Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Dr. Savage,” Haleigh’s firm voice cut through the hallway as Grier stepped off the elevator onto the Integrated Health department floor.
The chill in her tone tightened every muscle in Grier’s body.
She scanned for the source and locked eyes with Haleigh—her already frazzled nerves sparked beneath her as her body braced instinctively for a fight.
“Dr. Rhodes?” Grier could feel the alarm in her throat, seeping into her voice.
“A word, please? In your office.” Haleigh nodded curtly, motioning Grier ahead of her. She followed in silence.
Grier unlocked the door and stepped inside. Haleigh entered behind her, pulling the door shut. Her posture relaxed—only slightly—now that they were in private.
“You’re scaring me a bit, Haleigh. What’s going on?”
Grier’s voice was steady, but she was still on edge from her morning with Tobin.
From that change in her eyes after she told her she loved her for the second time—dark, guarded, distant.
Tobin had voraciously fucked the fear out of her in the shower afterward.
But Grier couldn’t lie to herself about what she saw.
And Tobin’s decidedly happy mood after their shower was suspiciously upbeat.
Grier couldn’t put her finger on exactly what she was feeling— but she knew she shouldn’t feel like this after confessing her love to someone. And she was pretty sure Tobin knew it too.
Tobin had spent the rest of the morning chattering— relentlessly cheerful, borderline performative. It felt to Grier like she was deliberately trying to prevent real conversation, filling the space between them just to keep it full, to avoid heavier topics, to avoid truths.
By the time Grier left this morning, Tobin had covered everything from the day’s weather to unsolicited peach preservation tips—how best to freeze them now that they were cut but uneaten.
And then she kissed Grier goodbye—overly emphatic, almost theatrical.
Not at all typical of the sweeter, softer kisses that she offered most mornings.
The ones where they lingered in each other’s embrace, swaying together and inhaling each other’s scent, letting it imprint in their brains until the next time they were together.
This morning, Tobin had kissed her hungrily, smiled wickedly, and then actually escorted her out to her car, even going so far as to shut the door behind her.
Not at all like the chivalrous lover she’d conspicuously tried to convey.
More like she was making certain she’d actually leave. And was rushing her out the door.
Grier’s brain was abuzz with insecurity. And walking into the hospital where she was greeted by Haleigh’s rushed interception did not bode well for what was to come.
“We have two problems. You might want to sit.” Haleigh gestured to the desk chair as she sat in one of the chairs opposite Grier.
Grier sat without logging into her computer. Whatever Haleigh was about to say, it going to require her full attention.
“Jonah was readmitted last night—and it’s bad.” Haleigh’s eyes met hers, and Grier felt the sympathy in the look more than saw it. Her own eyes were already welling, releasing the burning tears she’d been fighting since Tobin’s expression shifted.
“He can’t bear weight. He’s lost at least ten pounds. His lungs are full of fluid, and he’s septic.”
“No.”
Grier swiped at her tears, futilely. She stood, grabbing her lab coat. She had to see him—to evaluate Jonah herself, because surely Haleigh was wrong. Jonah was in remission. He was doing well. This couldn’t be the end of his story. Not like this.
“I need to see him.”
Haleigh intercepted her at the edge of her desk and placed both hands on Grier’s shoulders.
They didn’t touch often, and this was entirely too intimate for Grier to handle right now.
A sob broke from her throat, and Haleigh pulled her into her chest, holding her while she cried—briefly, because this wasn’t the time or place for a breakdown.
She needed to get a grip on her emotions, or she would be no use to Jonah.
“You can’t see him right now,” Haleigh said gently. “He’s in radiology.”
She was still holding her.
Grier forced herself to take a steadying breath, then stepped back away and returned to her chair.
Haleigh grabbed a fresh tissue from the box on her desk and wiped at her cheeks. The gesture was more intimate than anything Grier had experienced with her before, and it fueled the sense of kinship she felt with the other physician. In that moment, she was profoundly grateful for the kindness.
“You said we have two problems,” Grier said quietly. “I don’t think I want to ask what the second one is.” Grier was already certain she knew where this was going, and who the responsible party would be.
“You don’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway,” Haleigh scoffed, irritation sluicing through her voice. That was all the confirmation Grier needed to confirm her suspicions.
“Vanders wants him scheduled for immediate amputation.”
Grier’s head swam, and her vision danced with black dots. Of course he did.
