Page 60 of Doctor Hot Mess

7:11 PM

I breathea sigh of relief as I step into the elevator to walk out to the parking garage. This shift has been a doozy.

The conversation with Jonah has been looping endlessly in my mind. I can still feel the shift in his energy, like the click of a lock turning. One moment, he was there with me, present and vulnerable. The next, he’d shut down completely, retreating behind a wall so thick I couldn’t even knock on it.

As the elevator doors close, my phone beeps in my bag. It’s a text from Mason.

We still on for District 21? Are you off yet?

My blue scrubs aren’t exactly swanky bar attire, but knowing Mason, he’ll appreciate the fact that he will look more stunning than me.

Walking to the car now. I'll see you in 10.

Also, I don't want any shit about my scrubs. I'm not going home to change, so deal.

Scrubs are chic. Medical Barbie realness. See you soon.

The downtown hotspot is everything Mason promised it would be: dimly lit, sleek, and overpriced.

The bar glows in soft golds and blues, with polished marble counters and a crowd of patrons who look like they’ve never rushed a day in their lives. I spot Mason immediately. He’s at a corner table, dressed to the nines in a tailored blazer, crisp white shirt, and a pocket square that matches the shimmering violet of his drink.

He beams when he sees me. He stands to wave me down dramatically. “There she is! My favorite overachiever, fresh from saving lives. Let’s hope you sanitized before entering my presence.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “Relax, I’m cleaner than this entire establishment. Including you.”

“Rude,” he says, but his eyes twinkle as he gestures to the seat across from him. “Sit. Drink. I'm ordering you a gimlet because it will change your life. But if you hate it, I'll drink it, and you can order something else.”

“I’ll take whatever’s strong enough to dull the day,” I say, collapsing into the chair. "You're in charge. I don't want to make any decisions for a while."

He raises an eyebrow, signaling the server with a subtle flick of his wrist. “Ah, a long day calls for a strong cocktail. I’m sure you'll love the 'gimmie.' Trust me—you’ll thank me later.”

The server disappears, and Mason leans forward. His expression shifts from playful to curious. “Alright, let's hear it. You’ve got that look—the one where your brain’s working overtime, and I’m the lucky recipient of the HGD—the Harper Gray Download.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “It’s Jonah. We had coffee earlier at the hospital, and... God, Mason, I watched him shut down right in front of me. One second, we were talking about his sister, and the next, it was like someone flipped a switch. He’s carrying so much, and it’s all bottled up in that pretty little head.”

Mason tilts his head, studying me. “You're talking about the Jane Doe you adopted and nursed back to health?”

I nod, fiddling with the edge of my napkin. “Yeah. That's the one. If Jonah is a hot mess, she's a flaming house fire."

"Do tell."

"She’s staying with him now, I told you that, right?"

"Yeah, healing, right? Didn't she end up back in the hospital with a collapsed lung or something?"

"Look at you. You do listen to me," I coo affectionately. "She's back at his place, still healing. But now the police are wanting to question her."

"Back up. Police, as in five-oh?"

"Yup. All he knew when we talked today was that they want to question her in connection to a 'string of crimes.'"

"Holy, shit," he exclaims.

"Those were exactly my words when he told me. He thinks it's probably connected to her gambling problems."

"Do cops come and question you about gambling?"

"I mean, I guess if you're doing something illegal. Is gambling legal? I don't even know. He said she's always been on the fringes of trouble."

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