33
Friday August 1st
Lexi
St. Luke’s Medical Facility smells like antiseptic and memories as I head straight for the elevator, ride up five floors, and follow my dad’s quick text instructions on where to find him.
After our reconnection, I spent nearly Meredith-Grey-level amounts of time in these halls, meeting my bio dad for lunch or hanging out in his office when he had to work weekends. He wanted me around, in any way I could be, even when he was called to duty fixing people. I resisted at first, but the more he reached out, asking to see me for any amount of time I’d be willing, the more I started to cave. By the time a couple years passed, the hospital became my second home. He got job offers constantly, but he never moved from St. Luke’s—because I was here.
I practically had to bash him over the head to get him to accept the job in Germany. I appreciate the dedication to being an active parent, considering how we started, but I’m a grown woman now. Chaining himself to New York until he’s six feet under seems like overkill.
I smile when I spot a shiny gold-plated name on the door— Dr. Nick Raines, Head of Neurosurgery —a niggle of actual excitement at seeing my dad in the flesh reminding me that I really am human after all.
Crossing the threshold of his office, I find my father sitting behind an impressive desk, his face entranced with whatever he’s looking at on his laptop.
“Even after a yearlong stint in Germany, St. Luke’s has welcomed you back with open arms,” I announce as I shut the door behind me.
My dad looks up, a grin spreading across his face and crinkling the crow’s-feet around his eyes. It’s been a whole year since I’ve seen him in person, aside from a few FaceTime calls, and except for a little more gray threaded through his hair, he hasn’t changed a bit.
“I never resigned from my position here, Lex,” he corrects, and I just roll my eyes as I round his desk to check out whatever has him so invested in his computer screen. A comprehensive list of clinical data for a drug called NVG-291 sits at the forefront, and I already know this is related to Scottie.
“You think she’s a candidate for it?” I question, and he shrugs as he closes the screen of his laptop before my eyes can read through all the statistical data on the cutting-edge treatment.
“I think I’ll know more when I conduct a few more studies myself.”
“You’re not happy with all of the labs and tests you had her team run over the past month?”
“I’m definitely satisfied with the information I obtained, but you know me, Lex, I always want more.” He smiles up at me as he reaches out to briefly touch my hand. “It’s good to see you.”
“Thanks.”
“What?” His smile grows wider, his arms opening in kind. “It’s not good to see me?”
“It’s good to see you, Dad,” I comment and lean down to embrace him in a hug, laughing a little at how important it is for him to get confirmation now, given how our relationship began. It wasn’t until I was prepubescent that he started to make an effort, when he realized taking care of a child financially was important but unexclusive. Emotional well-being is half the battle in childhood health.
To this day, I credit much of his maturation in our current relationship to my stepmom Charlotte.
Charlotte is warm and kind, and ironically enough, she used to be my uncle Remy’s fiancée many, many years ago—a long chapter in a different book and an entire story of its own, let me tell you.
Now, she’s an accepted and welcome part of my life, and before she and my dad moved to Germany for a year, it wasn’t uncommon for her to meet me for lunch near campus every two weeks or so. Some who know the whole story think it’s weird.
But it’s all par for the course, in my opinion. The path to a father-daughter relationship hasn’t necessarily been smooth or without complications, but we’re in a good place now.
It took a lot of years for him to gain both my mom’s and Wes’s trust, but I can’t blame them for that either.
I know his status in my life always used to cause my mom a lot of stress. She felt I deserved better, that I deserved an active father figure, but I always felt like I had everything I needed with her. Honestly, I probably don’t tell her enough how good of a mother she is.
I really need to do better. I’m trying to do better. But things like that—emotions—are not easy for someone like me.
“So, Lex, tell me, how are you doing?” my dad asks as I head over to the leather sofa in the corner of his office and sit down.
“I’m good.”
“And your doctoral dissertation?”
“Already finished.”
“Oh man.” His laugh is hearty, but there’s also a sentiment of pride mixed into each chuckle that leaves his lungs. “I should’ve known you’d have it done well ahead of the end-of-summer deadline. And has my brilliant daughter decided on a career path?” His smile turns knowing. “Because I know a certain profession that could use a mind like yours.”
“I’m not going to med school, Dad.” I roll my eyes. “Financially speaking, med school would be a step backward. I’d lose money and miss out on opportunities. I already have over ten companies making offers for some of the software and apps I’ve created this past year.”
He smirks. “You going to sell?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I guess if I think one of them is the right fit and will utilize what I’ve created in the way I intended, then I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“Interesting.” He nods slowly, steepling his hands under his chin. “And outside of school and your career, how’s everything else?”
“What else is there?” I ask with a snort, defaulting to my factory settings for a moment or two.
“I don’t know. New friends?” He pauses, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Boyfriends?”
Immediately, Blake’s face flashes in my mind—his crooked smile, the way he says my name, the way he’s been asking me to stop keeping him a secret. My stomach tightens, and I focus hard on my hands, clasped tightly in my lap, but whatever’s written on my face isn’t lost on my dad.
