Page 96 of Vital Signs
Heat crept up my neck. “I closed a laceration,” I said. “That’s quite literally my job.”
“You did more than that,” she breathed, something of a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. “You didn’t shrink.”
The words hit harder than Frank’s voice ever had. I set the box down carefully, buying myself a second. “I’ve been on nights a while now,” I said. “I’ve picked up a few things from you crazy nighters.”
She smiled — proud in that quiet, friendly way. “You have. You used to look like you were bracing for impact every time someone raised their voice at you.” A slight pause. “Today you didn’t even blink.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly. “I knew I was right,” I said. Liza had worked with Frank; she knew what he was like. But Iknewshe wasn’t talking about that particular doctor.
“Yeah,” she said. “You did.” Silence settled between us — not awkward, just full. Then she added, almost casually, “And he knew you were right too.”
I stilled.
“Desmond,” she clarified gently, as if she hadn’t just dropped a live wire into my lap. “The way he was watching you? That wasn’t just ‘patient trusts doctor.’”
My pulse stumbled. “He’s… invested in good medicine,” I said carefully.
Liza’s mouth twitched as if she were fighting a smile. “Sure.”
I busied my hands again, straightening labels that didn’t need straightening. “We work well together,” I said, aiming for neutral and hearing the defensiveness, anyway.
“You do,” she agreed. “Extremely well.”
Another beat passed — soft but weighted. “People notice good teamwork,” she added. “Especially when it looks… personal.”
My stomach dropped. “It’s not—” I started, then stopped myself before I sounded guilty of something I wasn’t ready to name out loud. “We’re professionals.”
“I know,” she said quickly, holding up a hand. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying… Iwasat the gala. And the department has eyes. And ears. And a very active imagination when two people start orbiting each other a little closer than usual.”
The words landed with quiet inevitability — not threatening or dramatic. I leaned back against the shelf, exhaustion finally catching up with me. At least this was coming from my friend, and not someone with an ulterior motive. “We’ve been through a lot,” I said softly.
“I know you have. Both of you,” she replied. “And you’ve grown. A lot. You’re not the same resident who walked in here two years ago, flinching every time Frank sighed.”
A shaky breath slipped out of me. “I don’t feel different most days.”
“You look different,” she said. “You stand as if you belong here now. Your confidence has skyrocketed on the night shift. I’m proud of you.”
My eyes burned unexpectedly. I blinked hard and forced a small smile. “That’s… good, right?”
“It’s great,” she said. Then, more gently: “Just be careful with your heart and your paperwork. Both matter around here.”
A trauma alert blared overhead — saving me from having to respond to that part.
She pushed off from the doorway. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s hand over these patients and get the hell out of here. I’ve got to be at the country club by eleven.”
I followed her back into the noise, pulse still a little too fast — not from Frank, not from the stitches, but from the quiet realization settling deep in my chest:
I wasn’t invisible anymore.
And neither was the way Desmond looked at me.
Chapter 56
Desmond
Iwas halfway through updating my own chart when Frank swaggered in without knocking. Of course he did.
He leaned against the counter as if he owned the place, arms crossed, eyes flicking over my dressing before settling on me with that smug, satisfied little smile that always made my blood boil. “Quite a scene earlier,” he said.
