Page 33 of A Prescription to My Heart

A muscle jumps in his cheek, and for a long second, I think he’s going to refuse.

Dr. Savoie glances between us, a twitch pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I think we ladies can take care of the rest of this, Calloway,” she says, making Marigold giggle a little when she winks.

Soren frowns at her, but then his gaze softens and drifts to Marigold, her small fingers curled around the blanket, her eyes fluttering at him. The tight lines around his face loosens.

“Fine,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face. “But if anything—”

“I’ll call you,” I finish for him. “Go.”

He exhales, nods once, and after pressing a kiss to Marigold’s forehead, he steps out of the ward.

The moment he’s gone, Dr. Savoie chuckles and gives me a look.

“You wanna tell me whatthatwas all about?”

A flush warms my face. “Nothing.”

“Seemed like something to me,” the ER nurse teases.

Dr. Savoie laughs, but I ignore them and turn my attention back to Marigold, who’s watching me with that same cheeky glint in her eyes I saw the first day we met.

“So, what now, Nurse Talia?” she asks.

I grin. “Now, I make you say ridiculous words until you beg me to stop.”

She giggles. “Oh, you’re on.”

I settle onto the edge of her bed and start slow. “She sells seashells by the seashore.”

Marigold scrunches her nose. “Easy. She sells seashells by the she—” She fumbles, breaks into laughter. “Wait, wait! I can do it!”

I smirk. “Okay, let’s try again.”

She attempts it three more times before giving up, and I throw out harder ones—“Betty bought a bit of butter” and “Six slippery snails slid slowly seaward”—until she’s gasping between laughter, clutching her stomach.

“You’re evil,” she groans dramatically.

“I know,” I say smugly. “But you love me for it.”

Marigold hums, grinning, then suddenly yawns. Dr. Savoie wraps up, tells me she’ll be just fine, and heads out.

Alone now, I smooth a hand over Marigold’s hair, my voice dropping to something softer. “Lie still for a bit, okay? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Her lids droop. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

She nods sleepily, already halfway gone, and I gently adjust the blanket around her.

Before stepping out, I ask the ER nurse. “Can you sit with her for a while? I just need to check something.”

The nurse nods, and with one last glance at Marigold, I slip into the hallway.

Emergency is quieter now, a brief lull in the chaos. The overhead lights hum faintly, the scent of antiseptic clinging to the air. I walk briskly, my thoughts still tangled in Marigold’s laughter, in the way she had momentarily forgotten she was even in a hospital.

Hospitals have a way of amplifying tension. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and worry, and no matter how many times I walk these halls, I can always feel it clinging to my skin. But this? This is different.

I have to check on a few patients in Pediatrics, but work as quickly as I can. By the time I’m done, about an hour has passed. I hurry back down to Emergency, but find Dr. Savoie has moved Marigold up to Pediatrics for what the nurses says is “monitoring,” but what I know must have been Soren’s insistence to keep his daughter close.

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