Chapter 7
Brant
I stand near the nurses' station the next day, scrolling my phone between charts, when I see a headline that slaps me across the face.
MYSTERIOUS MENTOR MELTDOWN
My thumb hovers above the screen as I read through the rest.
There’s tension in the pediatric wing, and we’re not just talking about tiny IV needles.
Sources say Dr. Brant Harrison, Pulse Point Medical Center’s brooding pediatric senior doctor, snapped at a new resident in front of staff this week. Witnesses claim the scene was “intense,” “icy,” and “lowkey hot.”
And who was on the receiving end of this oh-so-public professional scolding?
None other than our newest rising star, Dr. Regan Thomas. Yes, that Regan Thomas, the hospital director’s daughter, an honors grad, and the subject of an increasing number of Harrison’s hallway glances.
So what’s the real story?
Is it a clashing of minds? Or hearts?
We’ve obtained a nurse’s statement suggesting the disagreement involved treatment decisions for a high-risk pediatric patient.
But here’s where it gets juicy: apparently, Harrison has been seen scribbling in a leather-bound notebook during his breaks.
Poems? Confessions? One source claims he murmured, “You're still seeing this like a puzzle to solve,” in a voice too soft for scolding.
Is he a secret romantic or a man on the edge?
Our favorite theory? Lover’s quarrel disguised as a medical debate.
Stay tuned. And keep those stethoscopes open.
Dr. Whisperer
What the hell is this?
I barely register the footsteps padding down the hallway until I hear him.
“Well, well,” Mason drawls behind me, dragging the words out like he’s savoring each one. “So that’s what all the brooding was about.”
I don’t turn around. I finish the paragraph first, jaw tight, shoulders locked.
“You know…” he continues, sidling up beside me like we’re just colleagues chatting between rounds and not two seconds away from a shouting match. “I always thought you were more of a by-the-book guy. But seducing the director’s daughter to win chief? Bold move.”
I whip my head toward him, annoyed. “I didn’t seduce anyone.”
Mason holds up both hands like I just threatened to punch him. “Hey, I’m not judging. Honestly, it’s smart. Hell of a shortcut.”
“You believe this crap?”
Smirking, he taps the screen with one finger. “You tell me. Heated exchange, soft voice, and a secret notebook. Sounds like something out of a romance novel.”
“I don’t have a notebook. It was a disagreement over a dosage. That’s it.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. Mason knows exactly what he’s doing, making this sound worse than it is. Part of me wonders if he’s the one who fed this story to whoever wrote it.
“Oh, sure. Just a little... passionate disagreement. In front of staff. With the director’s very attractive daughter.” He clicks his tongue. “Not a good look, man.”
I’m one second from snapping something I’ll regret when—
“Harrison. My office. Now.”
Director Thomas.
Perfect timing.
Mason lets out a low whistle and grins. “Oof. Good luck with that.”
I shove my phone into my coat pocket, ignoring the heat in my neck, and head for the director’s office.
Notebook? Soft voice?
I’m going to kill whoever said that.
His office door clicks shut behind me.
He doesn’t sit. Arms crossed tightly across his chest, he starts pacing the floor. Dr. Thomas is usually composed. This version of him? Restless and wound tight is new. This isn’t about hospital gossip. No, this is personal.
I lower myself into the chair across from his desk, keeping my posture straight but not stiff. Calm, or at least trying to look it. “Dr. Harrison,” he says, a warning all on its own.
“Sir?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just steps to his monitor, swivels it toward me, and taps the screen. “Have you seen this article?”
I lean forward, shaking my head, embarrassed he saw it. “It’s not true. None of it. I don’t even know where they got this from.”
Dr. Thomas stands slowly, gripping the back of his chair with tight knuckles. “Are nurses witnessing anything? Inappropriate conduct, anything that could be misinterpreted?”
“God, no,” I say quickly. “I mean… we disagreed about a case. That’s all. She was pushing a sedative support, and I didn’t think it was the right move. That’s it. There was no misconduct. Just a professional disagreement.”
“She can be… difficult to reason with,” he mutters.
His tone is a mixture of frustration and affection. A father talking about his daughter, not a director about a resident. I tread carefully, but I am relieved that there’s no investigation.
“Stubborn,” I say carefully. “But smart. I respect where she’s coming from. I do. But I didn’t agree with her decision, and I said so.”
