sound interrupted him. Miguel repositioned his chair. If he were honest, the kid wasn’t so bad. He was quick for a twelve-year-old. Not just in math, but in the little psychological games kids played to get attention. Finn suspected Miguel made his teachers’ lives difficult.
The second sigh, louder and more theatrical, was impossible to ignore. “Something wrong?” Finn asked, eyes still on the screen.
Miguel answered without looking up. “Chair’s broken. It wobbles.”
“Try a different one,” Finn offered.
Miguel made a show of examining the remaining chairs. “They’re all worse. This place is pathetic.”
Finn stifled a smile. “I can put in a maintenance request.”
Miguel grunted, accepting this olive branch.
Peace lasted for six minutes. “The lights here are weird,” Miguel mused.
“Fluorescents,” Finn said. “Not ideal, but better for visibility.”
“I know what fluorescent lights are, Doctor.”
Finn turned to find Miguel already looking at him. And creepily closer than he was before? A mini stare-off between Finn and Miguel began. After ten strange seconds, Miguel snorted and looked away, but it was not an admission of defeat.
By seven o’clock, he had exhausted all academic grievances and moved onto the business of life. “She always makes me come here,” he said, not quite to Finn but not to himself, either. Finn said nothing, waiting. “My uncle doesn’t care if I do homework. He says school is a scam.”
“He is incorrect.”
Miguel shrugged, unconvinced. “He also says Mom is obsessed with work.”
Finn kept his eyes on the brain scans filling his monitor. “Your mom is the lead researcher of this lab. That requires dedication.”
Miguel switched tactics. “You’re obsessed with work, too. You might be more obsessed than she is.” Then he added under his breath but intentionally still audible, “Psycho.”
