I jerked my chin at the elevators. “Come on.”
He pushed off the wall and followed, walking just behind my left shoulder. Once the elevator doors closed, the heavy weight of carefully measured distance stretched between us. This was normal, right? How would I stand with any other intern?
A badge swipe, then swinging doors allowed us into the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit and its usual low-level buzz. Soft murmurs overlaid the muted beeping from monitors, ventilators breathing for tiny bodies as staff moved with quiet efficiency around hollow-eyed parents. The cool, filtered air was thick with hope and grief, and I caught the way Finn’s shoulders rolled back, his face pulling tight.
If he were anyone else, would I say something?
“It can be a lot, the first few times.” I kept my voice low, blending in with the charged air of subdued activity around us. “Keep your focus and stay calm. They look to us for reassurance.”
He flinched just enough for me to notice, like a cat startled by a sudden sound. “Understood,” he muttered, stiff as if I’d criticized him, and shit, no.
“It was meant as a reminder. Orientation-week wisdom, if you will.” I cleared my throat and forced a weak smile. “You’re doing fine. No flailing in sight.”
He nodded, not quite looking at me. Damn. I’d said it wrong, hadn’t I? But I couldn’t come up with anything better, didn’t want to beat a dead horse.
We reached Room Eleven, the curtain partly drawn. I greeted the nurse and took over the chart, scanning the latest labs while talking through the presentation, mostly for Finn’s benefit. When I glanced his way, he was watching intently, fully focused. Still too pale, though.
“Vitals look stable,” I said. “Dr. Hayes, what’s your take?”
His mouth tightened briefly, lips pressing together. Then he listed three possibilities in quick succession—clear, sharp, a little too fast. His instincts were good.
I listened, nodding, and let my voice tip warmer. “Good. And if you were worried about perfusion?” Blood flow to tissues and organs was a standard concern in PICU cases, a softball question he’d have no trouble answering. I’d do the same for any other intern—familiar ground, gentle reassurance.
“I’d check circulation to see how well blood is moving and see if there’s any buildup of lactic acid.” He tucked his chin. “Maybe also do an echo, make sure there’s no structural problem?”
“Good.”
He looked up at the praise, like he hadn’t expected it. I turned back to the chart before it could spiral into some kind of moment.
Five minutes later, we made our way back, a rubber band of silence taut between us. We stopped in the break room forcoffee, his shoulders hunching as he inhaled it like oxygen, cheeks gray.
I fixed him with a look. “Hayes.”
He damn near jumped. “Yes, Dr. Maddox?”
It shouldn’t rub me the wrong way, and yet it did. A brief check told me we were alone. “Finn.” I softened my voice—nothing inappropriate, just the way I’d talk to a friend. “Caffeine and sugar snacks aren’t lunch. They also don’t compensate for chronic sleep deprivation.”
His forehead creased like he was trying to figure something out—whether he’d been scolded or cared for, maybe. “Got it,” he said slowly, unsure. “Thanks.”
I took a step back so I wouldn’t reach out. “Okay, good. Take a real lunch, all right? Cafeteria, actually sitting down while you eat. Then meet me back here.”
His nod was quick, blue eyes clouded with exhaustion. I’d send him home early today. No big deal—just looking out for someone under my charge.
Routine practice.
NINE
FINN
“Dr. Maddox thinks I’m an idiot,” I said.
“I’m sure he doesn’t.” Tessa leaned across the table to pat my shoulder while Khai made a mildly commiserating noise. All contrast, they were tucked together on one side of the diner booth, sharing fries and a salad—Tessa’s firecracker energy offset by Khai’s calm air, her pink hair and purple dress next to his black T-shirt and simple jeans. Cute.
I tried not to envy them.
Yeah, they’d had it easy while the state of my romantic affairs was a mess. But I wasn’t even looking for a relationship. Sure, the theory sounded nice—someone to turn to, that one person who’d have your back no matter what. Not exactly my experience, though. Friends? Yeah, I’d been mostly lucky with that. Guys, though? Eh. Complicated.
Case in point? Jesse. Not that I could share the full story with Tessa and Khai, so venting my insecurities felt like a tightrope act.
