“I had a patient flatline in front of me two hours ago,” I remind her. “I think I’ll skip the blackout.”
She rolls her eyes. “God, you’re such a nun sometimes.”
I laugh under my breath, not because it’s funny but because it’s true. My life revolves around scrubs, double shifts, and bills that never stop multiplying. I can count my reckless decisions on one hand, and all of them involve trusting my brother.
Lilly kicks a pebble down the street. “You ever think about taking a day off?”
“Days off are expensive.”
“So are ulcers,” she mutters. “Come on, Kira. You’re twenty-seven. You should at least have a hobby that doesn’t involve vital signs.”
“I like reading,” I say defensively.
“You like medical journals.”
“And old movies.”
“On your couch. Alone.”
I sigh. “You’re relentless.”
“It’s a skill.” She nudges me again. “What about Lucas? Still MIA?”
A familiar pinch tightens in my chest at the thought of my brother. “Yeah. A week now.”
“Did you call him?”
“Twice. Straight to voicemail.”
She shrugs. “He’ll show up. He always does when he needs your help.”
That’s what I keep telling myself. Lucas always reappears eventually—hungover, broke, full of promises that last about three days. I’ve learned not to panic until the calls start coming from numbers I don’t recognize.
Still, something feels different this time. The air carries the same weight I feel before a bad shift, like the exact moment before a code is called, when everyone justknows.
Lilly notices my silence. “Hey,” she says gently, “he’s fine. He probably just found some new gig.”
“Or some new trouble.”
“You worry too much.”
“I have reason to.”
She looks at me with that mix of sympathy and frustration she’s perfected. “You can’t keep doing this, Kira. You can’t live your life cleaning up after him. He’s not your patient.”
“He’s my brother.”
“And you’re not his mother. He’s not your responsibility.”
The words sting more than I want to admit. I hate that she’s right. I hate that I still flinch every time someone reminds me that I’m not enough to fix him.
We walk in silence for a while. Streetlights flash gold across the pavement. The city hums with its usual chaos of horns and the faint echo of music from somewhere above us. It’s the kind of noise that makes you feel less alone, even when you are.
When we reach my building, Lilly stops at the corner. “Are you sure you’re good?”
“Yeah.” I try to smile. “Just tired.”
“Text me if you get bored and want me to come over with ice cream and wine.”
