Chapter Fifteen Sloane
Chapter Fifteen
Sloane
“Did you know they were going to be here?” I asked Gabriel as soon as we sat down at our table. I didn’t like this. It felt like an ambush.
He sighed, looking guilty. “Ben did mention it earlier, but I didn’t realize until we passed by that it was right near the restaurant we were heading to. I thought they’d be gone by now. It’s been almost two hours since I last talked to Ben.”
“You should’ve told me before we went in,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Now you’ve put me in an awkward position.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I realize that now. I’m sorry.”
I was angry at him, and my mood was shot. I didn’t even want to be here anymore.
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I said I’m sorry.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t looking at him. My jaw was tight. I was doing everything I could to not snap.
“You really are angry...”
I pressed my lips together, then finally looked at him. “Let’s just... order a drink.”
Gabriel didn’t say anything at first. I could feel his eyes on me, searching for a crack, some sign that I’d let this slide. But I didn’t have it in me tonight.
“We’re just friends, having dinner and a drink,” he said carefully. “There’s nothing to be worried about, Sloane.”
Yes. Just friends.
I agreed to this dinner on a whim, thinking it might be nice to get out for a bit. But now, sitting here, it didn’t feel right.
Cameron was right there, still looking at me, and I was across the room with another guy.
I pulled my phone from my coat pocket and stared at the screen, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes as he looked at me.
I texted Cameron, needing to explain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
His reply came almost instantly. “I know. It’s okay.”
I stared at the screen, my heart softening. Why wasn’t he angry? He had every reason to be. To him, it must have looked like I was doing this on purpose, rubbing it in.
My phone buzzed again. “Did you have a nice dinner?”
God, Cameron. Don’t do this.
You’re making it more complicated than it already is.
I typed back: “I did.”
A moment later, his reply came. “Good.”
Then I stole a glance at him. He was talking to Ben now.
I took a closer look at him. He’d lost a lot of weight, and the shadows under his eyes had deepened. I’d been noticing it more and more lately.
Was he sleeping at all? Had he been eating properly?
Was someone taking care of him—Evie, maybe?
Cameron stayed with Anita the night he was with Harper, and I could only hope his mom had made sure he ate something on those nights.
He looked exhausted. I knew he’d crammed his schedule with more surgeries than anyone could reasonably handle. And with the hospital already short-staffed, it was clear they didn’t care how much it wore him down.
I stared at my phone again, wanting to ask if he’d had dinner before that drink. He couldn’t handle alcohol on an empty stomach; it always upset him.
He was sitting at the bar with Ben and Dean, and there were only glasses in front of them. No plates, no food. So I could only guess they’d gone straight to drinking without eating anything first.
“Sloane.” Gabriel’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I turned to him.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked.
I sighed. I really wasn’t in the mood for this anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
I stood, and Gabriel rose too, clearly caught off guard.
“Sloane, are you really that upset?”
“Thanks for dinner,” I said, trying to smile. “I’ll see you. Balcony, same time.”
“Hey,” he said gently, leaning in just a little. “Talk to me, Sloane. Please.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t feel right... being here with you. Not with him sitting just over there.”
“So let me take you home, at least,” he offered, looking slightly worried.
“I’m fine,” I replied, stepping away. “I’ll see you, okay? The glass balcony. Like always.”
I walked slowly, weaving around the tables, Gabriel’s gaze burning into my back.
Outside, the wind was sharp against my cheeks as I started down the sidewalk. Then I pulled out my phone. The thought had been eating at me, and I couldn’t let it go.
I typed a message.
To Ben.
“Make sure Cam eats something if he hasn’t. You know he can’t drink on an empty stomach.”
My eyes were open wide, but what I saw in front of me couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.
The world around me shifted and crumbled. Time folded inward, dragging me backward into a place I thought I had left behind. A cold, suffocating fear wrapped around me, sharp and sudden like ice squeezing my chest.
I was that girl again, lost deep in a nightmare, frozen at the edge of the woods, staring into an endless fog that swallowed everything whole. The air was thick with uncertainty, heavy and gray. The weight in my chest tightened until I could barely breathe.
I tried. I tried to catch my breath, but it was like fighting a current pulling me under.
Voices slammed into my ears, sharp echoes from the past.
“You’re stronger than this, Sloane! You can’t let yourself feel too much. We can’t afford to be weak!”
But those words were not a lifeline. They were a noose tightening, a relentless pressure crushing me deeper into myself. No matter how shattered, no matter how exhausted, I was not allowed to fall apart. I had to hold it all together because it was the only way to survive.
I wanted to scream, to shout that I was barely holding on, that I was breaking. But all I could do was sink into the silence that swallowed me whole.
I was standing there, my vision blurring at the edges. My knees buckled, and I barely felt the ground as it rose to meet me. Everything slipped away like I was underwater, sounds muffled and distant. A voice tried to reach me, but it was just out of reach.
Then I heard it.
His voice.
“Sloane.” It cut through the haze, trembling with desperation. “Fuck, Sloane, come back.”
I tried to reach out, so close—his words almost within my grasp but slipping like smoke through my fingers.
“Sloane, it’s me. Cameron. Come back.”
I turned toward him, his face shimmering just beyond reach, near enough to feel, too distant to hold.
But he wasn’t supposed to be here.
He wasn’t part of this life.
And I couldn’t drag him into it.
I blinked hard with everything I had, as if the sheer force of will was enough to snap the world back into place.
Back to the one I knew.
Then everything gradually vanished into the dark.
And suddenly, everything was real again.
I woke up alone.
In my bed.
