I walk in, surprised.“Yeah, starved.Oh, it’s ready?”
He remains silent as he serves himself a bowl at the stove, his back to me.
“You want me to set anything up?”I ask, noticing the table’s bare; no spoons or bowls.
He turns and takes his bowl to the table.“Come help yourself.I don’t know how much you want.”
I grab the ladle, fill my bowl, and sit.
The silence stretches, and then he breaks it.“So I asked Dr.Harrison how your first day was.”
I freeze for half a second, my spoon hovering just above the bowl.“Yeah?What’d he say?”
“He said you were great,” he says matter-of-factly.Not proud or pleased.His eyes stay on his bowl.
The words should feel good.But they feel more like a complication.
I nod, keeping my gaze low.“This is good,” I whisper.“Thanks.”
He doesn’t answer, just goes back to eating.
I let the silence stretch again, listening to the clink of his spoon against the bowl.My eyes drift to the fridge, where the creamer sits.He said I was great.
Coming from Dr.Harrison, that shouldn’t mean anything.And yet… it does.It wedges under my skin, warm and unwanted.Because he sees me and thinks I’m good.
Suddenly restless, I shift in my seat.
I shouldn’t care so much about what Harrison thinks.I shouldn’t feel this flicker of something I can’t name just because he said I did well.
But I do.
And now I feel weirdly guilty about the creamer.
Chapter 5
Brant
I’vealreadydonemyusual morning run and arrived at the hospital earlier than needed, partly out of habit, but mainly because I need the quiet before the day begins.Specifically, before I’m stuck babysitting Dr.Thomas’s daughter.
In the break room, I’m alone for now.I grab my mug, a plain white ceramic one with a tag on the handle that reads HARRISON, and reach for my creamer.I pause.The bottle feels… lighter.
I turn it around.My name is still scrawled across the label in thick black marker, but the level’s noticeably lower.
“I haven’t used that much,” I mutter, unscrewing the lid and peering inside.Did someone seriously steal my creamer?
Before I can decide if I’m paranoid or justified, the door swings open and a pack of nurses floods in, laughter and floral perfume trailing with them.I tighten the lid and try to step aside.
“Dr.Harrison,” one of them, Connie,I think… says with a grin.“We were just talking about you.”
“That’s usually a sign to run,” I reply dryly.
The group laughs, and another nurse, Dani, tosses her hair over her shoulder.“You do anything fun last night?”
“Worked all day, and then went home and crashed.”I offer a faint smile and stir my coffee.
“Oh, come on,” Connie says, nudging Dani.“You mean to tell us there’s no secret girlfriend tucked away somewhere?You’re too put together to be single.”
“I assure you, it’s entirely possible.”I take a sip of my coffee, gaze fixed on the far wall, purposefully avoiding eye contact with her.“I’m not exactly a thrill to date.”
