Thirty
Greyson
I settle into a utilitarian blue plastic chair in Mercy Hospital’s cafeteria, the aroma of strong coffee in the air. Across from me sits Chance Devereaux, Chief of Emergency Medicine, and Griffin. Instead of the stern interrogation I prepared for, the vibe is unexpectedly laid-back, their smiles warm and inviting.
“Greyson,” Chance says, sliding a tray of sandwiches toward me, “we’re not just looking for a set of skilled hands here at Mercy. We’re looking for someone who can dive into the weeds with us.”
Griffin chuckles, his eyes crinkling. “It’s a family here. We fight, we laugh, we save lives together.”
As I take a bite of turkey on rye, Chance continues. “We see around one hundred and fifty-six thousand patients annually,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact .
I nod, absorbing the heft of those numbers as my gaze shifts to the bustling cafeteria. Around us, staff moves with purpose. “You must be a well-oiled machine,” I comment.
“Sure, but even well-oiled machines need constant maintenance,” Griffin notes. “Especially with the three twelve-hour shifts we ask of all our docs each week. It’s demanding work but rewarding.”
Chance’s expression sobers a fraction. “We could always use more nurses, though. We’re running with eighteen now.”
I nod, understanding the strain understaffing can bring. The knowledge settles in my gut, heavy but not unwelcome. Here, I could make a difference. I’d be needed. And if being needed also means I can be closer to Trinity, Mercy might just become my new home.
I swirl the ice in my nearly empty glass, watching as Chance Devereaux’s eyes light up. “You haven’t seen anything until you’ve worked a night shift here at Mercy,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips.
“More happens at night?” I ask.
“Absolutely,” Griffin chimes in. “It’s like the city saves all its surprises for us until after dark. And don’t get me started on full moons.”
“Superstition or not, it does seem to hold true.” Chance leans back, arms crossed over his chest. “On those nights, the ED becomes a theater where the bizarre and chaotic take center stage.”
“Full moons,” I repeat, shaking my head with a chuckle. “We find the same in Paradise, although, somehow, I suspect it’s rather tame in comparison.”
“Wait until you’ve seen it,” Chance advises with a knowing look.
I consider this, the challenge of the unknown sparking more excitement than fear within me. Trinity loves the unpredictability of her city. Maybe I can find the allure in it too. I did go to med school here.
Chance’s demeanor shifts, and he adopts a more business-like tone as he addresses the logistics of the position. “In terms of patient load, you might see anywhere between fifteen to twenty patients on a shift, depending on the day and what rolls through those doors.”
“Sounds intense,” I say.
“Intense, but manageable, especially with your experience,” Chance assures me. “Initially, we’d start you on day shifts, which admittedly do pay less. But with what you bring to the table, you’ll be making what you’re used to, salary-wise.”
The mention of compensation brings a stark reality into focus—the cost of living in Vancouver. It’s a steep climb from what I’m accustomed to in Paradise. But when I think of Trinity, of the life we could build here, the numbers lose their edge.
“I’m fine with that,” I confirm.
“Good to hear,” Chance says as he nods. “I hope you’ll consider it. Mercy could use someone with your dedication.”
“Thanks,” I reply, feeling the weight of the decision settle firmly on my shoulders. It’s a weight I’m ready to bear.
Chance leans back. “What’s pushing you to leave Paradise?” he probes.
My palms feel suddenly clammy against the cool surface of the table. It’s the question I’ve been preparing for, the one that cuts closest to the bone.
“I met someone,” I explain, the words tethered to the pulse of my heart, which quickens at the mention of her. “Her life is here in Vancouver. And she means everything to me.”
There’s a moment of silence as the information sinks in. I watch their reactions, see the understanding dawn in their eyes. Chance nods, and Griffin’s posture relaxes.
He chuckles softly. “Welcome to the club, man.”
Their camaraderie warms me from within, and I can’t help but smile back.
“Guess we’re all fools for love in our own ways,” Chance adds with a wink .
We stand and gather our trash from the tabletop. They lead me out of the cafeteria, past the buzz of hospital life that never truly quiets, and into the emergency department, the doors swinging open to reveal the controlled chaos within.
“Take a look around, Greyson,” Chance gestures expansively.
I step into the flow, dodging an EMT barreling through with a gurney. Nurses pivot gracefully among the stretchers lined up as if in battle formations, each patient an individual story waiting to unfold.
Griffin points out the trauma bays, where the most critical cases are sent, a dance of life and death played out under harsh white lights. We weave through the packed space, and I’m introduced to snippets of lives in progress—a mother clutching her child’s hand, a young man with a bandage wrapped around his head, an elderly woman with eyes clouded by confusion.
“This is what we do,” Griffin says proudly. “And we do it well.”
“We could use your expertise,” Chance reiterates, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
I nod, taking it all in—the sounds, the sights, the unmistakable pulse of urgency that permeates the air. It’s a far cry from Paradise, but it’s not unfamiliar, and the challenge ignites something within me.
“Looks like a place I could belong,” I confirm. And as the tour concludes, the thought of Trinity’s smile, the life we might share here, fills me with a sense of purpose I haven’t felt in years.
Chance turns to me with a congenial smile. “Thank you for coming in today.” He extends a hand, and between his fingers is a business card. “If you’re interested in joining us, we’d be thrilled to have someone with your qualifications on board.”
I take the card and slip it into my pocket. As our hands part, there’s a sense of finality. It all depends on what happens tonight. “Thanks, Dr. Devereaux. I’ll let you know.”
With a nod, he steps back, allowing me the space to process everything I’ve seen today. Griffin puts his hand to his face in the shape of a phone and mouths, Call me .
Turning on my heel, I make my way out of Mercy Hospital, the sliding doors giving way to the world outside. The air hits differently here, heavy with the hum of life and the hint of salt water. It’s so different from the tranquil peace of Paradise.
My thoughts move to Trinity, her laugh, the way it warms me like sunlight breaking through clouds. I think of her determination, her fire, and the way she makes me want to be someone worthy of standing beside her. For her, I’d trade the comfort of Paradise for the unknown, no matter how daunting it feels. I could get used to this relentless energy. For her, I would embrace the unfamiliar, dive into this ocean.
The decision settles within me like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. Yes, it’s different here—intimidatingly so—but the thought of being with Trinity, building something real and tangible, gives rise to a courage I hadn’t known lingered in my veins.
The skyline of Vancouver stretches out before me, a sea of glass and steel reflecting the golden light of the sun. It’s beautiful, in its way, though a stark contrast to the rolling hills of Paradise Hill, the vineyard, and the life I’ve always known. I can see Trinity’s world, her life, and for the first time, I realize how small mine feels in comparison. I take a deep breath. This is a drastic change. What comes next?
I love her. I’ve never been more sure of anything. But I also know I’ve been asking her to fit into my world, to change her life for me. And that’s not fair.
She’s shown me that love isn’t about safety. It’s about risk. It’s about stepping into the unknown because the person you’re stepping with is worth it.
So I’m moving here. To Vancouver. To be with her. If she’ll have me.
She’s my life now. The vineyard will survive without me there so often. The hospital will find someone else to fill my shoes. But I can’t imagine my life without Trinity. I don’t want to.
For the first time, the idea of leaving everything I’ve ever known doesn’t feel like a loss. It feels like a leap.