Chapter 5
FIVE
DEAN
My sister’s timing was uncanny.
You lied to me.
Four words, no further explanation, that arrived right as I left the locker room—my last day of work before the wedding trip, still tugging the hem of my scrub top into place.
Well, fuck.
No—it might be harmless. Charley had a flair for hyperbole, so this could just be about packing early, or dry-cleaning my suit, or some photo of Tay she’d inevitably unearthed, realizing he was more than just “decent looking.” She’d see any of that as an invitation to blow things wildly out of proportion. So. Possibly harmless.
Unfortunately, that was when Gregg rounded the corner in a mess of rumpled clothes and wild-eyed urgency. He looked left, then right, then gripped my arm and dragged me into an empty on-call room.
“Fuck, man.” Guilt rolled off him in waves as he let go of me. “I’m so fucking sorry. Really, I am.”
My stomach dropped. “You told Charley.”
Not a question, but he nodded anyway, shifting from foot to foot.
“No! Well… yes, but she called me. Said you’d gone all evasive and she wanted proof Tay actually exists.
So I bombarded her with details, right? How you met, why you’re keeping it quiet, how he’s got a key to your place. I was trying to help, yeah?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What happened?”
“Started talking about your first vacation together—except I blanked. Like, couldn’t remember what we’d said.
And I tried to gloss it over, right? Joked about how I had a shit memory for places, but I probably overdid it, and she just goes silent for a second, all meaningful.
And then she went, all calm and stuff: ‘Gregg, you’re lying. ’”
“Ah, shit.” I sighed, and Gregg spread his arms, palms up.
“I’m just really terrible under pressure.”
“You’re a doctor. Pressure comes with the job.”
“Different kind of pressure, man. Your sister is terrifying. And a lawyer.”
Fair enough.
“I’m really fucking sorry,” he repeated, all sheepish like a guilty puppy in too-large scrubs.
Frustration simmered in my gut, but it wasn’t at him, not really—Charley was a force of nature, easily the smartest person I knew, and I couldn’t blame Gregg for caving.
Mom, though—she was the reason for this whole thing, and I didn’t want to kickstart her worries into overdrive.
Charley, though? That was different. She wasn’t just my sister—she was my post-apocalypse foxhole buddy, a formidable prank-war opponent, one of only two people who truly understood what it had taken to rebuild something close to normal.
She’d get this, too, get why I wouldn’t want Mom to carry any unnecessary weight.
Hopefully.
“Not your fault,” I told Gregg, pulling my phone out.
“Kind of my fault,” he corrected as I quickly typed out a message to Charley.
You know how Mom worries—that’s why I’m doing it. Please don’t tell her. About to start shift, talk later?
I won’t tell Mom
Charley replied within a minute.
Just can’t decide if I’m insulted you left me out of the loop or impressed you’re trying to pull this off. This is bigger than when we convinced Mom I was addicted to eating candle wax. It’s a WEEK, Dean!
Yeah. It was.
Jesus.
It was a knee-jerk decision when she kept pushing
If I back out now, she’ll worry even more.
Charley sent a string of emojis that I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with, followed by:
We’ll talk tomorrow. There might be mocking.
I felt instantly lighter—honestly, I didn’t mind Charley knowing. Well, other than the teasing she was bound to dish out. I’d better warn Tay. It sounded like he had a sister a little like that, though, so I hoped he wouldn’t be too cowed.
“Well.” I showed Gregg the screen. “On the bright side, she won’t tell Mom.”
He skimmed the words, then gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “She’s the bride, buddy. I’m sure she’ll be plenty busy with things that aren’t mocking you.”
I snorted. “Have you met my sister?”
He winced, nodded. “Yeah, all right. Time to strap in, my friend.”
“You’re supremely unhelpful right now,” I said, only to wrap an arm around him in a half hug that lasted just a second.
“I’ll warn Tay—we’ll be fine. No harm done, okay?
Charley can keep a secret, and you know…
I’m kind of glad she knows. Even if she’ll probably treat this as a grand ol’ joke she can ride into the sunset. ”
I tried to sound more confident than I felt—this was my mess, no use having Gregg feel terrible about it. If I played it right, Tay and I would have an ally. On the other hand, if I failed, my sister would read this as a sign that Mom was right and I needed fixing of some sort.
Not so.
There was something calming about the familiar choreography of the ward.
Quiet authority settled around my shoulders as I moved between the beds, juniors trailing me like flustered ducklings learning to navigate a pond.
While Charley’s text lingered in my mind, I managed to keep the unease at bay—just background noise.