Dr. Thomas finally pulls out the chair behind his desk and sinks into it. He bends forward, elbows on the wood, hands clasped, and fixes me with a hard stare. “Let me be clear. No one touches her in this hospital. She’s here for her residency, and I expect her to stay focused.”
I nod, understanding he wants his daughter to succeed. “Of course, sir. And for what it’s worth, you don’t need to warn me. I wouldn’t go there. But I’m happy to keep an eye out. You may need to talk to people like Mason…”
He lets out a slow breath and tilts back in his chair, rubbing the side of his jaw like the weight of all this has been building. “I’ll have a chat with Mason and remind everyone of the company policy.”
The image of Mason’s hand settled on her lower back and the way she smiled at him comes to mind. So I agree with him, but I’d say his daughter is a distraction too.
I lean forward slightly, forearms resting on my knees. “I get it. Honestly, I don’t date anyone from work. Never have. This job is my entire life.”
His expression softens a touch. “That’s exactly why I brought you in. I was shocked when I read that article. But you know how the gossip is here.”
I exhale, relieved, and shake my head as I sink back a little in the chair. “They just want to stir up drama. Get clicks. Doesn’t matter what’s true.”
“Well,” he says, sitting up straighter, “not on my watch. Not anymore.”
Feeling relaxed compared to when I first come into the office, I meet his determined gaze. “I’ll look out for her. For you. Let you know if I hear anything.”
He nods once, grateful. “That’d be great. Thank you, Harrison.”
“My pleasure.”
He inclines back in his chair, crossing his arms loosely across his chest. “While I have you, I wanted to let you know we’re ahead of schedule. The demolition is finished, and construction starts next week.”
“That’s good,” I say with a nod, the pivot to something more productive another welcome relief. “Are there any issues with the King family’s funding requirements?”
“No, they’ve been pretty hands-on with their donations,” he says, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.
“Dusty’s been asking about when he can see the new playroom.”
I’ve grown pretty close to him and his family over the last year. There’s just something about that kid that I see myself in.
My pager goes off, and I glance down. It’s a pediatric emergency. “Is that all, sir?”
He gives a final nod. “Yes. You’re good to go.”
I rise quickly, chair legs scraping lightly against the floor. “Thank you.”
Then I’m out the door, walking fast, my mind already calculating the quickest route to the ER.
After dealing with the emergency, I’m rounding the corner down the hall and nearly collide with Regan.
She’s standing there, clipboard clutched in one hand, coffee mug in the other. Her hair is pulled back now, a few stray strands escaping around her face. She stumbles back a step, barely avoiding a spill.
“Whoa—Sorry,” I say, catching her elbow instinctively before she can topple over. “Didn’t see you.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “Apparently not.”
I drop my hand and step back, giving her space, trying to keep things neutral, my shoulders tight from the sudden tension in the air. “You alright?”
“Fine,” she says, her voice clipped and cool, just like her father’s. “Just heading to see my dad. He’s asked to see me.”
We stand for a beat too long, the hallway too quiet. The air feels thick, like we both know there’s a conversation hanging between us, one neither of us wants to start.
I clear my throat, the awkwardness nagging at me. “For what it’s worth… that article? I had nothing to do with it. And nothing in it is true.”
She arches an eyebrow, her gaze cool but calculating. “I didn’t think it was.”
Feeling the heat of her stare, I shift on my feet. “Good, but…” I trail off, unsure what I’m even trying to say.
She exhales, a soft sigh that makes her shoulders drop just a fraction. “I just want to be treated like a doctor, not a headline.”
Fair enough.
Her frustration is clear, even if she’s doing her best to mask it.
“I didn’t ask for the headline,” I say. “I disagreed with you.”
Her eyes flash, intense as ever. “You questioned me in front the nurses.”
“Because you were wrong about the sedative support.”
“And you were condescending.”
My patience wearing thin, I sigh as I run a hand through my hair. “Okay. Maybe I was. You’re new. Let’s try not to let gossip set the tone for the rest of the year.”
She studies me, her eyes narrowing slightly, and I expect her to walk away.
Then, after what feels like an eternity, she nods once. “Fine. Truce.”
“Truce.” I offer a quick nod, letting the tension ease.
Without another word, she turns and walks down the hall toward her father’s office, but calls over her shoulder, “Still doesn’t mean you were right about that case.”
I can’t help it; there’s a flicker of a smile on my face as I watch her disappear down the corridor.
God help me. I think I just made things more complicated.