I watch, transfixed, as Elle concentrates on the movements. Her brow furrows with determination, her lips pressed together. Even from here, I can see the sheen of sweat on her forehead from the effort.
God, she is beautiful. Her long brown hair is twisted up into a messy bun on top of her head. Loose hair falls, framing her face.
Something twists inside my chest at the sight of her like this. She’s vulnerable yet resilient, wounded but refusing to be broken. It stirs up a surge of protectiveness and tenderness that catches me off guard.
Elle glances up and meets my gaze through the window as if sensing my presence. Surprise spreads across her face, followed by a tentative smile.
I take that as my cue to enter. "Hey there," I say softly, not wanting to disrupt the session. I was just down the hall checking on another patient and saw you two hard at work. I was just admiring your tenacity. I didn’t mean to interrupt."
The therapist waves off my apology. "No worries; we were just finishing up.” She helps Elle clean the putty off her hand, carefully wraps her hand and arm on a backing board, and then places them in a sling.
"In that case, would you mind if I walked you back to your room?” I offer, hoping I don’t sound too eager. I've got a few minutes before my next surgery."
“I'd like that. Thanks, Shep.”
My heart stumbles at the sound of my name on her lips, so familiar yet new all at once.
“Don’t forget to work on those few exercises we practiced,” the therapist says as she puts her canvas bag on her shoulder and heads toward the door. “I’ll be by your room in a few hours for round two.”
“I’m on it,” Elle says back.
I help her up from the chair, acutely aware of her nearness as we exit the therapy room side by side.
As we walk back to Elle's room, I can't help but marvel at how natural it feels to walk with her like this again, even after all these years. Our banter flows effortlessly, the playful quips and teasing reminders of the easy rapport we once shared.
"You know, I was planning to bring you something better than hospital food for dinner tonight," I mention casually, glancing over at her. "But I need to get back home to Opie."
My mind flashes to Ari’s situation, the unanswered questions, and the rising concern. But I push those thoughts aside, for now, not wanting to burden Elle with my personal drama.
"How about a rain check?" I suggest, instead, an idea forming. "I could bring something from my favorite restaurant in Birmingham tomorrow if you're up for it. We could have dinner together, give you a break from the oh-so-gourmet hospital cuisine."
Elle laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. "I'd love that, Shep. Although I must admit, I've had worse than the food here."
"Well, prepare to have your mind blown," I tease, grinning. "I'll let you know tomorrow if I can make it happen."
We reach her room far too quickly for my liking. Reluctant to leave her company, I linger in the doorway.
Regrettably, I say, "I hate to run, but duty calls. I might have to come back by after surgery to check on my patient down the hall, though.” The small fib rolls off my tongue before I can stop it. “If I do, I'll poke my head in to say bye.”
Elle smiles softly, a knowing glint in her eye that makes me wonder if she sees right through my flimsy excuse. “I'll be here. Don't work too hard, Dr. Duncan.”
“No promises,” I reply with a cheesy wink, backing out of her room. Oh my God. Why did I wink?
As I walk away, I'm already counting down the hours until I can see her again, my mind buzzing with the idea of bringing her dinner tomorrow. I’m toeing a dangerous line, letting myself get drawn back into her orbit. But right now, basking in the afterglow of her smile, I can't bring myself to care.
2:22 pm
I walk out of the scrub room after my last surgery of the day and head to the surgical waiting room to update family members that we are done with surgery. Pulling down my facemask, I’m grateful for the unobstructed fresh air that fills me.
The hospital corridors are filled with heightened activity, replacing the usual craziness. Nurses and doctors rush by, their faces etched with concern and urgency. Maintenance crew members are in every direction. Something big is going down.
I grab the arm of a passing nurse. "What's happening?"
"Pipe burst on the west end," she explains hurriedly. "It's causing major flooding in that wing. They're trying to contain it now, but we are trying to secure empty beds on this side to move patients.”
After speaking with Mr. Anderson’s wife, I come back to the computer to chart a few things from his surgery while they are fresh in my mind. The surrounding commotion is almost dizzying. Staff rush past, their voices blending into a constant hum.
I catch snippets of conversations about the water main line bursting and the fallout from the patients all the way down to supply closets. It’s a mess, but thankfully, the OR is on the opposite side of the hospital, so it isn’t my immediate problem.