Chapter 4 #2
But it’s more than just the aesthetic. She has the husband, the kid, the life.
This is what I want to come home to someday, what I hope to find after stepping out from my father’s shadow and proving myself back in the city.
Not the house, exactly. But the love and stability.
The sense that someone chose to build this with you, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
I shift my attention back to Scarlet, feeling a little jealous. She made it look so easy, staying here, building something beautiful. But then again, she didn’t have my father.
Scarlet moves into the kitchen, flipping the kettle on. “Let me make you some tea,” she says, already reaching for the cupboard and making us tea.
I sink onto a stool at the island.
“So,” she says, sliding a mug across the table until it bumps gently against my hand. “First day, how was it? Don’t hold back.”
I curl my fingers around the warm ceramic, grateful for something to do with my hands as I think. Where do I even start? The gossip? Brant? My dad? “It was… good. Overwhelming, honestly. I barely saw the new wing; they threw me straight into the deep end.”
It’s not the whole truth. I leave out the whispers about getting the job because of my dad, and the annoying feeling like I have to work twice as hard to prove I deserve to be there. But Scarlet doesn’t need all that yet.
She leans back against the counter, arms crossed, but a smile tugging at her lips. “Classic hospital moves. Welcome back, now go sink or swim.”
I chuckle, lifting the mug to my lips. “Exactly.”
Her eyes light up. “I’m so excited about the new cardiac wing. It’s actually happening.”
“Thanks to your family, seriously,” I say, lowering the mug. “It’s a big deal.”
She waves a hand, but looks pleased. “With all the travel we’ve done, and the different specialists with Dusty… I just kept thinking, Pulse Point could be more. Our kids deserve better. Real care. Not outdated monitors and five-minute checkups.”
I nod. She’s right, though it’s hard not to compare it to where I came from. The hospital in the city had the best of everything. But here? I saw outdated monitors, cramped exam rooms, staff stretched too thin. “It’s going to change everything.” For a place like this, it really will.
“They’ve been keeping me updated,” she says, blowing on her tea, then taking a sip. “When it’s finished, there’s going to be a big ribbon cutting. The whole shebang, speeches, photos, probably too much food.”
I grin. “That sounds… very on brand.” I sip again, slower this time. “Okay, tell me… how’s Dusty doing?”
She exhales, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Up and down. They caught the defect early, but it’s been scary. Surgery helped, but now it’s all follow-ups and meds and scans. There’s always something. But he’s tough. I think kids are tougher than we give them credit for.”
My chest tightens as I look at Dusty, now sitting on the living room rug, playing with a plastic fire truck.
“I’m really glad he’s okay.”
“Technology’s incredible,” she says. “The pacemaker’s tiny. And our pediatric cardiologist is incredible. Honestly, that’s why the new ward matters so much. It could help so many kids like him. I feel like I owe it to other parents, you know?”
I smile softly, inspired by her. “You’re doing more than enough.”
She nods, looking down at her tea. “We’re lucky to be in a community like this. So supportive and close.”
“And your parents?” I ask, half-laughing.
She lights up. “Dying to see you. You have to come for dinner. They’ve been pestering me for days. When is Regan getting back? When is she coming over?”
I laugh, warmth blooming in my chest. “Tell them I’d love that.”
More welcome by other people’s parents than my own father.
It’s the enthusiasm that gets me, like her parents can’t wait to see me. Dad took the day off, sure, but it felt like an obligation, a box to check. This feels different. Like I’m wanted, not managed.
“So what’s going on with your dad?” she asks gently.
I roll the mug between my hands. “He’s... Dad. Quiet.” I pause, lips twitching. “Except when Harrison’s around. Then he’s suddenly cheerful. All praise and politeness. The second Harrison left the room, it was back to his usual. ‘Make sure you pay attention’.”
She tilts her head. “Maybe he just wants to make sure you’re doing the right thing.”
I bite back my immediate reply. Scarlet’s always seen the best in people. It’s one of the things I love about her, but it’s also one of the things that reminds me how different our families are.
“Maybe,” I mutter. “It’s just… awkward. I’m avoiding going home unless I have to. I want a routine like I had in the city. Gym, friends, normal stuff. I can’t have him hovering every night.”
She nods, sipping. “Totally. That makes sense.”
“And when I am home, it’s... tense. He kind of ignores me.”
She reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just hard.” I inhale slowly, like I’m bracing myself. “I told you I applied to another hospital in the city before I came here, didn’t I?”
She nods. “But you’re not leaving until after the residency, right?”
“Yeah. But I didn’t tell him. I just need something after my residency that isn’t his legacy.”
Her eyes are full of understanding. “It’ll go fast. You won’t even realize it.”
“I hope so,” I say, then smile. “Well, yes and no. I’m actually excited to be back. To see people like you. Eat food that doesn’t come from a vending machine.”
She laughs. “You’ve been spoiled already.”
