Page 25 of Doctor Hot Mess

I stare into my coffee, my jaw tightening. “I don’t know. She’s always been... Lila. Chaotic. Irresponsible. But the fact that all of her stuff she showed up with is still at my place, something feels off.” The words feel foreign in my mouth—admitting uncertainty, worry. “I guess I’ll give it another day before I start calling around.”

Shep shrugs. “Might not hurt to check in sooner. I'm sure you've tried calling her, right? I know how you have an aversion to calling women.”

"You never miss a chance at getting a dig in, do you?" I mutter, more annoyed at myself than at him.

"Sorry, Bro. I'm just trying to lighten the mood. I'm just messing with you."

"All good. I deserve it.” I roll my shoulder, trying to shake the tension creeping up my neck. “To answer your question, yeah, I called her yesterday. Straight to voicemail. She didn’t call back.”

“Then call her again,” Shep says, leaning back like that solves everything. “And if there’s anything I can do, let me know. I know I’m giving you a hard time, but you know I’m here for you.”

I glance at him, wondering when he got so wise. “Yeah, I do. I appreciate it, man. I’ll try her again. Thanks.”

The truth is, this is exactly why I don’t let people in too close—because suddenly, they’re occupying space in your head, and you’re stuck wondering if you’re doing enough or if you should be doing more. People like Lila come with strings, and I’ve spent years making sure my life is string-free. But here I am, running through every possible worst-case scenario because she’s my little sister, and I can’t just not care.

I clench my jaw. I could drive myself crazy with what-ifs, or I could focus on work. At least surgery doesn’t have emotional baggage.

Before the conversation can go any deeper, my pager buzzes, and I glance down. Trauma alert. The perfect excuse to escape whatever I’m feeling right now.

“I’ve gotta go,” I say, standing. “Thanks for the unsolicited therapy session.”

Shep smirks. “Anytime. And hey, if you find her, tell her she owes me a drink for making you this grouchy. I'm not used to seeing my smooth, cool and collected friend all hot and bothered.”

I flip him off as I head for the door, but his laughter follows me down the hall.

As I make my way toward the trauma bay, I push the unease about Lila aside. Work is where I’m steady. Focused. The calm in the storm. But the nagging thought lingers: Where the hell is she?

2:17PM

The doorto the staff hallway swings shut behind me, the lingering adrenaline from the last few hours finally starting to ebb.

A quick consult turned into assisting in an emergency procedure—it always does. My mind’s already racing through what’s next when I turn the corner and nearly plow into someone.

“Whoa,” I say, stepping back just in time.

Of course, it's her. Harper.

She’s not in scrubs today, which throws me for a second. She’s wearing a simple pair of dark jeans and a forest-green sweater that hugs her just right. Her hair is loose, falling around her shoulders in soft waves. I need to take a second breath because, damn, she looks...well, not like she’s about to scrub into the ER.

“Sorry about that,” I say quickly, taking a step back to give her space. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Thought you were off today?”

She arches an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “And you know my schedule because...?”

I hesitate, caught. “Because I might’ve glanced at it,” I admit with a small shrug. “I like to know who I’ll be working with.”

Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t let the smile fully form. “Well, in that case, I’m not on duty.”

I nod, but curiosity gets the better of me. “So, what are you doing here?”

Harper moves her head slightly, her tone light but her words pointed. “Are you checking up on me, Jonah?”

I chuckle softly, raising my hands. “Just making conversation. You’re not exactly blending in. I typically choose to do almost anything other than coming to the hospital on my days off.”

She sighs, glancing down the hallway as if considering whether to end this exchange. “A patient came in over the weekend,” she says finally. “No family. No visitors. I just wanted to check on her. She tugs at my heart a little.”

Her words pull me up short, and for a moment, I just look at her. Of course, Harper would go out of her way for someone like that. It’s who she is—always giving more than what’s asked, more than what’s expected.

Harper’s always been like this—invested, compassionate, going the extra mile. “That’s...really kind of you,” I say, meaning it. “Not everyone would do that. That patient was lucky to land in your lap.”

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