“You’ll be transferred upstairs once a room opens,” I tell her. “We’ll monitor you for a few hours.”
She nods absently, still staring at the twins. As I turn to leave, she says, “Doctor.”
I glance back.
“Thank you,” she adds.
“You did the hard part,” I reply.
Her lips curve faintly. “Yeah. But you made it easier. Thanks for that.”
“Happy to, Perry.” I step out into the hallway, the door swinging closed behind me. The ED noise crashes back in—phones ringing, a nurse calling for labs, a stretcher rolling past at speed, a patient shouting for their meds.
Once more into the breech…
I head toward Meron’s office, irritation rising again now that the adrenaline has settled. I didn’t want the case—but that’s not why I’m going. I want to tell him to stop assigning patients like he’s testing me. This bullshit’s gone far enough. I’m done playing his games. He can treat me like everyone else. He’s done it before.
I knock once and push the door open. Empty. His jacket is gone. His computer is dark. A note sits on the desk, scribbled quickly:Left early. You’ve got the floor.
I stare at it for a long moment. Then I laugh. Of course he fucking did.
For a moment, I just stand there in Meron’s empty office, staring at the note like it might rearrange itself into something less predictable.
I crumple the paper and drop it into the trash, irritation simmering but contained. He enjoys this—it’s another part of his game. If something goes wrong, it’s my shift. My call. My name on the chart.
Fine.
I step back into the hallway, already shifting gears. The ED board glows at the nurses’ station—two ambulances inbound,one chest pain in triage, a psych consult escalating. The rhythm tightens instantly.
“Dr. Baylock,” one of the nurses calls. “You’re primary tonight?”
“Looks like it,” I reply.
There’s a ripple of acknowledgment. They’ve worked with me long enough to know I don’t flinch when things stack up, and they’ve worked with Meron long enough to know how he fucks off whenever he wants because department heads can do whatever they want. Apparently.
“Room three’s ready for reassessment,” another nurse says. “And EMS is five minutes out.”
“Got it.”
I move, mind clearing, irritation with Meron dissolving into something more productive. This is what I prefer—the immediacy of it, the need for decisiveness. No politics. Just problems and solutions.
Still, as I wash my hands outside room three, an image flashes uninvited into my mind. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. The way Perry looked at me when I told her she did good. That flicker of recognition.
I shake it off. I must have seen her at Carlton’s. She’s pretty enough that I would have noticed her there. Or anywhere. Hell, even halfway through delivering twins, she was beautiful. Sweaty and red-faced and beautiful. It makes sense that her face would have stuck in my memory.
The patient with chest pain is stable. Labs pending. EKG borderline but not alarming. I adjust meds, speak in the samecalm, measured tone I always use. Confidence steadies people. Even when you’re the one running on fumes.
The hours blur the way they always do on overnight shifts. An overdose reversed. A laceration stitched. A teenager reassured that their mom is going to be okay after a car accident. Somewhere around three in the morning, the waiting room finally thins.
I grab coffee that I will regret and lean against the counter for the first time all night.
Meron and Amber. Engaged. The thought returns, uninvited but persistent. I almost feel sorry for him—almost. Being engaged to Amber requires stamina. Requires a tolerance for scrutiny and control that most men don’t recognize until it’s too late.
Also, I have the hardest time picturing Meron being intimate with her. Amber, for all her flaws, has a predatory vibe that works well in the bedroom. Like she’ll devour a man whole if she wants to.
Meron has all the sexual charisma of an old dishrag, so I have the overwhelming urge to shudder in disgust when I think of them so much as kissing.
But then I remember the quiet distance that crept into my marriage before it officially ended. The late meetings. The sudden absences. The way Meron stopped meeting my eyes before everything fell apart.
