Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Chloe
The weirdest part isn’t that I almost died. It’s how fast the hospital forgets it happened.
By the time I swing my legs off the bed, the shift change has already started. Someone’s already disinfected the floor I bled on. A junior doctor strolls past eating a granola bar, scrolling through his phone. No one would guess this place was evacuated just hours ago.
That’s the ER for you. Crisis cleaned up before the coffee brews.
When I ease upright, every part of me protests. My shoulder throbs in slow, mean waves. My joints creak. My eyelids feel sandpapered. But I’m standing. I’m not dead and that’s got to count for something.
Zac’s hand reaches out, palm up.
I slide mine into his.
And we fit.
I stare at our joined hands. His fingers laced through mine is something stupidly normal. Strangely domestic. We could be heading to brunch; instead, we’re shuffling away, battered and bruised.
“You ready?” he asks.
“God, yes,” I exhale.
We step into the corridor together, fingers still linked, and my stomach somersaults. He hasn’t let me go. Not even with everyone watching.
Fresh-faced staff move past us—scrubs still crisp, ponytails high, sneakers still white.
A few people glance our way. One nurse gives a quick nod—half sympathy, half glad it wasn’t me.
I probably look like hell.
Hair wild, dried blood streaks down my arm, scrubs torn at the shoulder and soaked through in patches.
Zac doesn’t look much better. He’s still in the same stained scrubs. His jaw’s tight, his neck mottled from stress. But he walks beside me, not afraid of showing everyone he’s with me.
We pass Central, where Olivia’s aggressively shaking cinnamon into her coffee.
“You two finally heading out?”
Zac nods. “Trying to.”
Her eyes flick to our joined hands. “Hydrate. Sleep. Maybe try therapy. Or tequila. Either one.”
“Why not both?” I mutter.
“I like the way you think.” She winks.
I manage a small smile.
Then Olivia smirks, eyes gleaming. “Now, tell lover boy to bring you back in one piece. I’m not pulling a double shift because you two thought near-death was foreplay.”
Zac coughs a laugh. I squeeze his hand tighter.
We’re almost at the exit when I spot Jax by the vending machines, squinting at the choices.
“Give me a second.” I look up at Zac.
He nods and hangs back.
I approach Jax, and he glances over, raising a brow. “You’re still upright. Impressive.”
“Barely.” I ease myself onto the bench beside the machine. “Trying not to leak out of my bandage.”
He chuckles and crouches to retrieve two water bottles from the slot at the bottom, then joins me on the bench.
“Hydration,” he says, handing one over. “Doctor’s orders.”
I accept it and twist off the cap, the cool condensation making my fingers slippery. “Thanks.” I take a long sip and exhale. The corridor’s quieter now.
“You all right?” he asks casually, but he’s watching me closely. He already knows the answer, but he wants to see if I’ll say it out loud.
“I will be,” I share after a pause.
He bobs his head and looks away, tapping his fingers against his thigh. “That was a shitty day.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“Not exactly how I pictured our first shift going.”
“Same,” I say. “I was hoping for a celebratory muffin.”
He chuckles, then sobers up. “You scared the shit out of us, you know.”
“Yeah. I scared the shit out of me, too.”
Another long pause stretches. Then he turns slightly toward me.
“You and Zac,” he begins. “You’re a thing now?”
I glance down at the water bottle in my hands, turning it over once. “We’re figuring it out.”
“You know how it’s gonna look, right?” he asks gently. “Intern with the head of department? People are gonna talk.”
I look up at him. “I didn’t plan on this. I didn’t even know he worked here. But…” I exhale and reach up to smooth the frizz in my hair. “We’ll find a way.”
Jax studies me a moment longer, then shrugs. “As long as they’ve stopped talking about me face-planting in Trauma, I’m good.”
I snort. “Please. I’m happy to take the heat. Consider it a public service.”
Then he grins. “Sienna’s gonna have a field day with this.”
“Oh, I know,” I groan. “She’s gonna make us a group chat. And memes. Probably merch.”
“She’s already designing a logo.”
I shake my head, but the smile won’t leave my face.
He nudges me lightly, avoiding my shoulder. “Just… be careful, okay?”
“I will.”
We sit there for a moment in the quietness of the corridor. Then I rise, slow and stiff, my shoulder protesting. Jax stands with me, offering a quiet nod.
“Rest up. Catch you next week?”
“I’ll be here.”
I turn to the exit with Zac by my side, the hospital doors sliding open with a soft sigh.
Outside, the sky is ink black, the moon and stars smothered in clouds.
The parking lot is empty, and we cross in silence. Zac’s thumb brushes over mine as we walk. He hasn’t said much since we left the bay, but his presence is louder than words.
As we reach the edge of the lot, he stops.
“You okay?” I wait, brows drawing together.
He shifts to face me, our hands still linked. His mouth twitches, trying to fight a smile.
“Wanna go on a date?”
I blink. “Sorry—what?”
He smiles—a little. That lazy, sideways thing he does. “Let’s go on a date. Right now.”
I stare at him. “Is this a joke? After the day we just had?”
His voice drops low. “Why not? Life’s too fucking short, and I’ve been waiting months for you to make the first move, and it turns out”—he squeezes my hand—“you’re too chicken shit. So. Here we are.”
My mouth drops open. “I am not—”
He lifts a finger to gently press it against my lips. “Shhh. You’re adorable when you lie.”
I laugh despite myself. Exhausted and aching, but laughing somehow.
He grins. “My place. I’ll make you a late dinner—a gourmet, medically approved purée.”
“If you serve me soup with a straw, I’m walking into traffic,” I warn.
He chuckles. “Then we’ll crash. No phones. No pagers. No alarms. Only you and me, passed out in my Californian king, drifting off into oblivion.”
That. Sounds. Fucking. Amazing.
“Is it weird that I think that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said?”
He leans in, mouth brushing my ear. “And when we wake up… I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. I’ll show you exactly what it feels like to fuck when you’re in love.”
My brain short-circuits.
Did he—
Was that—
He pulls back, eyes locked on mine.
“I love you, Chloe. So fucking much.”
My heart lurches. I don’t breathe.
He said it. He actually said it.
Zac surges forward, tugging me by my good arm, his grin breaking wide and real across his face.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
And we do.
Hand in hand.
Bruised and bandaged, but moving forward—with every scar out in the open.