5. Mireya #2
Sleep never came. The night stretched endlessly while I lay staring at the ceiling of the break room, turning the offer over and over like something I couldn't quite put down.
Riven's offer was clean and professional. A job caring for his sister in exchange for housing and a modest salary. I would be working, earning my place. Not accepting charity. That part I could live with.
He had also said I wouldn't need to assist his surgeries. Or not as often.
I waited for that to sting.
It didn't.
And that surprised me more than anything else had today.
I had built my entire identity around those hours in the OR, around being the person he reached for without thinking, around the particular satisfaction of anticipating him so precisely that the work felt like a conversation no one else could hear.
I had assumed losing that would feel like losing something essential.
Instead, the thought of not being on my feet for twelve hours straight felt like setting down a weight I had forgotten I was carrying.
I was more tired than I had realized. Not just exhausterd–worn down.
The only thing that gave me even a moment of pause was the thought of seeing him less.
Which was its own problem entirely, because he had just invited me to live in his home, so that reasoning made absolutely no sense, and I was clearly more delirious than I thought, and I was not going to examine that any further.
Nope.
The part that actually stung was knowing he had seen me at my absolute worst. He knew exactly how badly I had failed.
He had literally carried my unconscious body out of that supply closet, stood there while my landlord aired every humiliating truth I had been trying to hide, and seen me utterly exhausted while handling a difficult patient.
That embarrassment was something I would simply have to live with.
Dawn broke through the hospital window, and I watched the sky change from black to purple and then to pale pink.I perched on the edge of a reclining chair in yesterday’s wrinkled and stained scrubs, staring at Riven’s business card again.
Just call. It’s a job. You need housing. He needs a nurse for Emma. That’s all this is.
As I stepped out of the break room, I saw him walking down the hallway. His stride was slow and confident, unmistakable. By the time I turned fully, he was already at the doorway—white coat on, tablet tucked under his arm.
My chest tightened. I hesitated, then forced myself forward.
“Dr. Cross.”
My mouth opened, then closed again. The truth pressed hard against my tongue.
“I changed my mind,” I said quickly before pride could interfere. “About your offer. If it still stands, I’ll take it.”
His expression didn’t change. There was no surprise or satisfaction.
“It stands,” he said.
Relief and fear hit me at the same time.
“I can move in today,” I added. “This afternoon, if that works.”
“Be ready by noon. I’ll pick you up.”
“You really don't have to do that. I can take the bus.”
“I’ll pick you up” His tone left no room for argument. “Bring whatever you need. The guest suite has everything else.”
He turned to leave.
“Dr. Cross—” I caught myself. “I mean, Riven.”
He paused and looked back at me.
"Thank you." The words came out quieter than I intended. “I’ll take good care of your sister. I promise.”
“Just be ready at noon,” he repeated and nodded once.
Then he was gone.
I stared at the doorway, trying to understand how my life had shifted so quickly. In less than five minutes, I had housing and a part-time job. I had a way forward that didn’t involve pulling my family into my mess.
My mother had packed most of my things and taken them with her. I'd collect them once I was settled in. She'd also taken my car to go to Aunt Evelyn's. I wouldn’t need that now anyway.
Everything I currently owned fit in one backpack.
It was exactly noon when I received a message from Riven, telling me to wait by the main entrance. I exhaled harshly and grabbed my bag, sprinting to where he said he would be.
A sleek black car waited at the curb with Riven standing beside it, his white coat gone, replaced by dark jeans and a charcoal sweater. It made him look younger, more approachable—though his face remained guarded.
He opened the passenger door without a word.
I awkwardly slid into the passenger seat, aware how weird the setup had become. Yesterday he'd been Dr. Cross, the aloof cardiac surgeon I assisted in the OR. Today I was moving into his home.
Pushing the thought aside, I sat in silence as he settled behind the wheel and pulled smoothly into traffic.
“Why didn’t you call?” he asked, slowing down at a red light.
I glanced at him. His eyes remained on the road.
"I needed time to think."
"Some people don't make major life decisions in just a few days," I said defensively.
"Some people don't wait until they have nowhere to go before accepting help," he countered calmly.
I frowned. “That was unnecessary."
"It was accurate." His tone remained infuriatingly even.
"And you're remarkably indecisive," he said without missing a beat.
"I'm not indecisive. I'm cautious."
“Call it whatever helps you sleep,” he said.
At a red light, Riven pulled his phone from the center console and handed it to me. "Put your number in. That's my personal line."
I accepted the device hesitantly and typed in my contact information. "What should I save it under?"
"Whatever you want."
I smiled and decided quickly. I typed Nurse Reya and added a heart emoji.
“There,” I said brightly. “Done.”
He glanced at the screen and his jaw tensed almost instantly. “Why is there an emoji?”
“Because it scares serious men,” I said sweetly. “I like to keep things balanced.”
He stared at me for a moment. “Remove it.”
"No. It adds warmth. And you said I could choose." I grinned. "Can't take that back now, Riven."
I placed his phone back on the dashboard and watched him from the corner of my eye.
The almost-smile was still there. Barely. Like he was trying to put it away and it wasn't cooperating.
I faced forward and said nothing, because saying something would ruin it entirely and I was not about to do that.
Cold, distant, unreachable Dr. Riven Cross had just almost-smiled because of an emoji.
I was going to think about that for a completely reasonable and totally normal amount of time.