But Cassian had been the exception. For a few years, at least, he'd been the one person I didn't have to try with.
And then I ruined it. We'd ruined it. Together and separately and in all the small ways that added up to something irreparable.
He hadn't looked at me once since sitting down.
I didn't know if that made things better or worse.
"Now," Dr. Patel said, her tone made my spine straighten. "The high-risk trauma protocol."
Several people shifted in their seats. This was clearly the main event.
"As you know, we've been developing a new system for managing multi-trauma patients. Streamlined triage, improved communication between departments, and better resource allocation during mass casualty events." Patel looked up from her tablet, scanning the room. "I'm naming co-leads to oversee development and training."
"Dr. Karras."
I met her gaze without flinching.
"Dr. Reed."
Cassian's head turned. For the first time since he entered the room, his eyes found mine.
It took half a second of contact before he looked away, his expression flickering through something I couldn't read. Surprise, maybe. Recognition. Discomfort.
Then his face went carefully blank, and he turned back to face Dr. Patel.
"Congratulations to you both," Patel continued, apparently oblivious to the tension now crackling through the room. "You've both got stellar reputations, and this protocol needs that kind of expertise. I expect great things."
Statue, I reminded myself. Emotionally unavailable statue.
"The first planning meeting is Thursday at six," Patel added. "I'll send the agenda tonight. Questions?"
The room fell into quiet murmurs.
"Good. Moving on."
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. Patel discussed scheduling rotations, upcoming conferences, and a new research initiative she wanted volunteers for.
I heard none of it. My mind was too busy calculating the implications of what had just happened.
Cassian and I would be co-leading a team together. That meant meetings, collaboration, and hours spent in close proximity, discussing patient outcomes and resource allocation—all the mundane details that came with hospital administration.
This was fine. I could handle this. I was a professional.
I repeated that to myself like a mantra while Patel droned on about continuing education requirements and departmental goals.
Professional.
Composed.
Unaffected.
These were things I knew how to be. I built my entire career on the ability to compartmentalize, locking away everything personal and focusing solely on the task at hand.
Mireya caught my eye from beside me and raised an eyebrow, a silent query laced with concern.
I gave her a small nod.
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. And I appreciated that.