Another nightmare.
It had been like that almost every night lately.
“You’re hiding again,” Lina said, frowning as she spotted me sitting in the back of her tiny kiosk.
“It’s my lunch break,” I replied defensively, chewing on pasta straight from a carton.
“You’re avoiding everybody,” she pointed out.
I gaped at her. “How can I avoid everybody in my line of work?”
“You know what I mean. You’re avoiding Cameron and Gabriel.”
“I can’t avoid both. Especially Cam. I just sent two patients to him today. And every morning and night, I see him when he picks up and drops off Harper.”
“By the way,” Lina said, her voice softer, “have you two talked to Harper yet? She’s only five, but she picks up on things.”
I nodded; the memory was still sharp in my chest.
“We told her she’d be staying at her grandma’s with her dad two nights a week from now on,” I said quietly. “And every other weekend too.”
Lina looked at me carefully. “But... does she know you two are divorcing?”
I stared at her. “How is a five-year-old supposed to understand something like divorce?”
“How the hell should I know?” Lina threw up her hands. “I don’t have kids.”
“We told her she’d still go to school like usual, and that she’d still see both of us.”
“And what did she say?” Lina asked, her tone now softer.
“She just nodded and smiled,” I said. “Then she went right back to chatting with her dad like nothing happened.”
“You need to keep a closer eye on her, Sloane,” Lina said, concern lacing her voice. “Maybe she’s still processing all of this in her own way.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, “I know.”
I went back to eating and was halfway through my pasta when my pager beeped sharply. I glanced down and saw the alert: Pt #4723 post-op - possible complication. Eval ASAP.
That was one of Cameron’s patients from this morning’s surgery. My stomach tightened.
I tossed my pasta in the trash and stood. “Gotta go,” I said to Lina as I rushed out of her kiosk. “See you.” Then I ran out of there.
When I arrived in the ICU room, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. The nurse on duty glanced up from the chart, her jaw tight. Without a word, she gave me a tense nod.
The monitor’s beeping was uneven and urgent. The patient’s blood pressure was slipping—now 85 over 50—and the heart rate was slow and irregular, hovering around 40 beats per minute with occasional early beats.
I quickly washed my hands at the sink and put on gloves. Leaning over, I checked the carotid pulse. It was weak and uneven beneath my fingers. The patient’s face was pale and damp with a cold sweat.
“Preparing epinephrine and atropine,” the nurse said, drawing up syringes quickly. She double-checked the IV line and adjusted the fluid drip.
Just then, Cameron rushed in.
“Cam, bradycardia with low blood pressure. Possible conduction issue or vagal reaction after surgery.”
He nodded, sliding the defibrillator pads onto the patient’s chest.
I stayed focused on the monitors, watching for any change as the nurse prepared the medication.
Every second mattered.
The heart rate dipped again, skimming down to the high 30s. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.
“Give the atropine now,” I ordered.
The nurse injected the medication into the IV line. I kept my fingers on the pulse, waiting.
Within moments, the heart rate inched upward—52 and holding steady.
“Better,” Cameron said, eyes scanning the monitors.
I glanced at the blood pressure. It was creeping back up, 90 over 60.
“Keep the epinephrine nearby,” I said. “If her pressure drops again, we’ll need to use it.”
The room was quiet, tense. Everyone watched the monitor, waiting.
Then the monitor showed a steadier rhythm. Her breathing followed, slower now, less strained.
I exhaled quietly, then looked at Cameron. “We still need to watch closely. Let’s get an EKG and loop in cardio.”
He nodded. “I’ll call them now.”
The nurse adjusted the oxygen mask, then double-checked the IV and monitor leads.
“We’re not out of the woods,” Cameron said, eyes back on the screen. “But she’s holding.”
I mumbled a soft “yes” and finally stepped back from the bed. My shoulders ached, and now that the urgency had passed, the fatigue crept in fast.
Cameron glanced over. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” I said, nodding to the nurse before stepping out of the room. Cameron followed.
“Sloane, you look tired,” he said, walking beside me.
I met his eyes. “You look the same.”
Cameron gave me a small smile. “I am tired. But I’m hanging in there.”
“Yeah, me too,” I mumbled. Then I glanced at him again. “Did you have lunch yet?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
I stopped walking, and he did the same. I looked at him closely—he looked even more drained than last week at the bar. “You need to eat something,” I said.
“I will,” he said softly. “After this.” He studied my face. “You’ve got dark shadows under your eyes. Having trouble sleeping again?”
I sighed and kept walking. “I need to go.”
“Sloane,” he called after me, but I didn’t stop.
I passed by the surgical roster and checked Cameron’s schedule. Twenty minutes until his next surgery.
I headed to the cafeteria and grabbed a sandwich, then started looking for him. And I ran into Caroline, who told me Cameron was sleeping in her office.
I found him on the long couch, lying on his back, breathing slowly and deeply. I closed the door behind me carefully, not wanting to wake him, and stepped closer.
I set the sandwich down on the table in front of him, then stood still for a moment, watching.
Gently, I pressed a finger to my lips, then brushed his forehead softly.
Then I stepped back, the quiet ache in my chest pulling me silently out of the room.
Down the crowded hallway, I spotted Gabriel leaning against the wall, two cups of coffee in his hands.
I glanced at the cups, then up at him. “I can’t. I’m so busy.” My eyes flicked to the coffee in his hand, and I grabbed one. “I’ll find you when I have the time.”
“Or maybe we can do dinner again?” he offered, turning to walk with me.
I stopped and looked at him, considering. “Let me get back to you on that.”
Then I turned and walked away.