CHAPTER 13
Randi didn’t stop walking until she reached the parking lot.
Even then, she didn’t trust herself to slow down. Her steps remained quick, uneven, her breath tight in her chest as she fumbled for her keys with her left hand. It took longer than it should have, her frustration rising sharply with every second she couldn’t get a steady grip.
“Come on…” she muttered under her breath, finally managing to unlock the door.
She slid into the driver’s seat and shut it quickly behind her, the sound louder than necessary in the quiet of the car. For a moment, she simply sat there, her hands resting in her lap, her pulse refusing to settle.
Of course.
The thought came fast. Automatic. Familiar.
Of course there was someone.
Of course there was a life she hadn’t seen, hadn’t been part of, hadn’t even considered asking about. Why would there be? Why would she assume she had any place in it beyond what had already been given?
She let out a short breath that held no humor at all.
You knew better.
That was the worst part.
She had known better.
She had told him as much. Told herself. Set the boundary clearly enough that there should have been no confusion. He was her doctor. Then he wasn’t. And somewhere between those two points, she had let herself believe there might be something more.
Something real.
Something safe.
Her fingers curled slightly against her palm, the ache in her hand flaring just enough to pull her attention back to something physical, something she could control.
Dinner.
The walk.
The way he had looked at her.
The way he had said her name.
Her eyes closed briefly. It had felt real. That was the problem. It had all felt real.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her voice unsteady now. “Don’t do this again.”
She leaned back against the seat, staring through the windshield without seeing anything beyond the memory replaying itself over and over.
The woman’s arms around him.
The ease of it.
The familiarity.
And the way he hadn’t stepped back.
Hadn’t explained.
Hadn’t—
No.
She cut the thought off before it
could go any further. Her thoughts wouldn’t stop, stoking the flame of anger, disappointment, and sadness building inside of her.
She had to stop. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t her place to ask. And it never had been.
That was the truth she had
spent years building her life around. Don’t expect anything, stay away from attachments, and don’t get close enough should anyone want to leave.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel slightly, the sting in her hand grounding her again.
You knew better.
And this time, she wasn’t going to ignore it.
Back inside the hospital, Brew stood exactly where she had left him.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
Didn’t fully understand what had just happened only that something had shifted sharply, without warning, and he had somehow missed the moment it began.
“What was that?” Sabrina asked, glancing down the hallway where Randi had disappeared.
He barely heard her.
His focus remained fixed on the empty space she had just occupied, replaying the last few seconds with growing clarity.
Her expression.
The way she had gone still.
Then distant.
Then gone.
“I have to go,” he said abruptly, already moving. “I promise we’re meeting up for dinner at six, same place.”
“Brew—”
But he was already halfway down the corridor.
He stepped outside, scanning the lot, catching sight of her just as she pulled open her car door.
“Randi!”
She didn’t turn.
Didn’t slow.
He crossed the distance quickly, frustration rising now—not at her, but at the fact that he didn’t yet understand what had pushed her away so fast.
“Randi, wait.”
She slid into the car.
The door shut.
He reached it just as she started the engine.
“Randi—”
She lifted her hand once, a small, dismissive wave that landed harder than any words could have.
And then she drove away.
Brew stood there, watching until the car disappeared from view.
Only then did he exhale.
Slow.
Measured.
Trying to catch up with something that didn’t make sense.
He turned back toward the hospital, his mind working through the moment again, this time more carefully.
The timing.
The interruption.
Sabrina.
He stopped.
Of course.
The realization landed with immediate clarity, irritation following close behind.
He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck, letting out a breath that held more frustration than he allowed himself to show.
She had seen that.
Seen the hug.
Seen enough to draw a conclusion he hadn’t had the chance to correct.
And she hadn’t stayed long enough to let him.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
He started walking again, slower now, his thoughts shifting from confusion to something more deliberate.
He could fix this, and explain it, and clear it up in five minutes.
Less even. Except. He stopped again.
Because something about the way she had looked at him before she walked away told him this wasn’t just about what she had seen. It was about what she believed. About what she expected. Or didn’t.
And suddenly, it felt less like a misunderstanding … and more like a wall going back up.
Brew let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening slightly.
“Not this time,” he said quietly.
He wasn’t going to let her disappear behind that. Not without trying.
For the first time since he had met her, this wasn’t about a procedure, or recovery, or something he could fix with skill and precision.
This was something else entirely.
And he had no intention of walking away from it.