“That’s not even slightly surprising—or helpful, Haleigh! I’m not a surgeon, and even I know his body can’t survive surgery right now. What is he thinking?”
“He’s not,” Haleigh said, voice tight. “And that’s the problem.”
Grier saw the anger and fear on her friend’s face, and for once, knew she was not alone.
“What about Dr. Miles?” she asked, grasping for hope. “He has to have more sense than Vanders.”
Grier practically begged, sending waves of hope into the universe—anything—to protect Jonah and give him a fighting chance.
“Dr. Miles is out sick. Pneumonia.” Haleigh sighed. “I put a call into him, but his wife is gatekeeping everything until he improves.”
“Shit.” Grier’s anxiety climbed as her hope dwindled. She brought her hands into her lap, twirling her fingers in restless circles.
“So, what do we do, Haleigh?”
“We have to stall Vanders until Dr. Miles can be contacted.” Haleigh’s voice was firm. “I’m confident he’ll back us, but Vanders is in charge while he’s out. There are only a few things that can stop him right now.”
“And what are those things?” Grier asked.
She would literally do anything to buy Jonah some time. To heal. To fight. To live.
“Our most viable approach is through grand rounds—to have the majority votes present place an injunction on the surgery until Dr. Miles can return or Jonah stabilizes,” Haleigh said, her eyes drifting up in thought.
“But that would mean overtly petitioning the others. Vanders would be hyper aware of our subterfuge. Which would only make the relationship worse.”
“Fuck him,” Grier hissed under her breath.
“I thought you might feel that way,” Haleigh said dryly.
“I’ve already reached out to a few people.
They agree with us, but… they’re also terrified of Vanders.
” Haleigh leaned forward on her crossed legs, pursing her lips in frustration.
“He has the power to ruin a lot of careers in this hospital, and no one is particularly eager to subject their reputations to his wrath.”
“Who cares about reputations? Seriously! This is a child!” Grier’s voice trembled with fury.
“He needs us to put our egos aside and make the best decisions for him. Christ—when did we become such cowards?” She was shaking now, tears streaming unchecked across her cheeks.
She didn’t even bother with the tissues anymore—she let them fall.
“I know, Grier. I’m sorry.” Haleigh’s expression was carved in resignation.
“You don’t think we can stop him,” Grier said quietly. Her statement a fact not yet realized. Her voice cracked with heartache, as recognition settled over her. Haleigh was here as a courtesy to Grier, to be the one to deliver the news, to be the one to commiserate.
Haleigh’s face softened. She looked at Grier with a sadness so encompassing that Grier had to look away. “No, I think Vanders will dismiss—or circumvent—anything we try.”
How could this be happening? Grier closed her amber eyes, forcing the last of her tears to make their death march down her cheeks.
She inhaled deeply, and exhaled as she counted to four.
Then she rose, grabbed her lab coat, and walked to the door.
With one hand on the handle, she turned back to Haleigh.
“I’m going to check on him, and them I’m going to talk to Vanders. Are you coming?”
Haleigh met her eyes—empathy and a flicker of pride in her eyes—and stood. “I’m with you, Grier.”
They walked in silence, Haleigh leading the way to the PICU where Jonah was roomed. They were four doors down when a pair of nurses rounded the corner with a gurney.
Jonah lay on it—thin, pale and sedated, though his body rested agitatedly on it.
Molly walked beside him, holding his inert hand. She looked thinner, paler than the last time Grier had seen her.
Grier was not prepared.
She stopped cold. The hallway tilted beneath her feet, and she reached for Haleigh to steady herself. A sob caught in her throat. Haleigh cleared her own throat loudly, trying to cover it.
The sounds distracted Molly, who looked at them with a ghostly pallor. Grier watched Molly’s shoulders fall while fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
She gave Jonah’s hand a trembling squeeze before walking towards them. Without a word, she folded into them.
The three of them huddled together, comforting each other in the only way they could.
Minutes passed—maybe longer—before they withdrew from each other. Six sets of wet eyes looked between each other, and still no one spoke.
There was nothing to say.
“Have you spoken to anyone on the medical team this morning, Molly?” Haleigh asked gently, her voice the first to regain composure.
Molly shook her head somberly, wiping the tears from her face with the pads of her fingers. “No one is saying anything. The nurses keep saying oncology will be in when the tests are reviewed, but their eyes—” she choked, her poise collapsing, “—their eyes give them away.”