The woman’s shoulders caved in. She looked past Harper, focused somewhere over her shoulder.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “What do I even do right now?”
“You can ask questions. You can get updates from the nurse every few hours. Make sure we have the right contact information for you.” Harper waited a beat. “And you can take a break. Go grab coffee. Step outside, get some air. You’ve been here since yesterday afternoon.”
“I don’t want to leave in case something happens.”
“His nurse and doctor agree he’s serious but stable. If anything changes, we’ll call you. I promise.”
The woman nodded, slow. Not really convinced, but not frantic either.
Harper stood, then put an arm around the woman’s shoulder. “Let’s check in with the nursing team and make sure they know you’re waiting for updates. If you need me, you can reach me through the main desk.”
“Okay.” The woman wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”
Harper walked her right past me. I watched them go, then turned back for the surgical wing.
An hour later, I spotted Harper talking to an attending I recognized, just outside the OR by the nurses’ station. He was in the middle of explaining something, hands flying as he talked, but Harper only listened, arms crossed and face unreadable.
Whatever she said next, it made him falter mid-sentence, head dropping, and then he nodded, slow, like he was swallowing a pill and didn’t like the taste.
Harper’s reply was clipped, and then she stepped around him. I caught up with him at the elevator, tapped his elbow.
“Stephens. You good?
He shot me a look, face flushed and twisted into a scowl so deep it looked like Harper had pressed it in by hand. “I’m fuckin’ sick of admin always down here, just waiting to make us look bad.”
I chuckled. “What she call you out on?”
He shook his head. “I told the patient I’d have a test result for them tomorrow. I mean, yeah, tests can take longer, but who cares if it keeps them off my back?”
I frowned, the answer obvious. “Families treat your word like gospel. And if Harper checking you annoys you? Man, wait until Webb gets in your ass when it goes up the chain.”
He arched a brow, a sneer in his voice. “Yeah? Like that death a few weeks ago?”
“You heard about that?”
He scoffed, pushing the elevator button. “What, are you new? Nothing’s a secret around here, Vaughn.” He watched the numbers light up. “Sutton’s not wrong, I guess. It’s just not that big a deal.”
The elevator dinged and he stepped in.
“It’s not that big a deal,” I echoed, “until it is.”
The doors slid shut. I had a department meeting in fifteen minutes. I had notes to write and patients to check in on. Any of those tasks would have been a better use of headspace.
Instead, I was thinking about Harper Sutton. Wondering if she was always that direct with staff, or if there was something about our conversation—and my situation—that she’d decided would be different.
* * *
Later that evening, Jasmine Keller, an ICU nurse, walked into the break room where I’d been catching up on my internet surfing.
She appeared to be surprised to see me; a smile spread across her lips. She poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, her smile settling into a smug grin.
“Nurse Keller,” I said, from my seat at a round table .
“Dr. Vaughn. What’s uh…what’s up?”
“You tell me. You look like you’re busting at the seams with…something.”
