Page 49 of Dr. Fellow

I nod, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “More than I expected.”

I don’t know what I’m thinking. Morgan made it clear that she wasn’t interested in anything more than a physical friendship with me, and I made it clear that I couldn’t be anything more with her. The problem is that over the past week, I’ve found myself wondering if I could . . .

“Why is that distressing to you?” he asks, his voice gentle.

I shrug as memories of my life flash through my mind like a depressing movie reel, reminding me that I have no business feeling this way. “I’m not exactly the poster boy for how to have a healthy relationship.”

When I think about it, I didn’t have a single healthy relationship until I met Beau. After everything happened with my parents, I thought the only person I needed in my life was Lane. I clung to her like a lifeline, and she became the only thing I had in my life outside of medicine. It’s not that I didn’t want friends, I just didn’t value them because I didn’t think I needed anyone else other than her. But it turns out that’s a great way to have your whole world come crashing down in an instant.

“I disagree,” Dr. Kinkaid offers, leaning back thoughtfully. “You’ve been dealt some tough cards in life, Walker. Far more than most people. But you took those hands, and created something valuable. You were with your ex-wife for a long time. There was no lack of love, no abuse, nothing that would concern me about your ability to form true attachments. And the marriage ended because of nothing you did.”

“That’s not true,” I counter, suddenly feeling guilty. “I should have been a better husband.”

In the moments of forced silence, I’ve spent my time thinking about what I could have done differently in my marriage. While there were a ton of things I had no control over because of the nature of residency, I could have made it clear that she was still important to me—that her sacrifice was just as important as my own.

Dr. Kinkaid furrows his brow, studying me intensely. “We all can be better in something, whether it’s health, wealth, love, or even friendships. Life is a game of constant self-improvement and growth. You’ve taken a terrible life event and learned from it—that’s the definition of growth.”

Silence settles between us as I try to absorb his words.

“I guess I’m just worried that it’s going to happen again,” I say after a while.

A sly grin forms on his face as he nods in understanding. “Ah, yes. But what if it doesn’t?”

Chapter 19

Morgan

There was a time in my life when I lived for the chaos of the emergency room—the way you never know if you’re going to have a day that resembles Disneyland or a dumpster fire. Until recently, I truly believed that the best shifts were the ones that went up in flames because it’s when I would feel like I was the best nurse.

But something inside of me fundamentally shifted after my aneurysm case. It’s not like I haven’t witnessed some traumatic shit in my time on the floor—that’s simply the nature of the job, but this was different. Maybe it was the straw that broke the camel’s back after years of carrying the weight of death, or maybe it was the fact that I’ve never felt wholly helpless in a situation before, but for the first time in my career, I’ve dreaded coming to work.

I thought that after a few days, I would get over it, but I can’t shake this uneasy feeling every time I clock in. If I didn’t deeply love all of my coworkers, I would call out of work for the next month and use the time off to reset my perspective. But I have a guilty conscience and don’t want to leave them short-staffed, so I’ve been dragging my ass here whether I like it or not.

Unfortunately, today leaned more dumpster fire than Disneyland though, because the nursing home decided that they wanted to take a field trip to our ER this afternoon. If I have to do CPR on another ninety-eight-year-old grandmother, I might just burn the whole hospital down. For the love of all things that are holy, do not resuscitate orders exist for a reason. People should use them.

As I’m walking out of the hospital and bopping to Taylor Swift’s new album, Siri announces that I have a call coming in from Claire Winters.

“What’s up, slut,” I answer, completely forgetting that I’m still within earshot of people as I wait for the parking garage elevator. Fortunately, they are also exhausted healthcare workers with potty mouths, so none of them even bat an eye.

“Do you have a second to talk? Find Friends notified me that one of my Sims had finally left the hospital, so I figured it was okay to call.”

I laugh and decide to take the stairs. “Who else do you have on there?”

“Just you, Cass, Caroline, and Beau,” she answers. “Doctor Dickhead won’t agree to let me add him. He thinks it’s an invasion of privacy, or something, which is shocking given his control issues. I don’t know, I stopped listening when he started talking about life before cell phones and the internet like he remembers it. The dumbass was born in 1992.”

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it.

“Do you think when God made him, he forgot to add anything good?”

Oops—I said it.

Claire giggles, knowing we’re on the same page about her brother. It’s a love-hate relationship.

“Wait,” I add, considering what she just said. “Cass didn’t work today. She shouldn’t be at the hospital.”

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