Chapter Ten
Saturdays were always busy in the ER, but today, they were short two doctors. Vickie gave Ava eight patients to handle on her own. Normally, she handled a few while Vickie oversaw the rest, but today, there was no room for normal.
The waiting room was packed, and Ava was already juggling a man convinced he was having a heart attack, a pregnant woman who hadn’t felt the baby kick in two days, a broken arm from a skateboarding accident, two kids who were definitely down with the flu, a severe case of diarrhea, a college student showing symptoms of meningitis, and what she suspected was probably a UTI in another.
She was drowning in charts, her mind a frantic checklist of symptoms and dosages, when Vickie rounded the corner at the nurses’ station.
“I have two pieces of news, Dr. Davenport.”
Ava’s stomach tightened at the formal address. “Okay, hit me.”
“First: I nominated you for Resident of the Year.”
Ava froze. “You did what?”
“Resident of the Year. I put your name in.” Vickie crossed her arms, almost defensive, like she expected Ava to argue.
“That award is usually reserved for graduating residents, but I got two patient letters in the last week alone. One from a woman with sepsis who said you caught something the night shift missed. And Mr. Russel—the father from the car crash—he heard through staff about how you didn’t stop CPR on his son. Even after.”
Even after. Even though his son had died.
Ava opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“You’ve been doing the work of a senior resident,” Vickie continued, her tone brooking no argument. “The patients notice. And so do I. It’s time the department did too.”
“Vickie, I—that’s not—” Ava’s face flushed. She wasn’t used to being called out for doing well. In medicine, you showed up and you saved lives or you didn’t. Recognition felt like something that happened to other people…especially not for the ones you couldn’t save.
She thought about that boy on the table—Max, she’d learned from his charts—the compressions she’d kept going, the moment when even her best hadn’t been enough. She thought about his father in a different room, probably hearing the chaos and already knowing.
And somehow, her efforts had mattered to him enough to write a letter.
“No arguments. It’s done.” Vickie let that sit for a moment, watching Ava process. “The second piece of news: you’ve got a visitor in the break room.”
Ava’s heart skipped. Jay? Was he here?
Two days and she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. She especially hadn’t gotten over the way he’d looked when she left, like he had so much more to say and no idea how to say it.
“I’ll keep an eye on any orders that come from your patients.” Vickie smiled.
“Thank you. I’ll keep it quick.”
“Take your full hour,” she called as Ava hurried down the hall. “He’s a handsome one. You’ll get distracted!”
Ava’s thoughts raced, imagining Jay’s half-smile. Maybe he’d come with an olive branch or some gesture to repair what had broken between them. She pushed the door open with too much force and stumbled in to see not Jay, but Henry alone in the break room.
He sat at the table with two to-go coffees and a box of donuts.
“Oh, hey. Sorry if you’re not able to take a break right now.” He laughed and jiggled the donut box. “I was passing through and remembered your birthday’s coming up.”
Ava hesitated, standing straighter as she closed the door. She used to beg him for moments like this—coffee breaks, a morning chat, something, anything. He always had an excuse. Why now?
She sat across from him. “You’re not busy today?”
His lips thinned. “I’m here to make a truce. I know that I…” He cleared his throat. “I was being stupid. We agreed on casual, and the more we met, the more comfortable I felt with you. It scared me.”
Ava’s eye twitched at that—literally twitched. “So you interrupted my only break to say you wanted to commit the whole time but were too scared?”
“I guess that’s right.” He pushed a coffee toward her. “And…are you with that guy from the other night?”
“What does it matter?”
Henry shifted. “He looked familiar. I remember you said your ex was a musician. And then, it clicked the next day. That guy wasn’t an accountant. Your ex is Jay Wyler, Ava. You never thought to tell me that?”
It was almost laughable. If Henry had brought her coffee months ago, she would’ve been giddy, but he’d made his decisions time and time again, proving she wasn’t his priority. The only reason he was sitting here now was to stake a claim.
“I guess that’s right,” Ava said, throwing his words back at him.
“You never mentioned your ex was famous.”
Ava had kept Jay out of their conversations. She didn’t do it to hide him, necessarily, but it was more for self-preservation. She was surprised Henry even acted like he knew who Jay was since he usually preferred Dave Matthews Band and Coldplay over any heavier music.
