Chapter 28
Regan
I step into his office, the door clicking softly shut behind me. He looks up from his notes as I approach, his pen stilling mid-sentence.
“You’re making me look bad,” I say, crossing my arms with a teasing tilt of my head.
His eyebrow lifts. “How’s that?”
“You’re always working.”
A smirk creeps across his face. “Guilty. But in my defence, I’ve been... a little distracted lately.”
“Have you now?” I ask, even as my pulse skips.
He hums as I take a few steps toward him. My brain keeps chanting the same warning: We’re at work, so keep your hands to yourself.
I toss my bag to the side, trying to shake it off. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“The usual patient rounds, but I also need to prep for the grand opening on Friday, including writing an article for Pulse Bulletin.”
“Did they decide on a theme?”
He grunts. “Toy Story.”
A grin breaks across my face. “No way. That actually won?”
He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yep. I thought the jungle theme was bad, but this...”
“Hey,” I protest, laughing. “I like it! It hits all the age groups. Everyone loves Toy Story.”
“Apparently not everyone,” he mutters, but his lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile.
I turn toward the door. “All right, I’ll start the coffee. Then we can—”
“Wait.” He reaches into his bag and holds something out. “You might want to take this. Picked up a fresh one on the way in.”
It’s a bottle of creamer. A simple gesture, but one that makes my throat tighten. I take it.
He doesn’t let go right away, his hand closing around mine, and with a quick pull, he draws me toward him. I crash softly against his chest, and before I can speak, his lips find mine.
My hand grips his tie to pull him closer.
His palm cups the side of my face and kisses me reverently, his lips soft and slow, like we have all the time in the world, and for one stupid moment, I forget this is casual and grip onto the hope that this could be more.
Only ten more months, and I’m out of here.
That’s all the time we have left. The thought sits heavy in my chest. I have to be smarter.
Because every time I’m with him like this, I’m making it harder on myself.
I’m digging myself into feelings I can’t afford to have. And when I leave, it’s going to hurt.
“Come on,” I tease. “Let me make us some coffee before someone walks in and sees me trying to seduce my mentor.”
I pull away, but not without a last, lingering glance at the way his tie sits crooked now.
When I return to his office with our coffees, he’s reviewing charts. I casually say, “Oh, by the way, I met your housekeeper.”
His eyebrows lift. “I thought she was starting later.”
I shrug, pretending to focus on stirring. “She’s really sweet. I didn’t tell her anything.”
“She is. I’ll probably have to remind her not to mention you to my parents or anyone else.” It makes sense, because it would make it something we’d have to define, something we’d have to explain.
“You said you’ve had flings before.” I wave him off, still not meeting his eyes. Because I need to know. I need to understand if I’m different.
“Yeah,” he says. “None of them have met anyone close to me.”
I blink, surprised by his honesty. My hand pauses mid-stir. “Oh.”
He straightens the stack of papers on his desk. “Once we’re back from the tour, we’ll go through the list for today. But I want you to take the lead on the patients.”
I look up, smiling. “You sure?”
He nods. “You know how I work now. I trust you.”
There it is again. That word. Trust.
I nod and carry our cups over.
I sit on the opposite side of the desk, putting a much-needed barrier between us, and we run through the patient list.
But I can feel his eyes on me when he thinks I’m not looking.
It’s Friday, the grand opening of the new pediatrics ward, and the hospital is electric.
There are people everywhere, including Pulse Bulletin, who are running around, and there are even some photographers and reporters who have flown in from out of town.
The energy is contagious. This is a huge deal for the hospital and for the community, and I get to be here for it.
I haven’t seen much of Brant this morning. We’re both back on day shifts, and with all the board members, chiefs, and my dad around, we’ve barely crossed paths.
The second I spot Scarlet, Dusty, and Greer walking down the corridor, I break into a light jog, weaving through people and dodging a photographer.
“Hey!” I call out, throwing my arms around Scarlet.
She lets out a small squeal of delight and hugs me tight.
Her parents walk behind them, and I hug them, too, swept up in the moment.
“I’m so excited to see the final result,” I say, breathless with genuine joy.
Scarlet leans back, eyes wide. “You haven’t seen it yet? Not even a sneak peek?”
“I walked through it with Brant.” I smile.
Her grin stretches wide. “Dusty and I are very excited.”
I glance down, grinning. Dusty’s dressed head to toe like Buzz Lightyear.
