Page 4 of Lennox

Laughing, Nora heads for the door, offering us a warm, reassuring smile as she exits.

After a few moments of silence following Nora's departure, my mother's voice breaks the stillness, her tone cheekily light again. "So, I overheard some of the nurses chatting earlier. Seems like there's quite a buzz about a grumpy heartthrob in Room 215. Know anything about that?"

Caught off guard, I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. "Oh, Lennox. Yeah, he's my new PT patient. Just started his sessions after his surgery." I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Her eyebrows shoot up, amusement evident. "And how's that going? From the chatter, he doesn't seem to be the most cheerful fellow."

I huff a laugh. "That's putting it mildly. But beneath all that gruffness, there's... I don’t know... something. He's intriguing."

She regards me with a sly, knowing smile. "Is that so? Sounds like someone's got your attention."

Rolling my eyes, I chuckle, "He's just a patient, Mom. And besides, I don't mix business with pleasure."

She smirks, pointing her finger at me playfully. "Mark my words, there's more to that story. I have a knack for these things."

I snort, shaking my head in mock exasperation as I stand and gather our trash. "Alright, oracle. We'll see about that."

With the empty trays in hand, I make my way to the small trash bin in the corner, my mother's playful laughter lingering in the air. "I love you, Mom," I murmur, leaning down to gently kiss her forehead. "I'd better get back to work."

"Love you too, Charlie," she responds, her voice thick with emotion, though she tries to hide it. "Don't work too hard."

Exiting her room, the weight of our conversation presses down on me, and I need a moment to breathe. I head to the restroom attached to the nurse's station. The quiet inside starkly contrasts the bustling activity just outside the door.

My hands tremble slightly as I splash water on my face. Watching the droplets mix with a tear, I meet my own gaze in the mirror. The bubbly daughter, the adept therapist, the unwavering pillar—they all stare back. But for a brief moment, another face peers through—the scared, overwhelmed daughter afraid of a future without her anchor.

Taking a deep breath, I wipe away a stray tear, my resolve reasserting itself. Now's not the time to break, not when so much is riding on my shoulders. Squaring them with determination, I take one last look in the mirror, drawing strength from the woman looking back at me.

"You've got this, Charlie," I whisper to my reflection. "One step at a time."

And with that, I open the door and step back into the rhythm of the hospital, ready to face whatever challenges come next.

Or at least, I think I am until I hear Lennox’s gruff, unmistakable voice from a few doors down. "Hey, can someone get me more of that green Jell-O? The red one's an abomination."

A couple of nurses nearby stifle their giggles, and I can't help but smirk, picturing the serious, stoic Lennox being so particular about his Jell-O colors. As I tread lightly down the corridor, trying to slip past unnoticed, the universe has other plans. Lennox's eyes, sharp as ever, catch mine.

For a second, I think he’ll give me a hard time or send me on a Jell-O hunt I’m not really in the mood for. But then, he pauses, studying my face with those jade-green eyes. His usually guarded expression briefly shifts, showing a flicker of concern or understanding. It's so quick I might have imagined it.

"Charlene," he begins, his usual sarcastic edge replaced by a softer tone. “See you tomorrow."

The moment feels both fleeting and eternal. Without another word, he diverts his attention back to the current Jell-O debate with a nurse, effectively giving me an escape.

Grateful for his unspoken understanding, I offer a weak smile and continue my journey down the hall, the weight on my chest slightly lifted.

Chapter 3

Lennox

Lennox

Walking alongside Charlene the next day, the corridor seems longer than it should be. Each step is a reminder of the injury, and a tug of pain shoots up my leg. The hospital's stark white walls and clinical ambiance threaten to pull me back into a spiral of negativity.

“If you're going to torture me, couldn't you at least pick a more scenic route?” I complain.

Charlene, or Charlie as everyone calls her, laughs, the sound echoing in the busy hallway. “Wish I could. But scenic routes are out of our budget. You’re stuck with these halls for now.”

Pausing to catch my breath, I glance out a window. “Great view. A brick wall to match the maze of corridors.”

Her eyes follow mine, and a look of longing fills them. “You know, I’ve pitched this idea to the hospital board of turning the unused rooftop space into a therapeutic garden. Imagine a place up there with walking trails, some greenery... A spot where patients can get fresh air.”

---