Chapter 12 #2
I glance down the hall, checking for passing staff, buying myself time I don’t deserve. When I look back at her, her expression has shifted again—not hurt yet, but close. Like she’s standing on the edge of it.
“I’m trying to keep things clean,” I say.
Her eyes widen a fraction. “Clean?”
“Professional,” I correct myself.
Something flickers across her face. Understanding, followed quickly by disappointment.
“I never crossed a line,” she says quietly.
I know. That’s the problem. Because no lines were crossed and I still can’t help the feelings building inside of me.
“I didn’t say you did.”
“But you’re treating me like I did,” she replies.
The words settle between us. They are heavy and undeniable. I take a step back without meaning to.
Her shoulders lift with a small inhale, like she’s steadying herself. “Okay,” she says. “I needed to know if this was in my head.”
“It’s not,” I admit.
Her gaze snaps back to mine. “Then what is it?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because the truth is too sharp. Because if I say it, I won’t be able to pretend anymore.
She nods slowly, like she’s reached her own conclusion without my help.
“Right,” she says. “Got it.”
“Melissa—”
She gives a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. The kind nurses use when they’re swallowing emotions they don’t have time to feel.
“I’ll check on Frank again in an hour,” she says, already stepping past me. “Call if you need anything.”
She walks away. She doesn’t look back. And for the first time since this started, I don’t feel relieved by the distance. I feel the loss of it.
After I’ve done my first rounds in the morning, I find myself eager to go back to 447. Melissa is standing outside of his room, eyes down on her tablet.
“How’s he doing?” I ask softly next to her.
Frank’s voice reaches us before she can even respond.
“Are you two done whispering secrets out there, or am I officially being neglected?”
Melissa lets out a soft laugh. I don’t miss the way it slips out before she can stop it. That sound loosens the tight knot in my chest.
“We’re coming, Frank,” she says as she steps back into the room.
“Good,” he grumbles. “Because if this is how you treat your favorite patient, I’d hate to see the rest.”
I follow her in, closing the door behind us.
Frank squints at me. “You look tense, Doc. You need a drink.”
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“All the best decisions are made before noon,” he counters.
Melissa snorts. There it is again.
I move toward the foot of the bed, flipping open his chart. “How are you feeling now?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he says. “But a charming one.”
Melissa checks his IV with practiced ease. “Pain still a six?”
“Five,” he amends. “But only because you’re standing there.”
She rolls her eyes. “Flattery will not get you extra meds.”
“It might get me dessert,” he shoots back.
I glance at her. “Did dietary ever bring that tray you ordered?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I’ll follow up.”
Frank waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t bother. I’m saving room for something better.”
“Oh?” she asks. “And what would that be?”
He grins. “Whatever you’re sneaking me later.”
Melissa laughs outright this time. I catch myself smiling before I can stop it.
After we finish the exam, Melissa steps out to update the chart at the nurses’ station. I linger near her longer than necessary, making a show of reviewing labs I’ve already memorized.
Frank watches me with far too much interest.
“You know,” he says, “you’re not as subtle as you think.”
I don’t look up. “About what?”
“About her.”
I finally meet his gaze. He’s still smiling, but there’s a sharpness there now.
“She’s special,” he continues. “You don’t get nurses like that often. The kind who talk to you like you’re still a person.”
I close the chart. “I know.”
“Then don’t screw it up,” he says simply.
I leave before I can respond, before I admit the dangerous truth that I haven’t yet admitted to myself.
The nurses’ station is busier now. Phones ringing. Keyboards clicking. Controlled chaos. Melissa is standing at the counter, focused on the screen in front of her. Her hair has come loose from its neat bun, a few strands falling around her face.
I stop beside her. Not across from her, beside her.
She glances up, surprise flickering across her features before she schools it away. “Did you need something?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I say lightly. “Frank’s convinced you’re smuggling him contraband.”
Her lips twitch. “I would never.”
“Liar,” I say as I try to hide the smile that wants to creep up.
She turns her body slightly toward me, and the space between us narrows. Not enough to draw attention. Enough to feel intentional.
“I did promise him dessert if he behaved,” she admits.
I raise a brow. “Bribery. Bold choice.”
“It works,” she says. “On most of my patients.”
Her eyes meet mine. They’re warmer now. Easier.
“And on you?” I ask before I can stop myself while I cross my arms across my chest.
She stills for half a second as she follows my movements, then meets my eyes.
Then she smiles slowly. “Depends what you’re offering.”
Heat curls low in my stomach. I didn’t expect her response or what it would make me feel.
I clear my throat as I try to recover. “I meant professionally.”
“Of course you did,” she replies quickly, turning back to the computer. But not before I catch the faint flush creeping up her neck.
“Melissa,” I say quietly.
She looks up again.
“Thank you,” I add. “For today. For … Frank.”
Her expression softens. “You’re welcome.”
I hesitate. Then I nod and step away. But this time, when I do, it doesn’t feel like retreat. It feels like consideration.