It wasn’t until the end of my shift that my rhythm stumbled. Brooke. She sat propped against her pillows, faraway gaze fixed on the window while her phone lay idle in her lap. The shadows beneath her eyes were hard to miss.
“Afternoon, Brooke,” I said.
She glanced my way, nodded, and turned back to stare at the swaying branches of a bare tree outside the window. The silence felt loud—like the final culmination of her dwindling sarcasm over the last few days, perhaps even weeks.
I tapped my pen against her chart as I scanned the numbers. “No running commentary today?” I asked lightly. “Feels like I’m losing my touch.”
Her eyes flicked to me, guarded. “Just tired.”
Her thinning defiance was worse than the usual bite, concern pulling at me. Eighteen—easy to forget that underneath her usual armor, she was far too young to carry this kind of burden. Growing up too quickly, that’s what Tay had called it when I’d told him about my story.
“Some days are like that,” I said gently. “It doesn’t make you weak. Just means you’ve been strong for longer than you should’ve had to.”
She gave a tiny nod, gaze sliding away, and remained silent. I got it—sometimes, words felt wholly useless. So I finished scribbling my notes and moved to leave. Her voice floated after me. “Enjoy your vacation, Doc.”
It held barely a trace of her usual bite, underlaid with something genuine. I paused in the doorway to glance back at her. “Thanks. Save me some good lines for when I’m back, yeah?”
She stared at me, some kind of thought clearly dancing on the tip of her tongue. After a moment when nothing came, I turned again.
“Hey, Doc?” Her voice snagged on the quiet space between us. “If, you know… If they don’t find a heart for me in time—do they tell me, or am I just… waiting?”
It felt like frost shattering underfoot—an unfamiliar crack in her voice that broke my heart just a little. When I moved back into the room, she was gazing at her hands, shoulders hunched, pulled tightly into herself.
“We tell you,” I said, low but steady, around the distant ache in my chest. “We won’t leave you guessing, Brooke. You know we’re doing everything we can, right?”
“I guess.” Her gaze flickered to me and away, blinking too quickly. “But… someone has to die for me to live, right? Like. Is it wrong to hope someone else dies?” Her voice dropped. “Does that make me a terrible person?”
God, this wasn’t fair. None of it was.
“It’s not about hoping someone dies,” I told her. “It’s about hoping their family says yes when they’re already gone. That hope’s allowed.”
She exhaled a shaky breath, eyes suspiciously bright. “It’s not fair, is it?” she asked, as if echoing my thoughts.
“No, it’s not.” I shook my head, my heart as heavy as my bones. “Life isn’t fair, Brooke. Sometimes it’s cruel, and it kicks you in the gut. And the only thing you can do is get back up, dust yourself off, and keep going. Adjust your crown, maybe.”
A beat passed as she chewed on her bottom lip, looking painfully small in her hospital bed. “Sounds exhausting.”
“It is.” I softened my voice. “And you’re too young to have to learn that. But you can get through this. You’re still here. That counts.”
For a long second, she sat in silence, fingers knitted in the blanket. Then she offered the slightest nod and ducked her head. “Thanks, Doc. See you when you get back.”
This time, I left it at a simple, “Yeah. You will.”
The day had long since tipped into nighttime when I left the hospital. So. Official start of my vacation. Or, alternately, a one-week lie, dressed up in linen and SPF 50.
I needed to call Charley.
But first, packing. It helped, sort of. I rolled shirts and lined up toiletries, slotted packing cubes like Tetris pieces. But somewhere between checking on Cambodian humidity levels in December and comparing two nearly identical pairs of sunglasses, I realized I was… nervous? Really—now?
It’d be fine. Tay was funny, smart, easy to be around in a way most people weren’t.
Just, though, sharing a villa and a bed for a week—I’d never actually done that before.
I liked my space, hadn’t ever really gotten to that point where dating turned serious enough for even just a weekend trip. But it’d be fine.
So why was I staring at my half-filled suitcase like it might detonate?
Maybe this was the worst moment to talk to Charley. I did so anyway.
She answered on the second ring, voice wry. “So. The amazing con artist calls.”
“I’m packing,” I said, as if it was some kind of explanation.
“Do you want a medal, or…?”
Right, okay. I tipped my head back, briefly closing my eyes. “How mad are you?”
“Like… a four?” She paused, and I could hear her decisively flip a page, probably a legal brief. “You lied, which sucks. But I guess it’s a prank of sorts. And I get why you did it.”
I sighed. “It just snowballed. I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”