“Wait…does my daughter have a man in her life?” he asks, leaning forward slightly, his attention sharp and unwavering. His eyes search mine like he’s solving one of his Sunday crossword puzzles, and it feels like the walls of his office are closing in. My shoulders stiffen, and I shift in my seat, trying to shake the mounting pressure.
“No,” I say quickly, but the word feels foreign, like my tongue doesn’t belong to me. It’s not quite a lie, but it’s definitely not the truth, and it sits there like a pebble I can’t swallow.
“Are you sure?” he presses, his curiosity only growing, but just as I start scrambling for an answer, the door swings open. Finn and Scottie come in, their voices cutting through the tension like a lifeline, and my dad’s focus snaps to them.
I release a quiet, tangled breath, sinking back into the couch as relief washes over me. I’m not ready to explain my feelings—I don’t yet understand them fully myself.
“Dr. Raines?” Scottie asks, and my dad stands up from his chair to greet her at the door.
“You must be Scottie,” he says and holds out his hand to shake hers. He does the same with Finn, who currently stands behind Scottie’s wheelchair.
“Finn Hayes,” Finn introduces himself.
“He’s my boyfriend and all-around super support system,” Scottie adds, flashing a smile up at Finn.
“That goes both ways, babe,” he tells her before my dad gestures for them to come inside. Finn eases Scottie’s chair the rest of the way into the office and parks it right in front of his desk.
“Hey, Lex,” Scottie greets when she meets my eyes, and I offer her a little wave and smile back. Finn’s exchange is a little more curt, just a simple nod—exactly what I’d expect from him.
“Scottie, I’ve reviewed all of the tests and labs I requested your medical team to do,” my dad begins. “I’ve also spoken at length with your physicians and your physical therapists to get a stronger understanding of your baseline status after your injury. And while I never like to make promises, I do want you to know that I am incredibly optimistic that you might be a candidate for a few options. Though, I would definitely need to run additional tests that will give me a more in-depth look at nerve function before we could move forward with any kind of real optimism.”
“Okay.” Scottie nods, her eyes fluttering between Finn and Nick and me. “But that’s kind of good news, right?” she asks. “I mean, you’re not telling me all hope is lost, so I’m assuming that means there’s a chance?”
“There’s definitely a chance,” my dad answers with a soft smile. Scottie’s hand shoots out to grab Finn’s wrist and squeezes. His skin mottles white with the pressure, but he doesn’t flinch.
“And how much would all of this cost?” Finn chimes in. “Because Scottie and I—”
“Oh no, Finn,” my dad cuts him off. “This is all pro bono.”
“Pro bono?” Scottie asks, her voice a whisper.
“No cost,” my dad explains—though, I don’t think it was the technical definition Scottie was having trouble with. To offer this level of services and care at no cost is at a great financial risk to the giver. My father is well-off, but this is still a huge deal.
Scottie’s response is a mix of outright shock and awe, the shake in her sweet voice giving her away. “I don’t know if I can accept that. I mean, I—”
“Any friend of Lexi’s is a friend of mine,” my dad states definitively, solidifying his redemption arc status in his villain origin story entirely.
Scottie looks over at me, and the emotion that sits behind her eyes makes my throat feel like it’s closing in on itself. Finn’s normally stoic face crumpling with overwhelm doesn’t help.
I look down at the floor and blink rapidly, willing my tears to stay at bay.
“So, how about we get started?” my dad questions, a smile on his lips as he turns his laptop screen toward Finn and Scottie. “Scottie, I want to first show you what I’m seeing from all your tests. Basically, give you an overview of the current state of your injury. And then, I want to tell you about some of the treatment possibilities I see as options and the tests I’d need you to undergo in order to get final confirmation that you’re a true candidate.”
“Okay,” Scottie says, her eyes fixated on the screen of his laptop where an MRI of her spine is showcased.
But just as my dad starts to discuss where her spinal injury is located and what that means in terms of daily function, my phone vibrates in the pocket of my jean shorts.
I pull it out to find a single text.
Blake Boden: I’m coming to your place tonight.
Me: Bossy much?
Blake Boden: Not bossy. Just desperate to see you.
Me: You saw me last night.
Blake Boden: So?
I can feel my mouth threatening to form a smile, but I suck my lips into my mouth and try to keep a neutral expression on my face. Though, I do find myself texting him back.
Me: Fine. But I’ll probably be hungry, and I’m not eating pizza from that dude’s dorm again. As in, NEVER AGAIN.
Two nights ago, Blake talked me into getting the definitely-against-health-code pizza for the second time. It was good. I won’t deny it. But I’m one hundred percent certain the risk for salmonella outweighs the taste, and the anxiety about it had me in the bathroom half the night, just in case.
Blake Boden: I’ll get takeout from Zip’s.
Me: Perfect. 8:15?
Blake Boden: See you at 8:15, Lexi Lou. Can’t wait.
Another night, another secret sleepover with Blake.
I pause, my fingers hovering over my phone as a realization sneaks up on me. You’ve created quite the routine this summer. Blake Boden is basically a part of your life now…
The thought stops me cold.
No fitting him into my routine anymore—he’s a part of it.