Chapter 31 #2
“How’re you feeling?” I ask gently. I know what it’s like to want something and watch someone else get it… even when they deserve it.
He exhales. “It sucks. Not gonna lie. But I knew it was a long shot. I mean, Brant deserves it. He’s a machine. I’m just… wondering when my shot’ll come.”
“You’ll get there,” I say. “You’re a talented doctor, Mason.”
He nods. “Thanks.”
We finish the ward together, and by the time my shift nears the end, my stomach’s churning again. I need to talk to Brant.
I knock gently on his office door.
He looks up from his desk. “Hey.”
I step in, closing the door behind me. “Congratulations.”
He offers a small, crooked smile. “Thanks.”
God, he’s so handsome when he smiles like that.
He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “How’s it going with Dr. Gould?”
I laugh under my breath. “It’s… alright.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Just alright?”
“It’s not the same.”
“No?”
I shake my head before holding his gaze. “He’s not you.”
I sit across from him, suddenly serious. My fingers twist in my lap, my gaze dropping to the desk between us.
“I need to tell you something.”
His arms unfold slowly, his hands coming to rest on the desk. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. “Okay?”
“New York City Hospital called. They offered me an early position.”
His expression shifts. He leans back slowly, hand running along his jaw. “Oh.”
“My dad’s letting me break my contract,” I add. “I’m leaving this weekend.”
He goes still. His jaw works like he’s biting back words… To ask me to stay? Tell me not to go?
But he doesn’t.
He nods once. “Wow. Okay. That’s… That’s good, right?”
I force a smile. “Yeah. You got chief. I got my dream job. Everything’s falling into place.”
“Right,” he says quietly. “Everything’s… working out.”
Silence stretches between us. So I fill it with the only thing I can say.
“I just wanted to thank you. For mentoring me. Supporting me. Believing in me.”
I want to add… for holding me, for seeing me, and for not asking questions when I needed the distraction, the closeness, the silence between kisses. For making this feel like more, even when we never said it.
But I don’t.
I keep it professional.
His voice is low. “My pleasure. You’re an incredible doctor. New York’s lucky to have you.”
My throat tightens. “I’ll miss…”
I stop myself. I can’t fall apart, not here or in front of him.
“I’ll miss this place,” I finish, swallowing roughly.
“We’ll miss you too.”
I let his words sink in and offer him a smile as my reply, because if I say anything else, I might just break and beg him to ask me to stay. And I can’t do that, not when his dreams just came true, not when being here could put everything he’s worked for at risk.
He smiles back, but it’s not his real smile. There’s a sadness that I know is mirrored in mine. So instead, we stay silent, gaze locked on one another, like we both know this might be the last time.
“Well,” I say, standing and moving to the door. “I’d better go. I’ve got to tell Scarlet. She’s going to be devastated. And Dusty… I don’t know how to tell him I’m leaving.”
“I bet. But she’ll understand and so will Dusty,” he says.
“See you,” I say at the door.
“Yeah. See you.”
I walk away, my footsteps slow, heavy. I tell myself I’m fine. That this is fine.
That this is the right thing. We were just a fling. Why would I stay? He’s not asking me to. Then why doesn’t it sit right?
My emotions flip-flop between heartbreak and adrenaline as Scarlet opens her front door, eyes wide. “Hey! Nice surprise, but what’s with the face?”
“What face?”
She crosses her arms, head tilting, examining me. “That one. The sad one. What did you do?”
“I got a call from New York Hospital. They offered me my position early.”
“No,” she groans, grabbing me into a tight hug. “We still had so much time together. You’re killing me.”
My throat closes up as I hold on to her. “I’m sorry,” I murmur into her shoulder.
She pulls back. “You couldn’t have fallen in love and stayed here? You couldn’t have just… I don’t know… hung out with me forever?”
I laugh. “This is my dream, Scar. You know that.”
“I know,” she sighs, wiping her eyes. “I’m being selfish. Let me be selfish for a second.”
“Of course.”
And I let her.
Because saying goodbye to her hurts, too.
Even if leaving is the right thing, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t tear something out of me.
“Well,” Scarlet says, opening the door wider, “come in and have a wine. Please.”
“Only if you’re having one too,” I say, stepping in and setting my bag down.
She grins. “Obviously. We’ll chat and have wine one last time.”
One last time. Those words hit me harder in the chest.
She heads into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder, “Brant got chief today?”
I smile faintly, leaning on the counter. “Yeah. He did.”
“I’m so happy for him.”
“Me too.” I pick at a stray thread on my sleeve. “Dad was seriously considering giving it to Mason. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Scarlet raises an eyebrow. “Is that right? You stuck up for Brant?”
“Come on, as if I wouldn’t. I just reminded my dad what he already knew. That Brant’s the best person for the job.”
She grabs two glasses from her cabinet and pours the wine.
“Mason’s fine, but he’s not fit to run that ward. Not yet.”
“All right, all right,” she says with a knowing smirk. “Look at you, fighting for your man.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but there’s no bite to it. “He’s not my man.”
“I know. I’m clutching at straws, trying to get you to stay.”
I want to tell her that it’s not that simple, that even if Brant asked me to stay, I don’t know if I could. That I’ve built my entire future around New York, and I can’t just throw it away for something that was never supposed to be permanent.
But I don’t say any of that. Because maybe I’m the one clutching at straws too.
We clink glasses and sip.
There’s a lull as she stirs something on the stove, then she glances at me over her shoulder.
“Well, anyway. We’re gonna miss you.”
“I know.” My voice catches. “I’ll miss you too.”
Scarlet turns the heat down and sets the spoon aside. “What are you actually going to do when you get back to New York?”
“I mean, work, obviously.”
“No, I mean, like… do. What fun things are there waiting for you?”
I laugh. “Oh my God, so many. There’s Central Park in the spring, coffee that costs too much, a thousand museums, restaurants that stay open until two a.m. instead of nine-thirty…”
She grins, but her eyes soften. “It doesn’t have us, though.”
“No,” I say quietly as my chest aches. “It doesn’t.”
She moves to sit across from me at the island, legs crossed under her. “Did you ever see yourself staying here? Like… really staying?”
I hesitate. Then I nod. “I did. Somewhere in the middle of everything, when I wasn’t paying attention, this place started to feel like… home.”
And saying that out loud makes me pause and wonder. When did that happen?
She watches me closely. “So why go?”
I swirl the wine in my glass, thinking about going. “Because I have to try. This dream, I’ve had it for years. And even though I’ve been surprisingly happy here, I can’t ignore that this opportunity is rare. I’d regret not taking it.”
She reaches across and squeezes my hand. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”
“I need to be a little selfish,” I say.
“You’re not selfish. You’re brave. Don’t confuse the two.”
I swallow hard, blinking away the sting behind my eyes. “You’re a really good friend, you know that?”
“Yeah, well, don’t get all weepy on me. You still need to pack.”
I laugh and stand, finishing the last sip of wine. “Thanks for the wine. And the pep talk. And everything else.”
She walks me to the door, her arms tightening around me in one last squeeze.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And just like that, I step out into the cool night air, keys in hand, heart full and fractured all at once. Time to go home and pack.