“Didn’t think it was relevant.”
Henry’s laugh was strained. “How would I have stood a chance then?”
Ava thought about it. She did compare him unfairly to Jay all the time, but there was still one major thing that made her decide to finally give up on Henry: “All you ever had to do was get to know me as Ava and not just Dr. Davenport. That was what I needed.”
He leaned back. “Go on…”
Ava took a sip of the coffee, grimacing at the bitterness and pushing it back toward him. “For example, we spent so many mornings together, and you still don’t know how I take my coffee.”
“Like you know what I like.”
Ava leaned forward. “Splash of cream and no sugar.”
His frown deepened. She didn’t want to fight, but maybe she needed to explain this better than she did when she broke it off the first time.
“We worked great as friends and lab partners because we knew how to talk about medicine. You’re one of the few people I can sit with for hours and talk about the complexities of public health and the effects of antibiotic resistance.
” She laughed at his confused expression.
“I’m trying to say I care about you, Henry, but we never connected past being peers.
You know me as Dr. Davenport, but Ava is still a stranger to you. ”
He looked at her like she was reciting differential diagnoses without explaining what any of them meant. “How does that make sense? I tried in every way to get to know you for you.”
“You can have Ava without Dr. Davenport, but you can’t have Dr. Davenport without Ava.”
“Mmm.” His arms crossed tightly, unconvinced. “Are you sure this isn’t a nice way to say you’re choosing some celebrity over me?”
She huffed, her thumb worrying over her name tag. “I’m not choosing someone over you. I chose myself when I ended things.”
Henry uncrossed his arms. “I don’t think you gave me a chance to know anyone but Dr. Davenport.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said carefully. “I don’t think you ever wanted me to see the real you. Early on, you’d get upset talking about your past. Then you just dodged questions about your life. There was always a wall.”
Ava's spine stiffened. She never realized she was sabotaging their relationship in the moment, but when she thought back to it, he was right. If he knew her in that romantic, intimate way, then what she had with Jay wouldn’t feel special.
“I’m just saying,” Henry continued, “the distance you kept messed with me. I didn’t get it. Maybe I should’ve tried harder to break you in.”
Ava frowned back at him. “I don’t think relationships are supposed to be broken in like a new pair of shoes, Henry.”
He let out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Opening the donut box, Henry took one for himself before shoving a plain glazed at Ava. She took it with a small “thank you.”
Before she could even take a bite, he stood. “I should go. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Thanks for the donuts.” She hesitated for a moment. “And for understanding.”
“Sure.”
He left her with way too many donuts and an uncomfortable knot in her stomach because he was right.
Dr. Davenport had always been easier than Ava. Throwing herself into being a student and then a doctor helped to fill a void. She needed to feel useful—needed to believe that if she could fix other people, maybe she could fix herself too.
When Jay left, she lost more than a relationship. She lost a part of herself she hadn’t known was Jay-shaped until it was gone. Medicine gave her something to hold onto. It was her purpose, but it was also a distraction.
No matter how many patients she treated or how many shifts she survived, though, the emptiness never really left.
Henry never really did stand a chance. And she never should have let Jay take so much of her.
Brushing off donut crumbs and discomfort, Ava returned to the hallway, ready to lose herself in her patients.
Maybe Vickie would let her pull a double.
Eighteen hours later, Ava was yawning in an elevator, cradling a bouquet of sunflowers. Exhaustion pressed down on every muscle, but she was making one last stop before heading home.
She’d debated getting marigolds this time, but the sunflowers always caught her eye in the gift shop downstairs. They were so vibrant and full of life, which was what Ari’s room desperately needed. Though she’d already gotten him some sunflowers before, she didn’t think he'd mind.
At the door, she knocked, checking for nurses. Hearing none, she pushed through, heading for the vase where last week’s sunflowers had wilted. As she reached to swap them, movement caught the corner of her eye.
Jay lay awkwardly on a recliner-turned-cot, draped in hospital sheets and stirring awake. He ran his fingers through his hair—now black, not blue.
The sight of him knocked her off balance.
All she could manage to say was: “You dyed your hair?”
He sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily. “Uh, hey. Yeah. I did.”
Ava stood in place, looking at the boy who used to knock on her bedroom window, not the man with the blue hair who had turned volatile and unpredictable.