“Of the decade,” he corrected with another tug of a smile. It faded to something thoughtful. “I’ll do my best, all right? To be absolutely fair, evaluate you the way I would anyone else. Today’s four—part of me feels like I cheated you because I knew you’d win anyway. It won’t be like that during your rotation. So if there’s ever a point when I’m being too harsh, tell me.”
Something warm bloomed behind my ribs.Professionals, I reminded myself—even if part of me wanted to step closer.
No repeats. For all intents and purposes, we were hardly more than strangers.
“I appreciate it,” I said. “But I’m probably not the kind of guy who goes ‘hey, man, I deserve better.’”
“No, I guess you’re not.” He studied me with a strange, almost unsettling intensity. “It’s on me to get it right, then. And to have others weigh in whenever possible.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yeah.”
We watched each other as the city hummed beneath our feet. A breeze lifted the tips of his hair, his features washed in shadows. I took a step back and tucked my hands into my pockets. “So—Monday?”
“Monday,” he agreed—tone quiet, almost formal. A full stop. “See you on service, Dr. Hayes.”
I drew a breath and nodded. “Good night, Dr. Maddox.”
With that, I pivoted toward the stairwell door and slipped back into the building, didn’t allow myself to look back. Clinical overhead lights flashed on, and I blinked into the sudden brightness.
Inhale, exhale. Move.
Halfway down, I pulled out my phone to send Khai a text.
You good?
He shot back a smiley face, which I took as a yes. Permission to leave, then. I’d wallow a little, maybe hit another bar and find a hot stranger, no strings attached. Yeah—because that had worked so well for me last week.
Either way, Monday would be a fresh start.
EIGHT
JESSE
The workroom on Six North had all the charm of an unfinished basement—no windows, tired linoleum, and an ancient printer that rattled like an asthma patient every time it was put to work. At 5:40, the pallid glow of fluorescent lights was my only companion. I snuck a spoonful of the peanut butter I kept tucked behind a row of books, then logged in and waited while the printer had a long, hard think.
Don’t think about his mouth,I’d jotted into my notebook right after I’d rolled out of bed, pre-coffee.Chill, I told myself now.Cool as a cucumber, yep. That’s what I am.Or at least Ishouldbe after a golden weekend, both Saturday and Sunday off—forty-eight hours of avoidance therapy. Losing a three-on-three basketball game to Shane’s teacher buddies, shameless carbs, and a literature dive for the Jackson twins’ surgery. But somehow, the emergency brake Finn and I had yanked on Friday still felt hot under my hand.
Today, it had to hold.
Just as the printer finally coughed out the patient list, someone behind me said, “Morning, boss.”
I didn’t jump, but it was close. Tay Carter—newly minted fellow. He’d done a rotation last winter, back when I was stillfumbling through my first year of fellowship and he mostly trailed the attendings, but we’d crossed paths a few times. In addition to being whip-smart, he could be silly with the kids and serious with the parents, so I’d been happy to endorse his application. Now, both his hair and eyelids were battling gravity and mostly losing.
I shot him a little grin. “Since when am I the boss?”
“Since”—Tay yawned, half apologetic—“you’re scary enough that your intern shows up at five to get a lay of the land, so to speak.”
A flicker of unease. “Hayes?”
“Yep. Already on the floor.” Tay wandered over to the coffee machine and grimaced at the night’s leftover dregs. He poured a cup anyway as he continued talking. “Kid’s eager. Or caffeinated. Hard to tell.”
Of course Finn was desperate to prove himself, toimpress.
“Good sign.” I strove to keep my tone light. “Also, admit it: You love being able to call someone else ‘kid’ now.”
Tay grinned around the rim of his cup. “Guilty as charged.”
