The kiss was real, not born out of past anger or misguided impulse. The warmth in my chest is real. Every pleasure neurotransmitter is lighting up my brain like a holiday display.
And still?—
No matter how steady things feel in this moment, some part of my mind knows how quickly the earth can shift.
I’m sittingat the desk in my office, something I rarely do. The surface is buried under stacks of articles and patient notes. I took ten days off to be with Nate, and I wouldn’t trade that time with him for anything… I get it now. What being the person who makes the food, brings the tea, and stands up to grab exactly what you want before you ask, does for Nate.
The whole world feels steadier when you’re reminded every day you’re someone’s choice. Nothing extra, just care and attention. So instead of finishing the stroke studies, what I want to do is readDopamine Nation. Nate’s pick for book club this month. I palm the book where it sits beside my keyboard, rubbing the corner of the pages with my thumb.
My phone rings.
Without looking, I pick it up and slide the green button sideways.
“Hello?” I say.
“Hello, this is Elena Harris, Head of Neurology at Northmoor. I’m hoping to speak to Dr. Hollis. We met briefly at a conference in Seattle.”
“This is she.”
“Well, Robyn. I have an offer for you.”
My system betrays me, kicking into overdrive while she speaks. Heart rate up, breath shallow, the faint tremor of adrenaline threading through my hands. But underneath that noise, a quieter signal fires and overrides everything else: the ground beneath my feet cracking, the sudden collapse that leaves me buried in rubble. It’s happened before. I still remember the taste of debris in my mouth.
CHAPTER 36
The Love
Nate
A month out,my head mostly behaves now. I still get a dull ache if I push screens too long. It’s probably the first day without that warning pulse behind my eyes. Today’s just book club nerves and the weight of a paper bag warm against my wrist as I stand outside Robyn’s door.
Neurology month.Dopamine Nation’s my pick. I’m bringing dinner, and I could almost say we’re dating. We are not, though, there’s no label for what we are doing. There’s also no pressure to define what this is beyond knowing I’m home every time I see her.
We meet a few times a week. Wednesdays are book club and always just us. Sometimes, we meet up for lunch, sometimes, dinner downtown. She still sees her friends, and I’ve joined them for trivia once or twice. I also take weekend mornings to bike with Zac, of all people. And yes, sometimes, Robyn doesn’t have time on the weekends, butmy schedule’s more flexible, and helping Mickey get back in school fills mewith purpose. So I can handle stewing in my own thoughts now. I’m sitting right at the edge of everything I’ve wanted.
All that’s missing is courage.Or a big romantic gesture.Or maybe both.
I’m not in a rush, though. I’m loving this version of us. We’re careful with each other. We’re making sure the ground is level and the soil has the appropriate quality before we lay down anything permanent. Following protocol. Checking vitals. I’mhappy. I feel—completely, quietly, and steadily loved.
When the door opens, IknowI’m about to be kicked off the edge. Robyn’s expression isn’t quite sad or mad, but it’s tense. Her brow isn’t quite furrowed, but it’s not relaxed, and her knuckles tighten on the doorframe until they whiten.
“I have to talk to you,” she says.
That’s never fucking good, is it?My hopes collapse inward, fast and silent. Maybe we were building on quicksand.
“Okay.” I nod because I don’t know what else to do.
She lets me in, and I take in her apartment, where I’ve found myself belonging again since I first came in over two months ago. I rub my hand behind my neck, opening the collar of my shirt. Robyn takes my hand and laces our fingers—that feels significant and apologetic.
“Elena Harris got in touch,” she says.
My shoulders tense—Elena Harris runs that neurology department that made Robyn’s eyes light up.
“They have an opening. Fifty–fifty allocation.” She swallows. “She’s invited me to come over to New Hampshire for a week. She wants to formally interview me and let me decide if it’s a good fit for me.”
There it is. The other shoe, the hand pushing me over the edge while I fall and my arms swing, trying to grab and hold onto everything I thought I was about to get.
“That’s… that’s incredible.”And it is. I am proud thatthere’s an opening and they’d think of Robyn, but my chest tightens anyway.
