Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Zac
For fuck’s sake.
First, the kid faints in my trauma room, and now Ellis goes and drops an oxygen tank on her foot. My team is dropping like flies.
I rip off my gloves, dump them in the bio bin, and push open the staff lounge door with my shoulder.
“Ellis,” I call out.
She’s on the couch, a bare foot propped up on a rolled-up towel, a half-melted ice pack clenched in both hands. Her ponytail’s lopsided, cheeks flushed.
“It’s my toe,” she groans before I can ask. “Throbbing like a bitch.”
I crouch beside her and pull on a new pair of gloves.
“Let me take a look.”
Under the nail, her toe’s black, but there’s no swelling. I guide her through a few movement checks, watching her face for pain.
“The good news is there’s no break. The bad news is that we’ll need to drain the pressure under the nail to ease the throbbing.”
She winces. “Great. I’m such a dumbass. I’m so sorry.”
“Accidents happen. Don’t beat yourself up. Try not to pick fights with oxygen tanks next time.”
Her mouth twitches.
“And how do I relieve the pressure? Scalpel?”
I raise a brow. “That’d be overkill. Something a lot simpler, but you’re still not going to like it.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Stay put.”
I head out toward the supply cabinet, weaving through the usual ER madness. Crouching next to the cabinet, I rummage through drawers until I locate a paperclip and a small butane torch.
WHUP-WHUP.
Something flaps. Hard.
I freeze.
“Oh, fuck no.”
Perched on the curtain rail of bay two is a judgmental feathered gargoyle, glaring down at me. Sonny is back.
We lock eyes.
I don’t move. Neither does he.
He fluffs his wings slowly. Menacingly. Like he’s winding up for a second round.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I mutter.
He tilts his head.
I grab what I need in one hand and slowly back away, maintaining eye contact like I’m dealing with a velociraptor.
He doesn’t follow. Just watches me retreat. He’s probably disappointed I didn’t offer a proper challenge.
Back in the staff room, I hold up the paperclip and torch.
Ellis stares. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious.”
I straighten the clip and spark the torch until the end glows orange. The hiss of heat hits my ears. That acrid scent of burning metal curls into the air, biting at the back of my throat.
“On three,” I say, voice firm. She flinches back slightly from the glow, eyes wide. I don’t wait. “One, two—”
She yelps as I quickly push the tip through her nail. Blood spills out, bright and thick.
“Ow, Jesus—” Then she exhales. “Actually… that’s starting to feel better.”
I hand her a dressing pack. “Wrap it up and get back out there. You good?”
She nods, already reaching for the gauze. “I’m good.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Dr. Ellis.”
I step into the corridor and finally head toward the one thing I’ve needed since noon: a goddamn piss.
Should’ve gone when I was in my office with Chloe, but things escalated and… I got distracted.
I’m halfway to the staff bathroom when I spot Jaxon—head down, pacing nervously near the curtain of bay twelve, a chart clutched in his hand. His eyes flick toward me, then away.
He’s about to do something stupid.
I sigh and reroute. My bladder can wait. Again.
“Everything okay, Dr. Wells?”
He startles, eyes wide.
Definitely about to do something dumb.
“Oh. Uh. Yes. I mean—sort of? I’ve got a patient with chest tightness and dizziness. No cardiac history, stable vitals, but she’s convinced she’s having a heart attack.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-one. No significant history. No risk factors.”
“ECG?”
“Clean. Troponins ordered. Just came back—negative.”
I nod. “Anxious presentation?”
He exhales. “Says she’s been having palpitations for weeks. Thinks she has some rare heart condition TikTok convinced her of.”
Ah, the new age of medicine.
“Let’s take a look.”
We pull back the curtain. A young woman sits upright in bed, clutching her chest. Eyes wide. Breathing shallow.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Zac. Mind if I ask you a couple more questions?”
She seems nervous, bobbing her head. “Is it my heart? I googled it, and everything matches.”
“I hear you,” I offer calmly. “But your ECG is clear, and your bloodwork looks good. No signs of a heart attack.”
