Chapter 4
Regan
In the changing room, I find my assigned locker and pull it open.
A fresh white coat hangs inside. Tucking my bag and spare clothes into the locker, I slip on scrubs and the coat.
It’s stiff and pristine, the fabric unfamiliar.
It still smells like starch, but feels like a new beginning.
I tug it tighter around my body; it fits, but it doesn't feel like mine yet.
After tying my hair up and giving my outfit a quick once-over, I head out.
I collect my ID and pass, then walk down the corridor to the break room. The hospital sounds of pagers, squeaky wheels, and clipped footsteps surround me.
The break room is a decent size, with beige walls, overhead fluorescents, and mismatched chairs gathered around small tables.
A muted TV flickers in the corner. A couple of nurses are perched on stools by the counter, scrolling their phones or mumbling into Bluetooth earpieces.
No one looks up as I walk in. A small relief—at least no one’s connecting me to the last name stitched above my heart.
I head to the coffee machine, scanning the row of mismatched mugs and faded labels.
Even here, the lack of upgrades screams my dad’s presence.
It knots in my stomach, this constant reminder of him, like he’s in every corner, suffocating me.
Grabbing a mug, I pour some coffee before opening the mini fridge, where I spot it.
The creamer.
His creamer.
I glance over my shoulder to check no one’s watching. With my heart thudding, I twist the cap and pour some into my coffee. Just a splash.
He won’t even notice.
I take a sip, then stifle a grin behind the cup. Somehow, it tastes better this way, sweetened with a touch of mischief.
And apparently, he had some stashed here all along, while I had nothing.
When I stole the last bottle from him, I had no idea who he was. Just some uptight guy with a caffeine dependency and zero sense of humor.
Now? Now I know exactly who he is.
Dr. Brant Harrison. My new boss.
Of all the attendings at Pulse Point Medical Center, of course it had to be him. The guy whose creamer I’m currently stealing. The guy who looked at me in the shop like I’d committed a crime.
Just perfect.
Sliding into an empty seat by the window, I pull out my phone and see message notifications.
Liz: Good luck on your first day. Call me afterwards. ;)
Mom: Good luck, darling. You’ve got this. I love you. X
I text them both back a quick thank you and a promise to call. Letting the warmth settle in my chest, I sip slowly, pretending this isn’t me being petty. For a moment, I feel… okay.
Eventually, I toss the empty cup and make my way out, feeling tense. Now, I’m officially Dr. Regan Thomas. New pediatric resident.
And Harrison?
He’s my supervising physician.
I push through the double doors into the peds wing. The air here feels different, louder, and more alive. Monitors beep in scattered rhythms, nurses murmur softly, and somewhere a toddler is crying. No one glances at me. I’m just another doctor in the mix.
At the nurses’ station, Harrison is tapping on a tablet, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his elbows, completely at ease in the chaos. He glances up. No smile, obviously.
“Good,” he says, checking his watch. “You’re on time.”
God forbid, I get a compliment for punctuality.
He hands me the tablet. “Room 12. Eight-year-old female. History of recent unexplained seizures. I want your initial impressions before I give you mine.”
I nod as I click on the file on the tablet. We move quickly down the hall, my footsteps in sync with his. “No family history. No prior symptoms until a week ago… first seizure was at home?”
“Correct.” He glances over at me, then shifts his gaze back down the hallway. “Her mom thought she was zoning out until she dropped. Frequency and severity have both escalated.”
I flip a few more pages, absorbing the details. “Medications?”
“We’ve tried levetiracetam, valproate, and lamotrigine.
No effect. EEGs are unclear. MRI clean. Your turn.
” He doesn’t break his pace, but there’s a subtle intensity in the way he speaks.
Like he’s testing me. This is it, my first real chance to prove myself I belong here and wasn’t just handed this position because of my dad. I need to get this right.
I flick my eyes up briefly, scanning the hallway ahead as we approach the room. “Vitals stable. Reflexes slightly delayed on the left side,” I report after reading the notes. “I’d order another EEG, longer this time. Twenty-four hours. And a full blood panel.”
He gives me a quick, almost imperceptible nod, his fingers brushing against his stethoscope as he adjusts it. The shift in his demeanor is subtle, something like approval. Relief washes through me. I can do this. “Good start. Add genetics consult too.”
