Chapter 15 #3
“I panicked,” I said. “Fresh off the flight, baggage-claim chaos, Brooke’s heart on the way, and he just… dropped it. Like I was meant to know what to do with that.”
Gregg’s chair creaked as he leaned in, voice pitched low. “Okay, cheat sheet. Option A: You kiss him. Option B: Tell him you love him back.” He paused. “If you do.”
“I…” Heat crept up my neck. “Yeah.”
He knocked his knuckles against mine, soft. “Might want to practice actually putting the words out there.”
“I just…” I glanced at my on-call pager, then reached for my dishwater-adjacent coffee. “I do. Just hadn’t realized it until he—but it’s like… I fix hearts. And I know they’re not meant to explode just standing still.”
Cheesy, God. I’d turned into a fucking cliché.
“Welcome to the land of the living.” Gregg said it quietly, a half smile tugging at his lips, and I laughed, thin and unsteady.
“I love him, Gregg.” The words shifted a weight inside my chest—like something huge had taken up space inside me, expanding with each intake of air.
“Happy for you, buddy.” Gregg lifted his cup in a little toast. “Now, what’re you gonna do about it?”
The million-dollar question.
“Prepare for the worst and hope it doesn’t come to pass?”
“Such an optimist.” Gently teasing, his smile just visible above the rim of his cup. “Let’s hear it, then.”
I stared into the sludge at the bottom of my mug like it held answers. “One, optics. A single nurse spots us grabbing coffee at some Starbucks, and suddenly Tay’s the resident who slept his way into a fellowship.”
“Rumors don’t hang around forever,” Gregg said. “Not fun, sure—but keep doing solid work, both of you, and they’ll fade.”
“You and Jada kept things quiet, and you were never even in the same department.”
“That’s because we didn’t want everyone’s noses in our business, not because we couldn’t handle some wagging tongues.”
“Yeah, okay.” I exhaled, listening to the clatter of stretchers and voices in the corridor, the hospital’s familiar heartbeat.
“But with Tay and me, there’s the power imbalance, you know?
It’s different—I taught him on rotation.
So if he applies and something floats up, the panel might scream conflict of interest.”
“Whatever, so you fill out the paperwork.” Gregg stamped an imaginary form. “You declare the relationship and step out of the room. They show you a hoop, you jump through it. If he even applies for CT, that is.”
“What if he preempts it, though?” I rubbed my gritty eyes—felt like weeks since I’d slept. “What if he walks away from CT, claims he never wanted it just to make it easy for me? And then, six months later, he’ll regret it and resent me for making him choose.”
“He’s an adult. So are you.” Gregg shrugged like it was really just that easy. “Your job’s honesty, not bubble wrap, and if he sacrifices what he wants? Then it’s probably because he thinks that’s what you need. So, make sure he knows better.”
Logic. Problems and solutions, sorted into neat little boxes—as if I were still in control.
“But what if…” I stopped, pride quietly scenting the air as it unfurled its claws. I forcibly willed it back into the shadows. “What if he didn’t actually mean it? Or things fall apart in a month because hey, turns out I’m just, you know—too much. Highly strung, intense, all that.”
“Dean.” Gregg’s tone was kind. “That’s just… Yeah. There’s no guarantee, okay? But he spent a week with you, pretty much around the clock—kinda think he knows what he’s getting himself into. And he’s had a soft spot for you from the start.”
“He told you that?” Stupid how such a small reminder could send up this bright balloon of pure, raw hope. A crush, that’s what Tay had called it. Just a crush.
“No,” Gregg said. “But the way he first mentioned you—there was something awed about it, you know?” He lifted one eyebrow, and it stupidly made me think of Tay—how he never quite managed the one, always turned it into a double waggle somehow.
“There’s a reason I suggested him for the trip.
You can thank me when it all works out.”
I steadied myself on a deep breath. “You think it will?”
“Again—no guarantees. That’s not how this works. But in a way, it’s simple—not easy, but simple.” Gregg finished his coffee with a little grimace and set the cup down. “You get to pick your risk: It’s either your reputation or a what-if that might keep you up for years.”
I swallowed. The glow of the vending machine in a corner felt suddenly distant, like I was underwater but the surface was right there, a promise of air and light if I just… kicked up. My pulse was hammering, something like a plan tugging on the furthest corner of my mind.
Gregg’s pager lit up, and he grabbed it, then cursed. “Okay, gotta go. But we can talk more, okay?”
I raised my head, smoothing my scrub top. “Thanks, Gregg. Really.”
“That’s what good friends are for.” He pushed back his chair and got up, paused for a half hug around my shoulders. “Think of it as chess, right? Logical. Moves and countermoves.”
“Yeah.” I reached up for a squeeze, then let him go with a chuckle that scraped along the back of my throat. “Knight to F3.”
Gregg straightened with a grin. “Well, there ya go. Good luck, my man.”