Chapter 2
Chapter Two
ELENA
The elevator doors slid open on the fourth floor with a soft chime. Elena stepped out, her attention still fixed on the resume in her hands rather than her path. She moved forward, still scanning his publication list, when something solid and immovable stopped her progress.
The impact knocked her backward, papers flying from her grasp in a flutter. Elena caught herself, a reflexive "Oh!" escaping her lips as she looked up, and then up some more, at what she'd collided with. Not a wall. A person. A very tall person.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, already crouching down. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
He somehow still almost felt taller than her even when he was on the ground, helping gather her papers.
Short dark hair, broad shoulders, and he must have been more than a foot taller than her.
Well. He was certainly… She pushed the thought away.
Then he looked up at her with dark eyes and a look that said Can I get some help here?
Elena blinked, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “No, it was completely my fault,” she managed, crouching beside him. “I was reading instead of watching where I was going.”
They gathered the rest of the papers and then both stood up. He was about to hand them over to her when he paused. His head tilted to the side as he scanned the document. “This is my resume.” Then he looked down at her. “Dr. Herrera?”
The pieces clicked into place. Oh, no. “You must be Finn.”
“Yes.”
She had to tilt her head back just to meet his eyes, which held an unreadable expression. The moment stretched on a beat too long before he handed the papers back to her.
"Thank you," she said, straightening and trying to recover her professional composure. "Welcome to the Neuroscience Research Lab. I'll show you around."
They walked down the hallway, Elena aware of how he had to adjust his naturally long stride to match her pace. She attempted small talk, hoping to ease the awkwardness of their first encounter. "How was your move to Seattle?" she asked.
"Fine," he replied, the single word delivered with neutral politeness.
"Finding your way around the city okay?"
"Yes."
"Have you been here long?"
"Not long."
Finn apparently wasn’t interested in sharing much about himself. Elena found herself filling the silence with more questions, then answering them herself when his responses remained minimal. The walk became increasingly uncomfortable with each failed conversation starter.
When they reached the lab, Elena felt almost relieved to push through the door into the familiar space. Three research assistants were already at work. Joanna was analyzing data at the main computer station, Derek organizing patient files, and Kayla preparing equipment for afternoon sessions.
"Everyone," Elena called, drawing their attention. "This is Finn, our new RA." She gestured toward him, conscious of how he towered beside her. "Finn, this is the team."
She didn't linger on individual introductions, sensing it would only extend the awkwardness. Finn’s gaze swept across the room, taking everything in with quick assessment. Elena led him to an empty workstation near her office. "You'll be based here. Let me explain what we're working on."
She launched into an overview of their research, partly to fill the silence and partly because he needed this foundation.
"We're working with patients who have traumatic brain injuries. The goal is to help them regain cognitive function through targeted neurofeedback therapy. Essentially, we’re training their brains to form new neural pathways around damaged areas. "
As she continued with details about the symptoms caused by brain trauma, she noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw. Before she could analyze that further, he interrupted her explanation.
"What frequency range are you targeting for the feedback?"
The question caught her off guard. It was something she'd expect a colleague to ask, not a new assistant. When she mentioned their struggle with inconsistent patient responses, his follow-up was equally targeted.
"Have you controlled for session duration variables? What about mapping responses against specific injury locations?"
Elena found herself shifting from basic explanation to high-level discussion in a matter of minutes.
His knowledge reflected a genuine understanding of the research.
"Well, why don’t you see for yourself? I'd like you to start by analyzing our current patient data," she said, a new respect coloring her tone.
"We may have missed patterns in the response rates. Fresh eyes could help."
Throughout the day, she stole occasional glances at him from her office.
There was something in his eyes that seemed older than twenty-six, something that spoke of a difficult history.
She watched how his large frame made the office chair look almost comically small, how his broad shoulders carried tension despite his outward calm.
Late afternoon, she caught herself appreciating how his shirt stretched across his back as he reached for a manual on a high shelf. The movement revealed the muscle beneath the fabric, and Elena felt heat rise unexpectedly to her cheeks.
Stop. She was forty-one years old. He was twenty-six, not to mention her new assistant.
Brilliant, yes, but absolutely off limits.
Elena turned back to her computer, forcing her focus onto the grant proposal that was due by the end of the week, and away from inappropriate observations about her newest team member.