“But it still feels tight.”
“Anxiety can do that,” I suggest. “Have you had any major stressors lately? Lack of sleep? Caffeine?”
She hesitates. “Finals. And my boyfriend broke up with me last week. I haven’t eaten much in a couple days.”
I nod slowly. “This is your body’s reaction to the pressure. It’s normal, even if it doesn’t feel that way.”
“So I’m not dying?”
“Not today. But let’s make a deal: water, food, and at least six hours of sleep. Come back if things get worse.”
She relaxes slightly. Jaxon watches, taking it all in.
Outside the curtain, I clap him on the shoulder. “Your instincts weren’t wrong. You did everything right. Now, add context to the data. Not all chest pain is cardiac.”
He nods, visibly relieved.
Then he blurts, “Hey, uh… can I ask something weird?”
Here we go.
“Shoot.”
“Is Dr. Monroe your ex or something?”
I blink. Hard.
“What makes you ask that?”
He flushes immediately. “I mean—sorry, that’s none of my business. I just—when she walked in this morning, you both looked like someone had dropped a defibrillator in a bathtub. I’ve never seen two people avoid each other’s eyes that hard.”
I bark a laugh despite myself. “Good diagnosis.”
He grins, sheepish. “So?”
I consider it. The kid’s green, but not stupid. And this ER has ears.
“We’ve… crossed paths.”
He nods, clearly dying for more but smart enough not to press.
“Back to work, Dr. Wells.”
“Yes, sir.”
He scurries off, and I finally—finally—make it to the staff bathroom. And it’s damn near spiritual. I brace one hand on the wall, groan under my breath, and let the tension drain out of my shoulders. Ten seconds of silence and relief. Best part of my shift.
Well. Not quite.
Coming in Chloe’s panties wins. She better still be wearing me—my mess—under those scrubs.
I zip up, rinse off, and step into the corridor again, refocused, only to be stopped cold.
Sienna.
She’s elbow-deep in a central line insertion. Solo.
Fucking hell.
Every instinct goes on high alert. This isn’t just cocky; it’s reckless.
I’ve seen what happens when confidence trumps caution.
I’ve held the hands of grieving families while we tell them their loved one didn’t make it, knowing full well it was because an intern thought they knew better. Not on my shift.
I stride over. “Dr. Rhodes—update me.”
She doesn’t flinch, simply rattles it off. “Septic shock. BP tanked, heart rate spiked, skin mottled. Administering norepinephrine.”
She pushes the meds through the IV while a nurse calls out, “BP’s coming up. Stabilizing.”
I clock the tremor in her left hand as she tapes the line. Her brow’s damp, a fine sheen collecting at her hairline. The tension in the bay coils tight—like the moment before a code blue.
“Good save. Chase the blood cultures—we need to ID the bacteria. Start broad-spectrum antibiotics.”
She nods. But she knows she crossed a line.
From across the ER comes that same screech that’s haunted me all day. “HELP ME!”
My jaw locks. “Why is that fucking bird still here?” I mutter under my breath, already heading to Central.
“Olivia, get all junior doctors into the staff lounge. Now.”
“Got it, boss.” She salutes.
By the time I hit the staff room, the juniors are assembled.
They straighten when I step in.
“Okay, everyone, quick huddle,” I announce. “Listen up.”
I look at them—bright-eyed, green as hell, buzzing from adrenaline. They don’t know how fast things can go sideways. Yet. I want to shake them and protect them in the same breath. God help me, I think I actually care about this lot.
“This is a teaching hospital, and you’re here to learn. You are not here to show off or pretend you know more than you do. Because you don’t. None of us does. I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m still learning every day.”
I sweep my gaze across them. Chloe. Jaxon. Sienna. Hannah.
“The moment you stop learning is the moment you should quit. You’re going to make mistakes. Try not to make them fatal. But if you do, own it, learn from it, and move forward. That’s how we do it. But if I catch anyone ignoring protocols—performing procedures unsupervised—you’re out. Am I clear?”
