Page 24 of Nicky

“Better?” Nicky asked, his fingers lightly brushing the armrest of my chair as he stepped back, close but not intrusive.

“Better,” Carl grumbled, though he shot Nicky a look that said he’d rather not admit it.

“We’ll get some broth sent up, too,” I said, tapping into the system on my tablet to place the request. “That’ll help get your hydration back up, but you’ve got to make drinking water a priority, Carl. It’s not optional—it’s essential.”

Carl sighed, shaking his head with mock indignation. “You doctors. Always with the lectures.”

“Only because I like having you around to tease me,” I countered. “Take care of yourself.”

I glanced at the hardworking CNA. “Stay with him, make sure he drinks a bit more water while we wait. I’ll check on something and swing back.”

Nicky gave a quick nod. As I left, their voices carried after me—Carl grumbling good-naturedly while Nicky coaxed him with just the right balance of humor and care.

I couldn’t help but think about what made Carl such a memorable patient. It wasn’t just his sharp humor or his way of turning every moment into a story worth telling—it was his resilience, the way he faced life head-on, even in moments of vulnerability.

And then there was Nicky. Watching him work, with his gentle persistence and unwavering attention to detail, I realized he shared some of that same quality. Nicky had a way of seeing people that made them feel safe and cared for. It wasn’t just skill; it was who he was.

By the time I returned, the broth had already arrived, and Nicky was holding the bowl steady as Carl sipped. Carl gave a dramatic sigh, then smirked. “He has a knack for bossing me around.”

“You’ve got to follow the doctor’s orders,” Nicky urged gently. “We can’t have you running on empty.”

“You should give him a raise, Doc.”

I leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. The way Nicky worked—calm, attentive, patient—it was something youcouldn’t teach. Carl wasn’t just a patient to him; he was a person, and Nicky saw him fully.

By the time we finally left, Carl looked like a different man. His eyes were brighter, his humor sharper. In the hallway, I stopped and turned to Nicky.

“Good catch,” I said, watching how his shoulders straightened at the words. “Dehydration can sneak up on people, especially someone Carl’s age. I’ll keep an eye on him and follow up.”

The way he looked at me, like I’d just handed him the moon, made my chest tighten. I turned toward my office before the words I shouldn’t say spilled out. Words like,I’m into you. Would you consider being my boy?

I shook my head at myself as I walked away. Nicky wasn’t just good at his job—his natural warmth and quiet competence made him the kind of person others instinctively trusted. It was impossible not to admire those qualities professionally, but more and more, I realized how much I admired them personally, too.

Later, as I checked on Carl before leaving for the day, he greeted me with a sly grin.

“You two are worse than my mother was,” he said. “But I’ll admit, that broth hit the spot.”

I shook my head, fighting a smile. “We’ll run some labs just to be safe,” I added, tapping into my tablet. “In the meantime, keep up with fluids. We’ll check in again tomorrow.”

As I walked away, his soft chuckle trailed behind me, warm and reassuring. And yet, it wasn’t Carl I was thinking about.

My resolve to keep things professional with Nicky felt shakier than ever. Carl’s story about Henry lingered in my mind—a reminder that some chances are worth taking. Maybe it wasn’t just Carl who needed to reevaluate what really mattered.

CHAPTER 12

Nicholas

I was running on fumes, my body protesting every step as I made my way to the staff locker room. A long day of Christmas party prep had drained me—stringing lights around the main hall, setting up the “Memory Lane” photo station, and hanging garlands until my arms ached. But there was a satisfaction in it, too. It felt good to be part of something bigger than just my shift, to see the residents excited about a party that was really for them.

I turned the corner, the faint hum of the overhead lights buzzing in the quiet hallway. That was when I saw him.

Markus was standing there, his posture impeccable as always, but there was something in the way he was holding himself—something different that made my pulse pick up. I tried not to let it show, but the breath in my chest caught. He looked… I don’t know, maybe it was the way his sleeves were rolled up, like he’d been working hard too. Or maybe it was the quiet energy around him, the same kind of energy I could never quite place when he was near.

"Nicky.”

I stopped in my tracks. "It's Nicho—" I swallowed the instinct to correct him.

The way he said my name. His voice was low and smooth, like it always was, but there was something different about it this time—it felt personal, like he was savoring the sound of my name, making it his own. Like he was saying my name with more care, more attention than usual.

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