That—
That does it.
Something inside me snaps tight.
Because he doesn’t get it.
He doesn’t get what I saw.
What Ifeltwhen he collapsed.
When his pulse started dropping.
When I thought—
I push that thought away hard.
“You were on my table,” I say, my voice low now. Controlled—but barely. “You were bleeding internally. Your body was shutting down. So yeah—right now? You’re still my responsibility.”
His eyes lock onto mine.
Unyielding.
“Not for long.”
There it is.
The real problem.
“You’re already thinking about going back out there,” I say.
Not a question.
His silence answers me.
Of course he is.
Of course.
Anger flares again.
Sharp.
Protective.
“You’re not ready,” I repeat.
“I’ll be fine.”
“That’s not a plan—that’s denial.”
His jaw tightens.
“And what’s your plan?” he shoots back. “Keep me here until I forget how to do my job?”
“No,” I snap. “Keep you here until your body stops trying to kill you!”
The words hang between us.
