4. Joel
4
JOEL
The hospital corridors thrum with the familiar blend of beeping monitors and hurried footsteps. I’m usually in my element here, immersed in work, head clear, and emotions neatly tucked away. Today, however, my thoughts are a chaotic mess, orbiting around one person: Lucy Harper.
Colleagues have been relentless, their sly comments and insinuations about my new "live-in nanny" peppering every conversation. It’s irritating, but worse, it’s distracting. Dr. Rivkin, as always, has taken it up a notch, his thinly veiled barbs about propriety and favoritism laced with malice. It’s as if he’s been waiting for an opportunity to knock me down a peg.
Pushing the door open to Exam Room 3, I steel myself. Focus, Joel. This is your domain. Not the incessant gossip mill, not Lucy. Definitely not Lucy, I remind myself for the thousandth time.
The patient’s case is straightforward—a broken wrist from a weekend hiking accident. I plaster on my professional demeanor, but even as I explain the treatment plan, my mind drifts to the kiss we shared at the festival. Lucy’s laughter from that chaotic breakfast this morning. The way Miles and Finn looked at her like she hung the moon. The way… No. Stop.
I’m signing the discharge papers when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see her name on the screen.
Lucy: "I’m here. Got something to drop off. Where are you?"
My pulse picks up, and I scold myself for it. It’s just Lucy. She probably forgot a kid’s lunch or needs me to sign something. Nothing more.
Me: "Third floor, near the nurses’ station."
I tuck my phone away and finish up with the patient.
By the time I’m back at the nurses’ station, Lucy’s vibrant blonde hair is visible from across the hall. She’s chatting with one of the nurses, her easy laughter drawing smiles from everyone around her. I’m struck, not for the first time, by how effortlessly she lights up a room.
"Joel!" she calls, waving as she crosses the hall toward me. She’s holding a small paper bag, and her smile is as bright as ever. "I brought you lunch. I figured you’d forget again."
I glance at the bag, then at her, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my chest. "Thanks. You didn’t have to."
She shrugs. There’s a bit of a smirk on her face and a glimmer in her eyes. "I’m your nanny. Nannies bring lunch, right?"
"Anytime," she says, her gaze lingering on me a moment too long. It’s in that charged silence that the air shifts. We’re no longer just Joel and Lucy—doctor and nanny, single dad and free spirit. There’s something else here, unspoken but undeniable.
"Come with me," I say, the words out before I’ve fully thought them through. Her brows lift in curiosity, but she follows without question.
I lead her to the storage room at the end of the hall. It’s quiet, secluded, the sounds of the hospital muffled behind the thick door. Once inside, she sets the lunch bag on a shelf and looks at me expectantly.
"Joel? What are we…”
I’m on her before she finishes the question. My lips crash against hers, and for a moment, the world falls away. She tastes like mint and sunshine, and I’m utterly lost.
Lucy’s gasp melts into a moan as she leans into me, her hands clutching my lab coat. My mind screams that this is again, a terrible idea, that we’re crossing lines we can’t uncross, but my body doesn’t listen. I press her against the shelf, my hands finding her waist, her hair, anything to anchor me in this whirlwind of sensation.
The kiss quickly deepens as Lucy melts into me. Her hands lift to grip my shirt, pulling me closer as my other hand slid around her waist, anchoring her to me. The world tilts, the tiny supply closet disappearing until there is nothing but the heat of her mouth, the steady press of her body against mine, and the way her heart pounded like a drum in her chest.
When I finally pulled back, we are both breathless, my forehead rests against hers. Lucy’s fingers curled into the fabric of my scrubs as she fights to catch her breath.
“That was…” she starts, her voice shaky.
My lips curve into a smirk, though my gaze is still dark with desire. “Even better than the last time?”
Her cheeks are flushed, her blue eyes wide with a mix of surprise and something else, something that makes my pulse thunder.
"Joel," she whispers, her voice shaky. "What are we doing?"
I step back, raking a hand through my hair. "I don’t know."
She touches her lips, still swollen from the kiss. "This… this can’t keep happening."
"I know."
But even as I say it, I know I’m lying. Because I want it to happen again. And again.
And it does. We lean into each other and the kissing continues.
A knock on the door jolts us both. I quickly step away as Lucy straightens her shirt and smooths her hair. When I open the door, Rivkin is standing there, his expression smug.
"Hope I’m not interrupting anything," he says, his tone dripping with insinuation. Before I can respond, he adds, "Just wanted to let you know—the board’s making their decision about who is going to be on the short list for the chief of staff position this week. Might want to keep things… professional until then."
He walks away without waiting for a reply, leaving me seething. Lucy touches my arm lightly, grounding me.
"We should get back," she says softly.
I nod, but my thoughts are anything but settled. Between Rivkin’s cryptic comments and the memory of Lucy’s lips on mine, my carefully ordered life is unraveling faster than I can control.
The door to the storage room swings shut behind us as we step into the hallway. I glance at Lucy, who’s busy smoothing her hair, her cheeks still flushed. She’s pretending like nothing happened, but I can see it in her eyes—she’s just as affected as I am.
"I’ll, uh, see you later?" she says, her voice a little too breezy as she pushes the now-forgotten lunch bag into my hand and heads down the hall. I watch her go, wondering how on earth we’re going to keep this from spiraling out of control.
I’m halfway back to my office when Rivkin’s words replay in my head. "Might want to keep things professional." The way he said it… it wasn’t just about Lucy. There’s something else there, something he’s not saying. My stomach tightens.
The promotion to chief of staff should be straightforward. I’ve put in the work, earned the respect. But Rivkin’s tone… it’s like he knows something I don’t. Something that could derail everything.
Back in my office, I sink into my chair, the tension in my chest refusing to ease. I try to focus on the stack of patient files on my desk, but all I can think about is Lucy—the taste of her lips, the way she felt pressed against me, the way she…
No. I can’t do this. Not now. Not with Rivkin lurking and the promotion hanging in the balance. I’ve worked too hard to let everything fall apart because of a few moments of weakness.
But the more I try to convince myself, the less certain I feel. Because deep down, I know… one moment with Lucy is worth more than all the promotions in the world.