Page 45 of A Prescription to My Heart

This is a mistake.

Not because I don’t want to see her—no, that would be simple. The problem is that Idowant to see her, and I don’t know what to do with that.

So, I stick to my routine. Patients. Charts. Checking vitals. Nodding at the other nurses. Business as usual.

Except it’s not.

When I enter the room, Talia freezes for several seconds then straightens from where she’s been leaning over a patient’s bed, her fingers stilling on the blanket she was adjusting. She looks up, and for the briefest moment, something I can’t quite place flickers across her face.

Then it’s gone.

“Dr. Calloway,” she says, her voice careful.

My throat feels too dry. “Nurse Vance.”

Her lips press together like she’s trying not to react to that.

I clear my throat and step forward, scanning the patient’s chart, pretending like I can’t feel the awkwardness settling into the air like thick humidity before a storm.

Talia shifts on her feet, the movement slight but noticeable. I glance up, just in time to catch her eyes darting to the door. She wants to leave. I can’t even blame her.

We’re both standing here, pretending last night didn’t happen, pretending like I didn’t see her curled up in my daughter’s bed, like I didn’t reach out and—

Nope. Not thinking about that.

“How’s Mr. Dawson’s recovery?” I ask instead.

Talia blinks, like she wasn’t expecting me to speak. Then she shifts into professional mode. “He’s responding well. Fever broke last night, and his vitals are stable.”

“Good.” I nod, feigning glancing at the monitors through I already know everything’s well. “Any concerns?”

“No, nothing major.”

I glance to her again, and Talia’s looking at me, but the second our eyes meet, she looks away.

“Okay.” I turn for the door. “Keep monitoring him.”

“Will do,” she says.

“Alright then,” I say abruptly, nearly out the door. “I’ll see you—”

“Yes,” she cuts in quickly. “See you.”

But she needed to reach for something and we nearly bump into each other. It’s so ridiculous that I almost laugh. Surprising myself. But I stop it, because I know that would only make things worse.

Instead, I make a beeline for the door, practically escaping the room, and I don’t exhale until I’m halfway down the hall.

This is going to be a long day.

I barely make it through my last consultation when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Glancing at the screen, I hesitate.

Lisa’s parents.

Why are they calling? They must want something. I shut my office door for privacy before answering.

“Hello?”

“Soren.” Camille’s voice is smooth but clipped. “How are you?”

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