Damn. I should’ve thought of that. Of course he’d think of something I missed. Still, “good start” is better than nothing, so I’ll take it.
He steps toward the girl’s mom and explains everything with a calm, assured tone that immediately settles the room.
She listens intently, blinking hard, her hand never leaving her daughter’s.
The image in front of me has me reflecting on my mom’s text this morning. It makes me miss her so much more.
Once we’re out in the hall again, he glances over at me. His eyes narrow slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching. He leans in closer, his voice low in my ear, as if keeping the moment between us. “Not bad… for a creamer thief.”
I smirk, stepping back. “Technically, it wasn’t theft.”
He doesn’t know what I did during earlier, and I have no intention of telling him.Something shifts in his expression, not quite a smile but close enough.
I’ll take it. After the tension with Dad and my nerves this morning, having someone look at me like I might actually know what I’m doing? It feels like a win.
“How was your first day?” Liz asks. I can hear the city sounds in the background. She’s walking to work. She’s about to start her residency at New York Hospital, where she’s doing an oncology fellowship.
“It was good.”
“You sound surprised.”
I hesitate, tapping the steering wheel. “I was, honestly. But it was a good first day.” I’d love to tell her about Shaina, the eight-year-old with seizures, about how Brant let me take the lead and actually seemed impressed. But explaining the whole dynamic feels too complicated right now.
“See? You’ve got this. And then, before you know it, you’ll be back here with me.”
“I know. Are you excited for your first shift?” I ask, wanting to know how she’s feeling.
“Yeah, of course. I’m nervous about being the new kid, but I’m sure it’ll fade fast. It’s too big and busy for people to focus on me.” She pauses. “Oh, but there’s this guy in my Pilates class who is ridiculously hot. Like, I-nearly-fell-off-my-reformer hot.”
I laugh. “Classic Liz.”
“Hey, I’m just appreciating the scenery. Anyway, how’s yours treating you?”
“That’s the big difference here. Towns know your business, which means the whole hospital watches you all the time. There’s already gossip about me, and I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours.”
“What kind of gossip?”
I wave my hand, even though she can’t see me. “Oh, just speculation about me being secretly married or me getting the job because of Dad. You know the works.”
“Yikes. Is the guy you're married to at least—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence.”
She laughs, and I hear the sound change. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know if I have any gossip.”
“Please do. I need to live vicariously through your drama-free workplace.”
“Drama-free? Have you met doctors?” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Talk soon. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and call Mom and check in with her as I drive. The engine gives a tiny splutter I pretend not to hear, and I keep talking until I pull into Scarlet’s house.
Scarlet lives on one of those sprawling lots just outside of town. Classic old money with a sloped lawn, sweeping porch; the kind of place that makes you feel underdressed just parking out front.
Half the reason I’m back here in Pulse Point, doing my residency, is because of her.
I step out of the car, inhale deeply, and make my way up the stone steps. My heart beats faster as I press the bell.
The door swings open with a burst of energy.
“Oh, my God! I can’t believe it.” Scarlet practically launches at me, arms flung wide.
We hug tightly, and for the first time all day, I feel myself exhale. Something about her untangles the knot in my chest.
“I’m so excited you’re here,” she says, pulling me inside by the hand. She looks exactly the same, with red bouncy curls and a big, bright smile. Marriage and motherhood suit her.
A little boy peeks out from behind her leg. Then, in a flash, he ducks back behind it.
“Dusty,” she coos, glancing down. “This is Regan. Mommy’s friend from school, remember? The one from the video calls?”
He nods shyly, fingers gripping the hem of her top. He’s bigger than he looked on my phone screen. The last time I actually saw Scarlet in person was over five years ago, when she was pregnant with him at her baby shower.
I crouch slightly, smiling. “Hi, Dusty. You’ve definitely got your mom’s eyes.”
He just blinks at me, then whispers something to Scarlet I can’t quite catch.
She laughs. “He wants to know if you’re staying for dinner.”
“I’d love to, but it’s been a big day. Next time, for sure,” I say, looking up at her. “But where’s Greer?” I ask as I stand up.
“At work,” she says with a shrug, then flashes a mischievous grin. “Even better. More time for us to catch up.”
She loops her arm through mine, leading me into the house.
The place is stunning, with herringbone floors, a massive country-style kitchen island centered like a showpiece, and touches of green in every corner, like it was staged for a magazine.