Chapter 12 #2
“Yeah.” Coffee, dinner, anything. It wasn’t like I hadn’t done it before, but it’d been casual. I’d never felt this burning urgency to know someone better. “So, you know. That sucks.”
“It does.” No sugarcoating—classic Shane. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”
I breathed in deep. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward to clink his mug against mine. “Anytime, brother. You’ve got this, okay? And maybe, you know—he won’t be your intern forever.”
“No. But even a year from now, the optics wouldn’t be good. Plus…” I shrugged and looked away. “He’s hardly gonna wait around for me, Shane. He’s… First time I saw him, he was rejecting guys left and right.”
“Sounds familiar. You’ve dragged me to a gay bar or two, remember?” Shane’s voice carried amusement, and yeah, okay, I knew what I looked like. But it wasn’t the same.
“Not like that.” I shook my head. “He just got out of a shitty relationship, sounds like. He could have anyone.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want just anyone.”
“Maybe,” I echoed, unconvinced, and Shane’s face softened.
“Eat your croissant, Jesse. World might look a little brighter once you’ve had some sugar.”
“Is that what you teach your kids?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“I’m not desperate.”
“No, you’re not.” Shane’s chuckle was warm, kind. “But you’re half in love with someone you can’t have, and that’s not your average Tuesday.”
I thought about protesting the assumption, but… fuck it. Shane knew me. So I nodded, took a bite of my croissant, and waited for the sugar coating to chase away the caffeine bitterness.
It worked—well enough, anyway, to let me pretend I wasn’t still thinking about the way Finn had looked on my bed, golden skin against navy sheets.
A one-time lapse in judgment.
The glass door of Dr. Novak’s office gave a milky view of her pacing inside as she read over some document, sleeves pushed up and hair as sharp as ever. Behind her, the twin-separation timeline loomed like a war plan.
All right. Let’s rip off the Band-Aid.
I knocked.
She turned, took in my street clothes with a quick glance, and waved me in. “Dr. Maddox. You’re not even scheduled today.”
“Figured I’d get a jump start on the week.” I stepped inside and closed the door, striving for a calm expression. Normal, yeah. Except, uh, what did normal look on me—a smile, something more neutral? Polite interest?
“Commendable,” she said, dry as the creek behind my folks’ place by mid-July. “With just a hint of overachievement, perhaps. I hear rest isn’t only for the wicked.”
There was a joke in there, right? Or maybe just a special brand of irony given Novak was rumored to keep a sleeping mat under her desk so she needn’t waste time going home.
We actually lived in the same area, but I’d never spotted her shopping for groceries or grabbing a coffee—normal things you’d do if your apartment was more than an occasional pit stop to change clothes.
So, yeah, watercooler gossip might have gotten it marginally right. For once.
I reached for a half-assed chuckle. “Lies, if you ask me.”
“Indeed.” She arched a thin eyebrow. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Yesterday,” I said. “In PICU.”
She nodded. “Solid judgment in a high-pressure situation. I said it already, but well done. That baby’s got a real shot now.”
Praise that would have made me glow for days just a couple of months ago. Now the buzz under my skin barely quieted—not nerves, not quite. More like the echo of last night, still vibrating in my bones.
“Thank you.” I managed a grateful smile. “About that, though—yesterday. Dr. Hayes assisted me. He was… invaluable. Far beyond what you’d expect from a first-year resident.”
Novak watched me, sharp and alert. “And?”
Keep it cool, simple.
“We were in it together. He ran up the blood, then helped me keep her breathing.” I shrugged a careful shoulder and reached for the words that I’d prepared with Shane’s help.
“It wasn’t a senior-junior dynamic in that moment—it couldn’t be.
We were equals trying to keep a baby alive.
After that, I can’t look at him the way I look at the others.
I’m afraid that compromises my ability to evaluate him objectively for the rest of his rotation. ”
There. Neatly packaged, technically honest.
Brief surprise showed on her face. “You want to step back as his supervising fellow.”
“Yes.” I swallowed. “It’s not just about actual bias; it’s also about the perception of it. Dr. Carter would be well placed to take over. I’d still be available for advice, obviously.”
She studied me for a beat, as if trying to assess the things I hadn’t said. No—just guilt-induced paranoia. She had no way of knowing.
“Good surgeons,” she said then, “know when to ask for second opinions. Good educators do the same. Recognizing when you’re compromised is a valuable skill. Hone it.”
Well, given the circumstances, it didn’t take a genius to see that I had no business rating Finn’s performance—not when I could have extended my feedback to what he was like in bed. 10/10, would fuck again. Yeah, that’d raise some eyebrows.
“I’m trying,” I said, with another smile that felt slightly off-kilter. I fought to hold her gaze.
“Good. Inform Carter he’s taking the lead, log the change in the system.
” She paused. “For the Jackson twins—you’re first assist on my side, Hayes is with us.
Dr. Lee is already training his team for the other twin, and he won’t be keen to make a change.
I assume this won’t be an issue?” While phrased like a question, it was clearly meant as an instruction.
“Of course not,” I said.
The surgery wasn’t for a few weeks yet—by then, I’d have my head on straight again. Writing up that one evaluation for Finn would be awkward but not impossible.
“Good,” Novak said, already turning back to her desk. Class dismissed.
I nodded, more to myself, and mumbled a thank-you as I prepared to leave.
“Oh,” she said as if something had only just occurred to her. “And Dr. Maddox?”
I paused halfway to the door.
She gave me a rare smile that softened her features. “This department needs people who think beyond the OR. Keep up the good work, and if we do open an attending spot in winter, you’ll be at the top of our candidate list.”
Oh.
Just… Fuck. I’d been working my ass off for over a year, and it paid off today? When my hands had been on Finn just hours ago—on his skin and in his hair? When I could still taste him on my tongue?
“Thank you.” My throat felt raw even as I reached for a suitably happy, appreciative tone and face. “Means a lot.”
She nodded, message delivered. I left and closed the door behind me, the hallway colder than it had felt before. I stopped beside one of the windows overlooking a drab cityscape and breathed out.
This was the right thing. And it had gone better than I could have hoped—never mind that I felt twisted inside out. Guilt, yes, but somehow it was less about taking Finn home and more about how I couldn’t regret it, even now. How I knew that if he offered again, I’d make the same decision.
It wasn’t like me.
I moved further along the hallway before I pulled out my phone.
Finn’s name had slid down some among my messages—not very far, though, proof that my social circle had shrunk rather too much while I hadn’t been looking.
His last meaningful text was from early August, just before he’d won the competition and things turned into got to ask you something and stolen rooftops.
He’d thanked me for trusting his judgment about who to tell, and that it went both ways.
I’d never mentioned I’d been rooting for him to win. Didn’t matter.
Dr. Carter will take over as your supervising fellow for the rest of your rotation
The words read formal when I felt everything but I sent them anyway, then made myself move.
By the time I stepped off the subway train, Finn still hadn’t responded.