KORIE
The little girl’s grip on the purple elephant is so tight her knuckles are pale, like she’s afraid someone might snatch it away if she loosens even a little.
I crouch down in front of her, keeping my voice soft and steady. “Hey. What’s her name?”
Amber sniffles, big watery eyes darting between me and the machine behind me. “Ellie,” she whispers.
“Ellie. That’s a good name.” I smile and tilt my head toward the X-ray table. “Do you think Ellie’s ever seen one of these before?”
Her lower lip wobbles, and she shakes her head hard.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” I lean in, like I’m letting her in on a secret. “But most elephants haven’t. Did you know that?”
Amber shakes her head again.
“So it’s kind of a big deal. Ellie should feel special to even be this close to one.”
That almost gets a reaction. Almost.
Her mom stands off to the side, trying to look calm, and failing. I give her a quick reassuring glance before turning back to the little girl.
“Okay,” I say gently. “So here’s what we’re gonna do. I need you to climb on this table so I can take a picture of your arm.”
“Will it hurt?”
“You won’t even feel it, I promise. But you’ll need to hold really, really still for a few seconds. Can you do that?”
She hugs Ellie closer.
“I’m afraid Ellie might get in the way if you keep holding her. So what if we put her right up here?” I gesture to the counter beside the machine. “That way she can watch you and make sure I’m doing everything right?”
Amber’s eyes widen like I just suggested throwing the toy out of a window, and she presses the stuffed elephant even closer to her chest. “Ellie’s scared!”
I nod, taking that seriously. “Oh, I see. And I bet she doesn’t like to be alone, does she?”
She shakes her head again, more empathetic this time.
“It’s okay to be scared.” I lean in a little. “I get scared too. So what if I hold her then? Would that help? Because we don’t need a picture of Ellie. We need a picture of you.”
She pauses, and her fingers loosen just a fraction on Ellie’s ear.
I try again. “Ellie can even push the magic button to do the picture, if she wants.”
That gets her attention. Amber sniffles. “She can do that?”
“Only if she’s very, very careful.”
She considers it. “Would you keep her safe?”
Something in my chest pulls tight, and I reach out to cup her uninjured elbow. “I promise you, sweetie, I’ll keep her very safe.”
She studies my face with as much seriousness as a four-year-old can manage. Her mom shifts impatiently, clearly wanting to get this over with. The little girl must be in so much pain, and all she can think about is her elephant.
I hold the child’s gaze, patient as can be.
Finally—reluctantly—she holds Ellie out to me.
I take the stuffed animal as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world, tucking her to my chest with one arm.
“There we go. You can hang out with me, Ellie. I’ll get you back to your friend as soon as I can.”
A single tear slips down the child’s face, and she quickly brushes it away.
“Alright.” I shift into work mode, keeping my tone warm. “Let’s get you set up.”
I guide her onto the X-ray table, moving slowly so she doesn’t feel rushed. “Can you put your arm right here for me?”
She does as I ask, her movements stiff and cautious. She’s hiding her pain better than some adults who come through. But that’s a gymnast for you. They learn to push through the pain, even at a young age.
“You’re doing great. Seriously. Like, gold-medal worthy.”
That earns me the tiniest flicker of a smile.
Adjusting her arm in the strap is a little more complicated while trying to hold Ellie, but I’m not about to hand the stuffed animal off to someone else either. Amber winces.
“I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’ll be over soon. I’m gonna step behind that wall for just a second.”
“With Ellie?”
I hug the elephant. “With Ellie and your mom. Then the machine is going to take your picture.”
Her eyes dart to the wall, then back to me. “Don’t go.”
“I have to.” I point to the window. “You’ll still be able to see us right there.”
I gesture for her mother to follow me behind the barrier, keeping Ellie tucked securely against me. I give Amber a big thumbs up.
“Okay. Hold still.” I take the elephant’s hand and lean down, pushing a button on the keyboard. The few seconds it needs to take the picture seem to stretch on forever, but the little girl doesn’t move. Not even a twitch.
“She’s so brave,” I say under my breath to her mom.
“You have no idea. That girl was jumping off furniture before she could walk.”
I chuckle. “I bet.”
As soon as it’s over, I step out. “That’s it! All done.”
Her eyes go straight to Ellie. I hand the elephant back. She clutches her again, burying her face in Ellie’s soft purple side.