“Well, looks like Buzz is leading the way today.” I wink at him, and he beams up at me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a familiar figure. Brant. He’s standing with other department heads, arms crossed, shoulders squared. Conversation swirls around him, but his gaze is locked on me.
I look away quickly, cheeks heating. He really should stop doing that. If someone notices…
The crowd begins to gather as my dad steps forward to a long red ribbon that stretches across the entrance, followed by Dr. Gould and a few other ward chiefs, board members, and the Kings.
My dad takes the scissors and smiles for photos. I watch him, and something warm swells in my chest. I’m proud of him and proud to be here. He cuts the ribbon, and I applaud with the rest of the room.
This is what it’s all about. Knowing that lives will be saved here. And I get to be a part of it. Even if just for a few more months.
I glance around at the joy on people’s faces, noting the pride, and for some, the pure exhaustion from all the early mornings, meetings, and paperwork to get here.
Then I glance back at Brant.
He’s still watching me, but people move forward, cutting off my view.
I follow Scarlet and her family into the new wing.
Light spills in from oversized windows, catching on the glossy floors.
The walls are painted in warm pastels. The rooms are bright and fresh, with updated equipment and wider beds.
The nurses’ station is sleek and modern, with two extra offices tucked behind glass partitions.
“No more trips out of town,” I say to Scarlet, my voice catching in my throat. Because I’m thinking about all the families who’ve had to make that terrible choice. “Not just for you, but for so many families.”
She nods, eyes misty. “It’s exciting. Really exciting.”
I pull her into another hug, squeezing tightly.
We keep walking, passing a polished plaque with her family name engraved at the bottom. Pride rushes through me for what they’ve done.
“I can’t wait for the party tonight,” I say.
“Dr. Thomas.” My dad’s voice cuts through the noise, and my heart jumps. I turn, already composing my expression into something professional.
I turn toward him. “Yes?”
“We need a photo. You too, Mr. and Mrs. King and family.”
We head back toward the front of the wing, pausing where the light’s best and the media waits. I pose, smile in place, but then I feel a gentle brush at the small of my back.
I stiffen. Then inhale.
Clean, classic, woody, and fresh. Brant.
My smile widens. I don’t have to turn around. I know it’s him.
Leaning into him ever so slightly, my body curves subtly toward his as the photographer counts down. Brant suddenly moves his mouth close enough to whisper something in my ear.
Click.
Another photo. Another touch, his hand lingering at my waist, warm through the fabric of my scrubs.
Click.
He doesn’t stop.
Click.
Every picture, he’s right there, close enough to set my nerves humming, but just far enough to make it look innocent.
I should move.
But I don’t.
Not even a little.
I should remind him that he’s risking a lot.
He’s so close to being named chief any day now. But instead of pulling back, he keeps crossing the line, and I let him.
“Well,” I say, turning to Scarlet with a reluctant sigh, “I guess I should do some actual work now.”
“It was so good seeing you,” she says as she pulls me in for another quick hug. “I’ll see you at the party tonight?”
“You sure will.”
“Want a lift there?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’ll probably go in with Dad or drive myself.”
She nods. “Alright. I’ll catch you later.”
“Okay, bye.” I wave at her, then give Dusty a quick wave. “See you later, Buzz.”
I head off, trying to slip back into the clinical mindset, reviewing my patient list, checking in at the nurses’ station, doing the rounds. But the day passes with adrenaline and excitement.
I cross paths with Brant once more during the afternoon round, where we maintain perfect professional distance.
Later that night, I finally make it home.
The front door clicks shut behind me as I step inside, slipping off my shoes with a relieved sigh. I barely get a second to breathe before I hear my dad’s voice float in from the kitchen.
“Nice car,” he says, by way of greeting.
My spine stiffens.
Shit. I knew this was coming.
“Thanks,” I reply casually, setting my bag down. “It’s just a loan.”
He doesn’t respond. When I glance his way, his eyes are narrowed, the corner of his mouth tight. That look… it’s the one that always makes my neck prickle. Suspicion. Or maybe it’s just my guilt projecting itself all over his face. Either way, it swirls uneasily in my stomach.
He sees too much. Always has.
“I’ve got to head in early,” he says, checking his watch. “You’ll have to drive yourself, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, of course.” I force a smile.
“Please choose something respectable to wear.”
Ouch.