Their heads all bob in understanding.
“You’re dismissed. Doctors Ellis and Rhodes, stay back.”
Jaxon files out with his head low. Chloe meets my eyes—for a second—then quickly looks away, following him without a word. Not angry or cold. But… distant. I know what avoidance looks like.
What the hell did I miss?
I turn to Hannah. “Status on the parrot patient? I honestly can’t take that damn bird screeching for help again.”
“Ready to go. I was on my way to discharge her.”
Thank fuck for small mercies. “Thank you, Dr. Ellis.”
As soon as she leaves, Sienna doesn’t wait for an invitation.
“I knew what I was doing,” she fires off, arms crossed like a shield. “I’ve seen it done a dozen times.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And that qualifies you to do it alone?”
“I reacted,” she snaps. “The patient was crashing—what was I supposed to do, wait for backup while he died?”
“There’s a difference between reacting and playing cowboy,” I growl. “You wouldn’t be the first intern to panic under pressure. You could’ve hit the lung. Missed the vein. Caused an embolism. Do you know how many ways that could’ve gone wrong?”
She opens her mouth to argue—then clamps it shut.
Her eyes flick away. And I see it land. The weight of what could have happened. The trace of shame beneath the bravado.
I drop my tone, but not my intensity.
“You do not touch a central line again unless you’re supervised. Understood?”
She nods stiffly, swallowing hard. “Yes, Doctor.”
“Good.” She still looks stunned, but I let her sit with it. Better to feel it now than freeze in the next code. Rules exist for a reason. And I’m not here to coddle anyone, I’m here to teach. This is how people die—when someone thinks the rules don’t apply to them.
I scrub a hand over my jaw, exhaling hard. That’s my job—holding the line, even when it makes me the asshole in the room.
When I step back into the department, my focus shifts the second I catch sight of Chloe. She’s at Central, already walking toward a bay, head down.
Not yet.
I jog to catch her.
“Hey,” I call. “Can we talk?”
She stops but doesn’t turn. Just stands there a moment before slowly facing me. “Sure. What’s up?”
“In private.” I scan for an open trauma room and gesture toward one. “In here.”
We duck inside, and the air constricts.
I step closer. “Are you okay?”
She crosses her arms. “Yep.”
“You sure?”
A shrug. “Yeah. Why?”
I search her face, trying to read past the mask. “No reason. It… doesn’t hurt to check in. It’s part of my job.”
She flashes a smile, all teeth and tension. “Then you’ve done your due diligence, Doctor. I’m fine.”
Doctor? What the fuck?
That smile’s too polite. I’ve seen her real one, the one that lights up her eyes.
This isn’t that. She’s slipping behind glass, shutting the door from the inside. I can’t lose her, too. Not when I’ve only just started figuring out what the hell this even is.
She turns to leave, and instinct takes over. My hand lands on her forearm—warm, soft, a little clammy. Her skin jolts beneath my touch like she wasn’t expecting it. Neither was I.
I smell the faintest trace of her shampoo, a clean citrusy scent that’s familiar. Impossible to ignore.
“Are you pissed that I accidentally called you Gigi?”
She stops and exhales deeply through her nose before turning around. “No. No one knows what it means. They probably think you forgot my name.” She tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite land.
I don’t care what anyone else thinks. What matters is her. Why she’s closing herself off from me.
“Then what is it? And don’t lie to me again.”
She looks up at me, and there it is. The wall. The flicker of sadness behind her eyes. Hurt.
“Now’s not the time, Zac.”
She says my name softly, and it slides under my ribs and lodges there.
“Later, then?”
She hesitates long enough for it to sting.
“Later, I promise.”
She walks out, closing the curtain behind her. I don’t follow. Don’t move. I stand there, stuck in place.
That wasn’t a brush-off. That was a retreat. And I felt it in my bones.
What the fuck has happened?
I know how to stop a heart. Restart a lung. Clamp an artery with seconds to spare. But I don’t know how to stop this. Whatever just slipped between us?
It felt a lot like the beginning of goodbye.