Her mom exhales like she’s been holding her breath the entire time. “Thank you.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for. And Ellie’s officially an X-ray expert now, so if you ever need to come back, she’ll know what to do.”
That earns me a real smile from both of them.
This is exactly why kids are my favorite. No pretense. No judgment. Just raw, honest feelings and the occasional stuffed elephant negotiation.
Adults… not always so simple. One look at my mascara and they question if I’m fit for my job. It’s annoying.
I walk the girl and her mother back to the exam room, then realize it’s time for lunch.
By the time I reach the cafeteria, I’m starving. Miles and Sophie are already here, sitting at our favorite table. I grab my food and head straight for them. It’s become our thing to meet here whenever our schedules line up. No planning needed.
“Hey,” I say, sliding into the seat.
They both perk up immediately.
“Oh, look who survived another morning,” Sophie teases.
“Barely,” I reply, popping open my carton of milk. “I had to negotiate with an elephant today.”
Miles grins behind his dark blue glasses. “Please tell me that’s not code for something.”
“Oh, it was a very real elephant. She was purple and made of velvet. Her name was Ellie, and let me tell you, there were some intense emotions involved.”
Sophie laughs. “You must be in Pediatrics today?”
“Yup. This whole month, actually.”
“No wonder you look so happy.”
I shrug, but I can’t hide my smile. We can’t all be superheroes to little kids, but lucky me, I get to be one. “She did great too. The poor thing was so scared, but so brave.”
“Kids are like that,” Miles says. “It’s all or nothing. I love working with them.”
“Same. I’ll take their sass over the adults who think I’m personally responsible for their bad day.”
Sophie snorts. “Right. God, some of them can be so awful.”
As travel nurses, Sophie and Miles are only here temporarily.
But selfishly, I hope they’ll decide to stick around instead of moving on to their next assignment.
Miles probably will, to be with his boyfriend’s chosen family, but Sophie…
I don’t know. I’m hoping if Miles stays, she will too.
They’re best friends, just like Holden and I are.
I glance at Miles. “So, how are you and Jordan? I haven’t seen the guy since… well, since the last time you tortured him at work.”
Miles smiles instantly. “He’s good. Busy writing his next book. We went to a museum the other day and spent, like, three hours there. Jordan was in heaven.”
Sophie arches a brow. “Three hours at a museum? What are you, like, fifty?”
“Hey! It was a good museum,” he defends.
“Ugh. You two are weird.”
Miles just shrugs. “You’re just jealous.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I’ve known Jordan longer than I’ve known Sophie or Miles, but I’ve never seen the quiet bartender come to life the way he does with Miles.
Which raises the question: what would that even be like for me? To have that kind of easy, light happiness with someone? Or to not worry that I’m too much or not enough or somehow always just slightly off from what people want?
I want it so bad it hurts, but not if it means shrinking parts of myself to fit into something more acceptable, or pretending to be someone I’m not just to make it easier for someone else. That’s not worth it. But for now? This—friends, laughter—that’s enough.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
“We should do something soon,” I say, taking a bite of my food.
Miles perks up immediately. “We can always go to Graham’s Bar.”
I groan, already smiling. “You just want an excuse to bother Jordan while he’s working.”
“You’re not wrong,” he says without shame. “He’s so fun to tease on the clock.”
Sophie laughs. “You’re terrible. You know it really is torture for him, right? Staring at you and not being able to touch you?”
“Oh, I know. That’s part of the fun. All that build-up…” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Trust me, he likes it too.”
Sophie cackles, nudging him. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Miles has that signature dopey, ridiculously happy expression spreading across his face that everyone in love gets. I envy it.
“Alright, fine. I’m in,” I say, reaching for my phone.
Sophie agrees.
We fall into planning of who’s driving and what time. A few minutes later, my phone buzzes on the table, and I swipe to read the text.
“Holden says he’s in for tonight and he’ll invite Hattie and our friends too.”
Sophie grins conspiratorially. “Perfect. The more chaos, the better.”
The bar is louder now than when we first got here.
Upbeat music pulses through the floor, and the air smells like beer and citrus and too many bodies packed into one place.
At some point, we pushed two tables together to make room, and now there are empty glasses scattered everywhere like evidence of a really good night.
Hattie is halfway draped over Mateo’s shoulder, and she’s got that bright, mischievous look in her eyes, the one that usually means she’s thinking about something she absolutely shouldn’t.
