Page 144 of Fractured Devotion
I turn before they spot me. I take the long path through Recovery to loop around toward the commons. I need air. Or a distraction. Or both.
But instead, I get Mara.
She’s at the espresso machine, punching buttons like they owe her money. She looks up, startled, when I approach.
“Dr. Rennick,” she says a little too formally. Then, more calmly, she asks, “You okay?”
“Fine. Just caffeine-starved.” I gesture at the second machine. “Mind if I steal a slot?”
She smiles faintly and steps aside. “Be my guest.”
I load a capsule and try not to let the silence grow too awkward. But Mara, for once, fills it herself.
“You’ve seen them too, right?” she asks, her voice soft. “Dr. Varon and Mr. Lorran?”
I glance at her sideways. “What about them?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. They’ve been… closer lately. People notice. I notice. And you… well, you don’t look thrilled.”
“I’m not paid to be thrilled,” I mutter.
Mara snorts. “You’re jealous.”
“I’m concerned,” I correct too fast. She lifts a brow, unconvinced.
“Look, I’ve worked with Dr. Varon longer than most. I’ve seen her cold, and I’ve seen her pissed, but never… tangled.”
That word lands.Tangled.
“I think he’s dangerous,” I say.
Mara nods. “So does half the clinic. But she doesn’t.”
I say nothing, because there’s nothing useful to say.
When my drink is ready, I take it and step away with a nod. Mara watches me go like she knows more than she’s letting on.
I hope she’s wrong, but the ache in my chest says otherwise.
Rounds keep me distracted for a while. Post-op assessments in Recovery, and a scheduled consult with Reyes over a trauma regression patient who keeps relapsing mid-loop. I throw myself into it—measurements, neural response calibrations, and too many notes. Anything to keep from thinking about her.
But the stillness always returns, between steps and charts. Her face comes back. So do the line of her spine and the way she looks at Kade like he’s a puzzle only she can solve.
By 3:15 p.m., I’m reviewing MRI spike data alone in the diagnostics wing. The hum of the equipment is oddly soothing. It sounds like something alive, something that breathes in rhythms too subtle for regular ears.
Then Mara passes by again with a clipboard in hand, moving fast. She catches my eye through the glass and raises an eyebrow. I give her a nod, professional and reserved.
But even then, her smirk lingers.
Everyone sees it. Whatever’s happening between Celeste and Kade, it’s not subtle. And it’s not over.
Not yet.
After my last consult, I head back toward Records to drop off intake revisions, but I double back halfway through the hall. Something feels off. The admin terminal outside central monitoring is left on, the screen dimmed and unattended.
I glance around. It’s empty, and there’s no tech in sight.
Curious, I step closer and tap the touchpad. The display flares to life, showing diagnostics logs and timestamped access queries.
