Or that time halfway through the week, when I saw him talking with a third-year resident and Tay, his hands waving to illustrate something, dimples pressing craters into his cheeks. He seemed to make friends with ease. It reminded me that I’d been just like that, the kind of person who chatted with strangers in line for coffee, up until…med school, maybe? When it had felt like I was three steps behind everyone else and my only chance to keep up was working twice as hard.
Looking at Finn, I felt a flicker of something close to envy. Not of him, exactly, but of what he still knew how to do—connect, laugh, have conversations that weren’t all medical jargon. Somehow, I’d set that part of myself aside. Shane stuck because we’d shared four walls and a fridge, but the rest? I’d let it slide. My world was colleagues I liked but hardly knew and a list of unread messages from people I’d once meant to keep up with.
Maybe it was time I remembered there was a life outside the hospital.
You feel like something I locked away to survive med school.
On Friday, Tay caught up with me in the hallway and offered, unasked, “He’s sharp. Hayes, I mean. Got people skills, too. But, yeah—need to keep an eye on him. I don’t think he knows his limits yet.”
“Cocky?” I asked, a little surprised. Cheeky—well, yes, I could see that. But I didn’t perceive Finn as overly confident. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“No, not that.” Tay shook his head. “More the kind where you forget you’re human until you faceplant.”
Easy, I reminded myself.Neutral.
“Well.” I kept walking, Tay falling into step. “That’s something we all had to learn, isn’t it? Sink or swim.”
It must have come out too harshly, trying hard to project a distance I didn’t feel, because Tay slid me a surprised glance. “True,” he said. “But we can all use a little reminder sometimes, right?”
He wasn’t wrong. And with any other intern, I wouldn’t hesitate to give them a nudge.
Finn had been there before me most days, often with his hair still damp from a shower—I’d overheard him mentioning that he ran to work sometimes. Nothing wrong with that; I did, too.Thing was, though, that I doubted he got to bed early enough to balance it out.
“Did you tell him that sleep deprivation is not an asset?” I asked Tay.
“Sure did, yeah.” Tay tilted his head, mouth twitching into a faintly amused curve. “But I’m not the one he’s trying to impress, so…”
Right. Nothing unusual about that, was there?
I shot Tay a half-formed smile. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll talk to him, okay?”
“Good.” Tay gave my elbow a companionable bump, as if that was something we did. Not that I minded, just… Yeah. I wasn’t used to it, given my whole forgot-how-to-make-friends thing. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as we slowed near the elevators.
I liked him. Or at least I could.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m glad you matched here. You care about the kids, and you’re really good with them.”
Tay looked surprised, then pleased—he was easy to read. I’d just never stopped to notice. “Thanks,” he said. “Means a lot, you know? And you know you’re pretty damn good yourself, right? I’ve seen you with the kids here. Parents, too. You’re the one they look to when they’re scared.”
I could let it sit—a week ago, I would have. But, well.
“Maybe.” I huffed out a small laugh. “It’s just, you know—some days, I feel like I don’t even remember how to have a conversation that isn’t about lab results and post-op wound care.”
Tay didn’t even blink. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Easy to get caught up in the bubble, isn’t it? In what’s next.” His tone was light, but I caught the weight underneath. “Like, am I good enough, am I gonna land that attending spot, am I screwing this up by leaving at six for once?”
“Exactly.” I nodded, about to add more when a nurse poked her head around the corner.
“Dr. Maddox? PICU consult just came in. You’ve got a resident ready to go with you.”
“Hayes?” I asked, and she nodded.
I glanced at Tay, smiled. “Duty calls. But I’ll talk to him, all right?”
Tay grinned, dark eyes dancing. “Try not to use words like ‘fluid intake’ and ‘restorative downtime.’”
“No promises,” I said around a chuckle, and he waved me off with an easy wiggle of his fingers.
I found Finn on the way, waiting with one shoulder propped against the wall, all lean lines that couldn’t quite distract from the tired circles under his eyes. Was he even eating properly? Last I’d seen, he’d stuffed some plasticky lemon bar from a vending machine into his mouth.Later.