Camila is laughing at something Mateo said, her curls falling loosely over her chest and her cheeks flushed pink. Mateo looks like he’s pretending to be annoyed, but he’s smiling too, one arm steady around her so she doesn’t slide off her stool.
Holden is beside me, his knee pressed against mine and loose in a way I don’t see very often. His laugh comes easier after a couple of beers.
I let myself sink into it, into the rhythm of their voices and the warmth of being surrounded by people who feel like home.
“Wait.” Hattie suddenly sits up like a bolt of electricity just shot through her. She points a finger at Holden, squinting. “You!”
Holden blinks. “Uh. Me?”
“You went on a date a couple of weeks ago,” she accuses, like he’s been withholding classified information. “With that guy from the restaurant.”
Mateo lets out a low whistle. “Ohhh, yeah. I forgot about that.”
Camila perks up too, leaning across the table with wide eyes. “Details. I want all of them.”
I feel Holden shift beside me, his posture tightening just a little. It’s subtle, but I know him. I know that tension.
“It was nothing,” he says quickly, reaching for his drink as if that might end the conversation.
Hattie gasps. “Nothing?” She slaps her hand dramatically on the table. “Dammit, you poor guy. I really thought you two had something.”
He groans. “Hattie—”
“No, no,” she insists, leaning in closer, eyes gleaming. “I know what that sigh means. That means it was bad.”
Mateo snorts. “That’s exactly what it means. Another crappy date for our boy Holden.”
Holden drags a hand down his face. “Can we not—”
“You know what,” Hattie cuts in, suddenly sitting up again like she’s just had the best idea of her life. She looks between Holden and me like we’re two pieces of a puzzle. “You guys should date each other.”
Everything stops.
Like—actually stops.
And then everyone bursts into laughter.
“What?” Holden and I say at the exact same time.
“No,” I add immediately, shaking my head. “Absolutely not.”
Hattie waves us off like we’re being ridiculous. “Not like actually date,” she says, like it’s obvious. “But like, fake date.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That’s somehow worse.”
“I’m serious!” She points between us. “Korie said they don’t like all this dating stuff either, right?” Gee, thanks. Throw me under the bus, why don’t ya? “And Holden clearly sucks at it—”
“Hey,” Holden protests.
“—so,” she barrels on, ignoring him, “if you date each other, you can figure out what the other is doing wrong so you can do better.”
Camila actually nods as if Hattie is onto something. Even Mateo seems mildly interested, dark eyes darting between us.
“I don’t date,” I say firmly.
Holden straightens a little. “Who says I’m doing anything wrong?”
There’s a defensive edge to his tone that makes something in my chest tighten.
I jump in quickly. “And anyway, no. We’re not doing this.”
But Hattie has that look in her eyes like she’s latched onto something and isn’t letting go.
“Why not? It could be fun!” She’s practically bouncing. If she was standing, she’d totally have a hand on one hip. “Like an experiment. You can practice all the dating stuff on each other and give each other pointers. Asking each other out, opening doors. All that shit.”
“Even kissing,” Miles throws in, just to be cruel. “Orrrr not.” He throws his hands up when I shoot him a look.
“Hattie,” I say again, firmer this time. “Drop it. We’re not doing this.”
She opens her mouth to argue again, but gets distracted when someone approaches the table. We all turn just as Jordan swings his arms around Miles’ shoulders from behind and kisses him on the cheek.
Miles lights up immediately, his entire face softening in a way that makes my chest ache a little. “Hey, baby.”
He turns to kiss Jordan for real, all casual and effortless, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
God, they’re so perfect together. They fit so well. That’s the only way I can describe it. Like two pieces that just… belong together.
A quiet, familiar ache grows inside me, and I focus on the nearly empty glass in my hand.
I don’t need a boyfriend.
I don’t need a boyfriend.
I don’t need—
“You two are ridiculous,” Camila mutters, but she’s smiling.
“Disgustingly cute,” Hattie agrees.
I tune them out, taking a long sip of my drink.
When Holden and I lock eyes, we shake our heads in matching bewilderment.
Yeah, no. He might need help, sure, but I’m not the person who should give it to him.
I don’t date. Anyone. Ever. Besides, it would be a disaster if we dated—or even pretended to.
And everyone knows it. Hattie will probably laugh herself silly when she remembers this conversation later.
If she remembers it.
“Hey, Piper!” I call as the bartender walks by. “Can I get one more margarita for Hattie?”
I need to make sure this never comes up again.
Holden laughs. “Better make it two.”