15. Lucy
15
LUCY
The morning after the gala, I wake to the faint light of dawn filtering through my bedroom window, painting the walls in soft hues of pink and gold. My body is still, but my mind is racing, replaying every moment of last night. The heat of Joel’s touch, the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, the unspoken words that hung in the air long after we parted. I’ve never felt anything like it, this overwhelming mix of exhilaration and uncertainty.
I’m conflicted. Part of me wants to dive headfirst into whatever this is, to let myself fall completely. But another part of me, the cautious part, whispers warnings about how complicated this could get. He’s Aiden’s best friend, my boss in a roundabout way, and a single dad with two incredible kids who don’t need someone waltzing into their lives and shaking things up.
But it’s too late for that, isn’t it? I’ve already fallen for all of them.
The sound of laughter drifts up from the kitchen, pulling me from my thoughts. Miles and Finn. The warmth in my chest spreads, and I can’t help but smile. It’s not just Joel who’s drawn me in; it’s them too. They’ve wrapped themselves around my heart, and no amount of caution or hesitation is going to change that.
I pull on a sweater and make my way downstairs, following the scent of coffee and bacon. The boys are at the table, chattering animatedly about some board game they’ve decided to reinvent with their own rules. Joel stands at the stove, his movements uncharacteristically clumsy as he turns the bacon with one hand while trying to pour orange juice for Finn with the other.
"Need a hand?" I ask, leaning against the counter.
He glances over his shoulder, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Desperately."
I laugh, stepping in to take over juice duty while he focuses on the bacon and eggs. The boys cheer, and for a moment, it’s easy to forget the tangle of emotions from last night. Here, in this cozy kitchen filled with laughter and the smell of breakfast, everything feels simple. Right.
As the day unfolds, the boys drag us into their world of video games and holiday planning. We string popcorn garlands for the tree, bake cookies that somehow end up more in Finn’s mouth than on the tray, and laugh until our sides hurt. Joel is quieter than usual, his smiles softer, his laughter tinged with something I can’t quite place.
Later, when the boys are engrossed in a movie, I find him on the porch, staring out at the snow-covered yard. He’s holding a mug of coffee, the steam curling around his fingers, and his expression is faraway, contemplative.
"Penny for your thoughts?" I ask, stepping out to join him.
He startles slightly but then relaxes, offering me a faint smile. "Just thinking."
"About?"
He hesitates, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to answer. But then he sighs, his breath visible in the chilly air. "About how much has changed. About what… what I want."
There’s a vulnerability in his voice that makes my chest ache. I reach out, resting a hand on his arm. "Change can be good," I say softly. "Even if it’s scary."
He turns to look at me, his green eyes searching mine. "And what about you? Are you scared?"
"Terrified," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I think… I think it’s worth it."
His hand covers mine, warm and steady, and the moment stretches between us, fragile and full of possibility.
That evening, after the boys are tucked into bed, we find ourselves in the living room, the glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows on the walls. Joel is on the couch, his head resting against the back, his eyes closed. I sit in the chair across from him, a cup of tea cradled in my hands, and watch as the tension in his face slowly fades.
"Joel," I say softly, and his eyes open, meeting mine.
"Yeah?"
I hesitate, the words forming and reforming in my mind. "I… I want you to know that I’m here. Whatever we decide, whatever happens with us, I won’t abandon you and the boys."
He sits up, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Lucy… this thing between us, it’s… it’s not just a passing thing, is it?"
I shake my head, unable to look away from him. "No. It’s not."
He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing as if a weight has been lifted. "Good. Because I don’t think I could let you go, even if I tried."
The honesty in his voice leaves me breathless, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. I set my cup down and cross the room, sitting beside him on the couch. He watches me, his expression soft, and when I reach for his hand, he takes mine without hesitation.
"This is scary," I whisper, my voice trembling. "But it’s also… it’s also the best thing I’ve felt in a long time."
He nods, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. "Me too."
We sit there in silence, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. It’s a silence that feels full, not empty, like all the things we want to say but don’t need to. And in that moment, I know. Whatever comes next, whatever challenges we face, we’ll face them together.
