Page 6 of A Prescription to My Heart

I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.

“Talia.”

I glance over my shoulder. “What?”

He hesitates. It’s barely noticeable, just a fraction of a second, but I see it.

Soren exhales. “Thank you.”

It’s quiet. Measured. And somehow, it sounds like it costs him something to say.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Soren just watches me, his face infuriatingly apathetic.

I shake my head and walk away, but for some reason, I can still feel his eyes on me long after I’m gone.

Chapter 2

Soren

Thehospitalneverslowsdown. Not really. It moves in waves—high tides of emergencies, low tides of paperwork—but it never stops. I prefer it this way. The noise, the movement, the constant demand for my attention. It keeps my mind occupied and my hands busy.

I don’t have time for distractions.

Which is why I don’t give Talia Vance a second thought after our first encounter.

Or at least, I try not to.

She’s just another nurse. A competent one, from what I’ve seen. Aiming to move up from med surg to scrub nurse. Still. She talks too much. Challenges her superiors too easily. And for some reason, I can still hear her voice in my head, dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, so you do know my name.”

I rub my temple, irritated.

I don’t owe her an apology. I was short with her, yes, but I don’t have time for idle chitchat, especially with someone who clearly enjoys pushing buttons.

I glance at the time—12:43 p.m. I have back-to-back consults, a transplant surgery in two hours, and at some point, I need to check in on Marigold.

My in-laws have been circling like vultures, waiting for any excuse to drag her away. Even with my busy schedule, I have to be a present and attentive father. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost custody of my daughter.

The last thing I need is a nurse with too many opinions taking up space in my head.

I push the thought aside and step into the next pre-op patient’s room.

By the time I make it back to the nurses’ station, I’ve already performed two consults, signed off on three post-op reports, and spoken exactly zero unnecessary words. Efficient. Controlled. Perfect.

Then I see her.

Talia Vance.

She’s reviewing a chart, lips pressed together in concentration. A stray strand of golden blonde hair has escaped from her ponytail, brushing against her cheek. She tucks it behind her ear, frowning at the computer screen.

I should keep walking. I should move past her without a second glance.

Instead, I stop.

I don’t know why I say her name. Maybe because I need an update. Maybe because ignoring her feels like giving her too much power.

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