Shane raised his sweating Diet Coke in a toast. “Infrastructure that wasn’t born in the goddamn Industrial Revolution.”
“True.” I nodded, chewed.
Shane waited half a beat, then added, “Also, you know, those pink zebras they released into Central Park. Real sign of decline, man.”
Watered-down mariachi played over the hiss of fajitas, tugging on the ends of my focus. It took me a second to actually parse Shane’s words, then I blinked. “Wait, what?”
He grinned. “Just checking if there’s life on Mars.”
Ha. I reached for my mezcal. It burned on the way down, smoke and citrus on my tongue that reminded me of the night I’d first met Finn—all bite and charm, a beautiful stranger with sharp comebacks and a hint too much eyeliner. I’d never paid for it before, but something about him made that line feel…negotiable.
“Sorry,” I told Shane. “Just thinking.”
“Try—”
“Not to break something, I know.” A reluctant smile pulled at my mouth as I took another sip.
“Yep—that.” Shane leaned forward, his tone tilting into something slightly more serious. “Hey, man. You saved a baby tonight. You should high-five the universe, not…look like someone shot your cat.”
Ah, yes. Right for the throat. Classic Shane—and somehow, I actually appreciated it. Still. “I don’t have a cat.”
“You’d have one if you didn’t spend most of your waking hours at Devon. And my point stands.”
Fair.
Shane waited while I fidgeted with my water glass, buying myself a couple of seconds to think. It wasn’t that I wanted to hold back—not with Shane. He’d seen me come home after someone’s heart had stopped, stand in the kitchen like a statue for several minutes, then sit down on the floor and cry until I couldn’t breathe, like a thread finally pulled loose. He’d grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey, sat down right next to me, and told me I looked like roadkill. “You need a hug and a drink, man. Lucky for you, I’ve got both. Come here, will ya?”
So, yeah. No holding back. I just wasn’t sure how to put voice to the tangled thoughts inside my head. Maybe by starting simple.
“Finn was there.”
Shane pursed his mouth. “I’m gonna need you to narrow that down. ‘There’ as in somewhere in the hospital? Or ‘there’ as in…”
“Next to me,” I finished. “Ran up eight floors to bring the blood I needed. And then he stayed, backed me up when everything seemed to go wrong at once.”
A second passed.
“And?” Shane prompted, his attention barely wavering as one table over, a group broke into hollering, slightly drunken laughter. Right, Saturday night. Party time.
“And it just…” I inhaled. “He was incredible, Shane. Fucking incredible. I keep trying to play it cool, you know? Professional, all that. And then he goes and saves my ass in the middle of a blackout, with a crashing baby and a vent that stops working. And I want?—”
Fuck.
Shane’s face changed, softened. “You want more.”
I tipped my head back and closed my eyes for a moment, could still feel the warmth of Finn’s body against mine—working together to save a life. No walls. I exhaled. “Yeah, I really fucking do. But I can’t cross that line.”
“Okay.” Shane’s lips twisted in thought. “Worst-case scenario. Let’s say he wants this, too, let’s say you go for it and someone finds out. What happens?”
I huffed a dry laugh, zero amusement. “HR would lose their shit. At the very least, he’d get pulled off the twins case. And yeah, maybe it wouldn’t go into full-on disciplinary action, but the vibe? Wow.”
“Yeah.” Shane rolled the can between his fingers, voice dipping quieter. “Abuse of power. Even if it wasn’t.”
It sucked. Hearing the words like that, the blunt truth of what the stakes were—painful, just a little, but necessary.
“Exactly.” I sighed. “I’m trying to land an attending spot, and he’s just getting started. Even if no one says it out loud, there’dalways be that…” Stain? Suspicion? “That slightly off taste. We’d never shake that.”
Shane turned the can some more, an unhappy crease between his brows. “What if you wait? Not like what you joked about before—seven years or whatever. Let him finish the rotation, let the surgery happen. Then, six months from now, if it still feels like something? Ask him to lunch.”
