Page 74 of Scout

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I’m in the hospital lounge, dreading the overnight shift I picked up because we’re short-staffed and I don’t know how to sit still. My head’s pounding. The protein bar in my hand is still wrapped. My coffee’s gone cold.

I pull out my phone and stare at the screen for a while. Then I swipe and tap the number I haven’t told anyone I still call.

Dr. Renata Davis. Hospital-appointed trauma therapist. We were all assigned to her after the Matthisen fire.

Most of us stopped after we got cleared to return to work. I didn’t.

“Xavier?” her voice is calm, the kind of calm you only get from someone who’s seen the worst and isn’t afraid of it. “You don’t have a session scheduled today.”

“I know. I just—” I rub a hand over my face, elbow braced on my knee. “Can I talk for a minute? Just… unload. I won’t take long.”

“I’ve got ten,” she says gently. “Go ahead.”

I stare at the wall. “There was this car accident a few weeks ago. MVA, guardrail to tree. The mother died in the ER on my watch. The daughter made it. I treated her. Stitched her arm. Stapled her head.”

“And?”

“Her brother came in. Scout.”

There’s a pause on her end. She knows that name. I mentioned him—once, maybe twice—but never this seriously.

“I hadn’t seen him since…” I trail off. “Since we hurt him.”

More silence. The kind she uses as an invitation.

“He looked destroyed, but steady. He’d built this wall around himself for her sake, and there was no part of him left for anything else. And I just stood there. In scrubs. Blood on my gloves. Watching him comfort his sister while the rest of the world disappeared.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

“Hard doesn’t even touch it.” My voice lowers. “He didn’t flinch when I stapled her scalp. Just held her hand and kept whispering that she was okay.”

Dr. Davis exhales gently. “People in shock can seem calm.”

“It wasn’t shock,” I whisper. “It was love. The real kind. Fierce and messy and permanent. He looked at her as if she was his entire world.”

“And you?”

“I felt like a stranger. Out of place. But I wanted to be there. Still do.”

Another pause, then: “What have you done since?”

“I sent food. Groceries. Just… things I thought might help.”

“Did you reach out?”

I breathe out, eyes locked on the floor tiles, hoping for answers that aren’t there.

“Yes. I mean… yeah. Before the accident, Kendrix and I went to his place. Scout wouldn’t see us.” I drag a hand through my hair.

“I even sat outside his building one morning before work. Just hoping to see him.” I rub my forehead. “I sound unhinged.”

“You sound heartbroken.”

“I’ve called. Texted. He replied once. After that? Nothing. No read receipts. It’s like I vanished.”

Her voice stays steady. “Do you want him to respond?”

“Do I have the right to want him to do anything?”