Not Nurse Rourke.
Destiny.
I looked at him.
He swallowed, the movement pained.
“I didn’t know you’d be assigned here.”
“I know.”
“I wouldn’t have?—”
“What?” I asked softly. “Looked?”
His face tightened.
I gave him the smallest smile.
It hurt.
“Because we both know that’s not true.”
He closed his eyes.
I moved toward the door.
Before I reached it, it opened.
Georgia stood there with a coffee tray in one hand and a paper bag tucked against her hip.
She stopped when she saw me.
Then her eyes moved past me to Dylan.
To his face.
To whatever was still written there despite all his effort to erase it.
The room changed again.
Georgia’s smile faltered.
Not gone.
Just wounded before she could hide it.
“I brought breakfast,” she said.
Her voice was bright in the way women sounded when they had already cried and refused to do it again in front of witnesses.
I stepped aside immediately.
“His vitals are stable,” I said. “Pain is elevated. I’ll update the nurse.”
Georgia nodded.
“Thank you.”