Later the next morning, while Joel runs errands, I sit at the kitchen table with my laptop, sipping a steaming mug of coffee. The boys’ laughter filters in from the living room where they’re busy with a puzzle. It’s the perfect time to think, to plan.
Joel’s candidacy for Chief of Staff is still a topic of quiet tension, and I can see the weight of it in his every move. The hospital’s politics are grueling, and his rivalry with Dr. Rivkin isn’t helping. Rivkin… something about him has always rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t until recently that I began to wonder if there’s more to it.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I start searching online for anything about Dr. Rivkin. Most of it is standard; professional accolades, conference appearances, published articles. But then I stumble across something buried in a thread on a medical forum. A nurse from another hospital had commented about Rivkin’s dismissive and inappropriate behavior toward staff, particularly female nurses. Her account is detailed and unsettling, and a quick search reveals more stories. There are accounts from other nurses and even a few doctors who claim to have witnessed his behavior firsthand.
My stomach tightens as I read, each new story painting a more troubling picture. Worse, it seems that these complaints were largely ignored by the board of directors at his previous hospital. They’d brushed it under the rug, citing a lack of concrete evidence, but the sheer number of accounts is hard to dismiss.
When Joel returns, his arms full of groceries, I meet him at the door, my laptop still in hand. "Joel, we need to talk."
He raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting to concern. "What’s wrong?"
"It’s about Rivkin," I say, leading him to the kitchen table. "I found something."
As he puts the bags down, I open my laptop and show him the threads I’ve been reading. He scans the screen, his jaw tightening with every line.
"Lucy, this is serious," he says finally, his voice low. "But you shouldn’t have to get involved in this."
"Joel, if these accounts are true, it’s not just about you or the promotion. It’s about protecting the people who work with him. What if he’s done the same thing here and no one’s come forward?"
He runs a hand through his hair, visibly torn. "Even if that’s the case, going after him like this could backfire. It might look like I’m trying to sabotage his chances."
"And what if he’s unfit for the role? What if the board needs to know this before it’s too late?"
Joel exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. "Okay. If you really want to help, reach out to the nurses who’ve worked with him. See if their stories match what you’ve found. But be careful, Lucy. This could get messy."
The next day, I track down a few of the nurses by asking a nurse I’ve gotten to know at the hospital if she knows them. She is willing to give me their email addresses, so I send them each a brief note. Over the next few days they start to respond. At first, they’re hesitant to talk, but once I share what I’ve read, they begin to open up. The stories they tell are even worse than I imagined; belittling comments, unfair schedules, and in some cases, outright harassment. The fear in their voices is palpable, but so is their relief at finally being heard.
I decide to send Joel a text at work : Joel, I’ve heard back from some of the nurses. You’re not going to believe what they’ve told me. I’ll fill you in tonight.
By the time Joel returns home from work, my heart is heavy, but my resolve is stronger than ever. I’m waiting for Joel in the living room as he drops his keys on the table and quickly comes into the room, his expression tense.
"What did you find out?" he asks as he sits beside me.
I tell him everything, sparing no detail. By the time I’m done, his hands are clenched into fists, and his jaw is set in a hard line.
"We have to tell the board," he says finally, his voice firm. "Even if it costs me the promotion, they need to know."
"Are you sure?" I ask, my hand resting on his arm. "This could change everything."
"And letting him continue unchecked would be worse," he says. "This isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about doing what’s right."
That night, Joel writes a detailed letter to the board, outlining everything we’ve discovered. He includes the accounts from the nurses and the evidence from my research, carefully framing it as a concern for the hospital’s integrity and safety. The next morning, he sends a copy to each board member by special delivery.
As we sit by the fire that evening, the weight of what we’ve done hangs heavy between us. The boys are asleep upstairs, and the house is quiet, save for the crackling of the flames.
"Do you think they’ll take it seriously?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I hope so," Joel replies, his gaze fixed on the fire. "But even if they don’t, we’ve done the right thing. That has to count for something."
I lean my head on his shoulder, drawing comfort from his steady presence. The future is uncertain, but in this moment, I know we’ve done everything we can.