Page 26 of Doctor Hot Mess

She shrugs, brushing off the compliment. “It’s nothing.”

But it’s not nothing, and we both know it. I watch her for a beat, trying to think of something else to say, something to bridge the growing gap between us. Instead, all I manage is, “Well, I’m sure it means something to her.”

Her gaze softens slightly, and for a brief moment, it feels like we’re back to how things used to be. But just as quickly, the moment passes.

“Right,” I say, stepping aside. “Take care, Harper.”

“You too,” she replies, her tone polite but distant.

Take care?!What the hell am I, ninety-five??

I can’t help but mentally kick myself. Damn, I should’ve said something more clever. Maybe invited her for a cocktail after work. I don’t know, thrown up a white flag. Hell, begged her to give me a chance to be a good friend again. Anything but that awkward, hollow goodbye.

I watch her walk away, the weight of our fractured friendship settling in my chest again. It’s strange how someone can feel so close and so far away at the same time.

2:47PM

I’m sittingin my office, scanning through patient notes and finishing my fourth cup of coffee today. It’s been a long day, and my brain is already halfway to my couch.

Lila’s been on my mind all day, though. Going on three days now without a word. It may be typical for her, but since she came to me, I feel responsible.

I tried again this morning, but it went straight to voicemail again. It’s evident she doesn't want to be reached. Maybe I’ll try calling her again before I head home.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. I glance up to see Harper standing in the doorway. The sight of her catches me off guard—not because she’s here, but because she’s the last person I expected to come looking for me. Her expression—a mix of hesitation and determination—puts me immediately on edge.

“Harper?” I say, setting my coffee cup down, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. For a split second, hope flickers. Maybe this is it—her way of offering an olive branch, a chance to end this awkward stand-off and get back to the way things were before.

“What’s up?” I add, trying to sound casual despite the way my pulse ticks up.

She steps inside. Her movements are deliberate, and she closes the door behind her. “Jonah, I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, leaning back in my chair. Her tone is serious—too serious. My pulse kicks up. “What’s going on?”

She hesitates, her gaze flicking to the floor for a split second before meeting mine again. “It’s about that patient I mentioned when we ran into each other a little bit ago. She's the one that came in on Saturday. I didn't think to mention, but she was a Jane Doe.”

A patient? Why would she come to me about that?

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my desk. “Can I help? If there’s anything I can do, just tell me.”

It makes me feel good to know Harper knows she can still come to me if she needs me. I will do whatever I can to help this patient she cares very much for.

Harper clears her throat, her hesitation uncharacteristic and unnerving. “I think... I’ve been taking care of your sister.”

The air between us goes still, her words landing like a punch. “What?” The question comes out sharper than I intend, but I can’t process what she’s saying. “What do you mean?”

She steps further into the office, her gaze steady but cautious. “She came in this weekend, like I said, unconscious and looking worse for the wear. She didn’t have ID, no family with her. Beaten up pretty badly. She didn’t remember much at first, but this morning, she said her name is Lila Bellinger. And that her brother is a surgeon at UAB. As soon as she said her last name, I put it together.”

My heart stutters. “Lila,” I repeat, like saying her name will make this all make sense. “She’s here? At the hospital?”

Harper nods. “She’s in the step-down unit. She’s stable, but... Jonah, she’s in rough shape.”

I rake a hand through my hair, pacing to the window and back. “Jesus, Harper. Why didn’t I know sooner? Why didn’t she come to me?”

“She’s had amnesia,” Harper explains gently. “At first, she didn’t even know where she was. And from what she told me, her memories are still patchy. Jonah, it’s not that she didn’t want to reach out—she couldn’t.”

Her words hit me like a bucket of cold water, stopping my pacing. Of course. I know how trauma and memory loss can work. Still, hearing it applied to Lila feels like a gut punch. “Right,” I say, exhaling slowly. “That makes sense.”

Harper steps closer. Her tone is steady but edged with a hint of caution. “She’s starting to remember now, but it’s fragile. Whatever happened to her left her rattled in more ways than one.”

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