Page 8 of Healed Hearts

His face softens, and that just pisses me off more. “We do know that, yes. But we still worry. Don’t you worry about Roman?”

Well, he’s got me there. It’s still annoying, though. “Yes, Beckett. I do worry about Roman,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “And you,” I add.

He inclines his head like his point made itself, and ugh—I guess it did. But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I admit that to him. “Can I go to bed now?”

He’s quiet for a minute, so I decide to use the opportunity to walk past him. I make it two steps before he’s grabbing my arm to stop me. “Was he nice to you?”

That question makes my skin itch, some long forgotten feeling burning through my stomach. And if he wasn’t, Beck? What would you do? Fuck up your perfect little world to protect me? I think not. I don’t say any of that, though. “Yeah, he was.” I pull my arm from his hold and walk into the house.

After I shower, I climb into bed, my body fully sated and relaxed. I’m almost asleep when I realize Beck didn’t even give me shit for calling him Beckett. I sit up, the blankets pooling around my waist. That makes me feel… strange. Wealwaysgive each other shit. That’s our thing. Why didn’t he give me shit back? I lie back down, pull the blankets up around me, and scowlat the ceiling. I swear, if he starts treating me differently, I’m going to kick his ass.

I wake up to pounding on my door, and for a split second, I forget where I am. I sit up quickly, my eyes darting around, before I realize and slump against the bed.

“CT, time for work,” Beck calls through the door. I roll my eyes and fling the blankets back. He randomly started calling me CT one day and really hasn’t stopped. I have no idea what it means or why he calls me that, but I would about bet it’s nothing good—something that I’m definitely going to kick his ass for when I figure it out.

A little zip of anxiety shoots through my stomach as I climb from the bed and head to the closet to get clothes. I’m equally terrified and excited about work today. I love my job, genuinely. I feel like I was made to do what I do. I never much considered doing anything but working in the ER. It’s where I started and I enjoy it. It’s fun and fast-paced. Intense sometimes, sure, but I like that. And more than that, I’m good at it. Pediatrics will be a major change, but I get to work with Beck’s mom, Lydia, and she’samazing.

I pull on my favorite scrubs—ones with puppies on them—and head out of the bedroom. I step into the hall bathroom and debate with myself. Should I wear eyeliner? I mean, it’s been fine in the ER, but what about peds? I didn’t even think about that before.

“Beckett!” I yell through the cracked door.

“Yeah?” he yells back.

“Eyeliner. Yes or no?”

He doesn’t answer, and for a minute, I think he’s going to ignore me. “Why are you asking me that?” he asks, his voice coming from right outside the bathroom.

“You can come in.” He does, pushing the door open further, and leans against the frame. “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate,” I say, shrugging.

“When my mom interviewed you, did you have it on?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Do you wear it every time we go to their house?”

I nod, not sure where he’s going with this.

“Then, yes. Wear it. She knows who you are, Hold. She wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”

His words hit me hard, and I’m not really sure why. I think whatever the fuck happened last night has me all out of sorts. Ugh, and now I’m thinking about last night again. Trying to shove those thoughts down, I nod, reaching up to grab my eyeliner off the shelf. Beck pats me on top of my head with a grin and walks away. I groan in irritation. I was an only child, but if this is what having an older brother is like, I’ll pass.

After applying my liner and a little clear lip gloss—you know, for good luck or whatever—I head into the kitchen. Roman’s made breakfast, but honestly, I’m too nervous to eat. I feel a bit like a brand new baby nurse all over again, not really knowing my ass from a hole in the ground.

I pick at my food, pushing it around on my plate while I wait for Ro and Beck to finish eating. They’re talking about the center and how excited Roman is about a fundraiser he has coming up, but I’m mostly ignoring them while trying not to think about Julian or my upcoming shift. To be honest, I’m trying to keep all thoughts from my head, since those are the two things that seem to be swirling around in the brain today.

“Holden?” Roman’s voice cuts through my thoughts, making me jolt.

“Yeah?” He’s looking at me like he’s been trying to get my attention for a while. Ugh. I hate when he’s worried about me.

“I asked if you had a good night,” he says, lifting a bite of eggs to his mouth.

Of course he would wanna talk about the one thing I want to forget. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you and Beck already discuss this? Like a couple of proud papas?” Ro looks a little taken aback, and it makes me feel like shit. I hate being shitty with him. I hate that I feel so strange inside. I sigh. “Yeah, I had a good night.”

He studies me for a second, but then smiles. “I’m glad. Are you excited about your first day in peds?”

Why does he keep asking me about all the things I don’t want to think about? Jesus Christ. “Yep, I am,” I mumble, looking down at my plate. The silence in the room is tense, and I hate it. I don’t know what my problem is, but I need to get over it. This is not at all fair to Ro. Or even Beck, for that matter.

“Well,” Beck says, tapping his hands on his thighs. “You ready to go?”

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