Sebastian's arms encircle me completely, pulling me back against his chest as if he could absorb my pain through skin contact alone.
"How am I supposed to be a doctor when I can't even save the people who matter most to me?" I ask, my tears flowing freely now.
Sebastian doesn't answer immediately. His silence stretches long enough that I wonder if he regrets asking about my father, regrets being stuck in a bathtub with a woman rapidly unraveling. But he never stops holding me as I shudder againsthim. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and steady near my ear.
"Medicine isn't about being perfect," he murmurs. "It's about caring enough to try, even when you know you might fail. Even when failure breaks your heart."
A sob catches in my throat. I want to argue, to tell him he's wrong, that good doctors don't fail, that I should have known better, worked harder, been smarter. But his arms tighten even further, and his lips press against my damp hair.
"Your father didn't die because you failed him," he continues. "He died because medicine failed him. Because sometimes, no matter how much we know, how hard we work, how desperately we want to save someone, we can't."
"But I'm a doctor," I whisper, my voice breaking on the word. "That's supposed to mean something."
"It does." He cups my face, thumb brushing away a tear. "It means you have the courage to walk into rooms where people are scared and suffering, and instead of running away, you stay. You try. Even knowing you might lose."
I close my eyes, letting his words wash over me.
"Cheryl knew that," he says after a moment. "She knew the odds. Knew what was happening to her body. That's why she signed the DNR."
"I promised her I'd figure it out." The words taste like acid on my tongue.
"And you tried." Sebastian's voice is firm. "You gave her every ounce of knowledge and determination you had. That's all any doctor can do. All any person can do."
The bathwater has cooled slightly, but I barely notice. My breathing gradually steadies as I absorb his words. They don't take away the pain, don't erase the image of Cheryl's still face or my father's final breath. But they create a small space where forgiveness might someday live.
"How can I go back?" I finally ask. "After the way I left? I threw my badge at Henderson, Sebastian."
A laugh rumbles through his chest, surprising me. "I would have paid good money to see that."
"It's not funny," I protest, but I feel the corner of my mouth twitch upward despite myself. "I completely lost it. In front of everyone. I'm sure Harper's already spread the story to the entire hospital. I'll be a joke. The doctor who couldn't handle a simple DNR."
Sebastian's arms tighten around me, muscles tensing before he relaxes again. "Harper's opinions aren't worth the oxygen he wastes expressing them."
"Still, how can I face them? After what I did?"
"We'll face it," he says without hesitation, "together."
Together. One word. One simple word, yet profound. It's not just about returning to the hospital, it's about whatever this is, whatever we're becoming to each other. About not being alone in the aftermath of destruction.
I need to see his face, to read the truth in his eyes. Water sloshes against the porcelain sides as I reposition to face him. My wet hair clings to my shoulders and back, heavy and cold now that it's exposed to the air. Sebastian's face is more open than I've ever seen it, those dark eyes watching me with an intensity that steals my breath.
"You told me you cared about me," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Showed me you cared. But why?"
Something shifts in his expression—the careful control giving way to vulnerability that makes my heart stutter. His jaw works for a moment, as if he's physically struggling to push words past some internal barrier.
"You make me want to be better, Mia," he finally admits, his hand coming up to brush wet strands from my face. "Youchallenge me and inspire me and drive me absolutely crazy all at the same time."
He pauses, swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. When he continues, his voice is softer, almost hesitant. "Because I think I'm falling for you. And that terrifies me more than anything."
My heart stops, then restarts with a painful flutter. The confession hangs in the steamy air between us, impossible to take back, impossible to ignore. Before I can formulate a response, find words for the emotions crashing through me, he continues.
"I know the timing is terrible," he says, thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. "I know you're grieving and confused and probably not ready to hear this, but I need you to know, to understand why I can't walk away, why I'll fight for you even when you won't fight for yourself."
The raw honesty in his voice leaves me breathless. Sebastian Walker—controlled, precise, guarded Sebastian—is laying himself bare for me, cracking open his chest to show me what's inside. And what's inside is... me.
"Sebastian." Emotion clogging my throat, his name is all I can manage.
"You don't have to say anything," he tells me, dropping his hand from my face. "I'm not asking for reciprocation. Just understanding."