I glance at my phone. I’ve been here almost forty-five minutes, and I should probably head back before Dad starts worrying or judging.
“Hey… I didn’t say earlier, but Dr. Harrison? He’s Dusty’s cardiologist.”
My hand freezes around the mug at the reminder. It totally slipped my mind. “I think you did…”
She nods, eyes glossy but smiling. “He’s been incredible. Stayed late to explain things, talked me through every scan, every blip on the monitor. Even called to check in on his off days. I trust him with Dusty’s life… literally. I don’t know what we would’ve done without him.”
I swallow, looking down at the dark swirl of tea. Suddenly, all I can see is him bent over a chart, steady hands and relentless focus, saving Dusty’s life. The image slips under my skin, warm and unexpected.
“He’s, uh… thorough,” I say, trying not to smile.
Scarlet raises an eyebrow. “You two working together okay?”
I shrug, standing and brushing non-existent lint from my sleeve. “He likes things his way.”
And yet... there’s something about the way he took care of Dusty, the way Scarlet says his name. It makes my chest feel tight in a way I don’t have time to examine.
I clear my throat. “Speaking of, I better get going, I’ve got another big day with him tomorrow.”
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” she says, walking me to the door. “Dusty, come say goodbye.”
He trots over, still shy.
I crouch down to his level. “Bye, Dusty. It was really nice meeting you.”
He lifts the truck like it’s part of the goodbye, then gives a small wave before darting off again, the toy rattling as he runs.
We both laugh, and I catch a glimpse of Dusty peeking around the corner, watching us.
He looks so healthy; it’s hard to imagine him hooked up to monitors, recovering from surgery.
But that’s what the new wing is for. To help other kids like him.
Scarlet opens the door just as headlights wash over the front step.
A black sedan pulls smoothly into the driveway.
Greer, her husband, steps out, phone in one hand, briefcase in the other.
He looks every bit the high-powered professional, with his sharp suit, neat tie, and that slightly distracted expression of someone whose brain is still finishing work. But the moment he sees Scarlet, something in his shoulders relaxes. He closes the distance, brushing a kiss against her lips.
I glance away, pretending to check my phone, but the moment gives me a pang of longing.
“Regan,” he says with a grin. “It’s been way too long. How are you?”
“Good, really good. How are you?” I smile back, knowing I haven’t seen him since the baby shower either.
“Better now that I’m home. Are you heading off already?” he asks, making me look back up.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. “Gotta get back to my dad’s.”
“Well, we’ll catch up soon.”
“Sounds great.” I nod, stepping off the porch. “See you both soon.”
Scarlet gives my arm a soft squeeze. “Text me when you get in, okay?”
“I will.”
I walk down the path to my car, her voice and their low laughter drifting behind me. I don’t mean to, but I glance back just once, just long enough to catch her leaning into him, her smile easy, her hand still on his arm.
That used to feel possible. Maybe it still is.
Just… not until I get back to the city. I can’t think about it here.
Not in this town, not under dad’s roof, not when I’m trying to prove myself professionally.
Here, I’m his daughter, whereas in the city, I can just be me.
I can date without it becoming hospital gossip. I can build something that’s mine.
As I drive home, the familiar pit settles in my stomach. What kind of mood will Dad be in tonight? Will he be angry I stayed out? Disappointed I didn’t eat his dinner on time? Or worse, will he be silent?
But when I step through the front door, I’m hit by the smell of something warm and savory. I pause in the entryway, confused. He’s cooking?
“Smells good in here,” I say, unzipping my coat.
“Minestrone soup,” he replies from the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry.”
I walk in, surprised. “Yeah, starved. Oh, it’s ready?”
He remains silent as he serves himself a bowl at the stove, his back to me.
“You want me to set anything up?” I ask, noticing the table’s bare; no spoons or bowls.
He turns and takes his bowl to the table. “Come help yourself. I don’t know how much you want.”
I grab the ladle, fill my bowl, and sit.
The silence stretches, and then he breaks it. “So I asked Dr. Harrison how your first day was.”
I freeze for half a second, my spoon hovering just above the bowl. “Yeah? What’d he say?”
“He said you were great,” he says matter-of-factly. Not proud or pleased. His eyes stay on his bowl.
The words should feel good. But they feel more like a complication.
I nod, keeping my gaze low. “This is good,” I whisper. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t answer, just goes back to eating.
I let the silence stretch again, listening to the clink of his spoon against the bowl. My eyes drift to the fridge, where the creamer sits. He said I was great.
Coming from Dr. Harrison, that shouldn’t mean anything. And yet… it does. It wedges under my skin, warm and unwanted. Because he sees me and thinks I’m good.
Suddenly restless, I shift in my seat.
I shouldn’t care so much about what Harrison thinks. I shouldn’t feel this flicker of something I can’t name just because he said I did well.
But I do.
And now I feel weirdly guilty about the creamer.