Her laugh is quiet, cracked around the edges. “I’m pretty sure I fell asleep mid-fuck a couple of times too.”
I huff out a laugh, half disbelieving. “Oh, I noticed. You had me questioning my skills there for a while.”
She smirks, shaking her head. The tension softens enough that I can see who we are together. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin warms beneath my fingers, and in that moment, I believe our second chance lives in that small touch.
“I was proud of you then,” I say. “But I’m even prouder now. You cut no corners, you’ve overcome everything that tried to pull you under. I know you’re going to land somewhere that makes you shine—even brighter than you already do.”
The air stills. The lake murmurs against stone, the leaves from the crabapple tree above us sigh, sharing Robyn’s exhaustion.
She looks over, eyes unreadable. “Without you now,” she murmurs. “It’s not fair.”
The air whooshes from my lungs. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Robyn… I know I?—”
“No.”
And I see it in her eyes—clarity, not anger. This is the first real conversation we’ve had about what’s happened, about what’s going to happen. She’s not yelling, and I’m not deflecting. We’re finally standing inside the truth.
“It doesn’t erase anything.” Her exhale trembles, but her hands are steady when she slides mine off her shoulders. “Tessa may have kissed you, but you kissed her back. You blurred boundaries that should’ve been clear. At least to you.”
“They are cle?—”
She shakes her head. “If they were, we wouldn’t be here,Nate. I’m not worried about Tessa or whoever. Other people don’t owe our relationship respect.Youdo. And you lost sight of that. It’s written all over your face, and I can’t fix it for you.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The words dissolve somewhere around my heart.
“Nate,” she says, quieter now, “I appreciate you coming here so we could end this like adults. So I’m just going to say two more things, because I love you and I want you to eventually be in a place where you can love back.”
The breeze stirs again. A bird pecks at the fruit on the tree, and a crabapple falls, splitting open on the pavement, its scent sharp and sour.
“I was honest with you about Julian. You even knew we almost hooked up. You said you were okay with it. Had you not been, we wouldn’t have started dating. But I don’t think you’ve ever given me, or yourself, that same kind of honesty when it comes to Tessa.”
Her gaze flicks to the tree, then back to me. “Your mom said some things over brunch. More her read of things than facts. Maybe you really do love me, and maybe what you feel for her is just attachment. Something you built out of… I don’t know, I’m no shrink. But either way, I can’t stand here while you try to figure it out.”
I want to reach for her, but I don’t. My hands curl uselessly in my lap. The wind lifts her hair across her cheek, and she doesn’t brush it away.
“I have four months left in this program,” she says, her voice steady now. “In two, I start applying for attending positions. I can’t afford lukewarm recommendations. And that’s what I’ll get if I’m distracted. I need to crush every diagnostic opportunity, Nate.”
I swallow hard, my throat raw. “You need four months, I’ll give you four months.”
She stands, brushing off her coat. “Don’t give them to me, I won’t be waiting. Use them on yourself.”
Then she walks away, her footsteps fading along the gravel path. The crabapple tree sways overhead, and another fruit gets knocked to the ground with a soft, hollow thud.
I stay there, breathing in the scent of rot and sweetness. Maybe she doesn’t want me to give her these four months. She wants me to be better. Well, I can do both.
CHAPTER 14
The Arrhythmia
Robyn
Chicago’s weatherfinally settled into spring. Once the crabapple blossoms fully sprouted, their colorful petals and new pale-green leaves drifting loose across the sidewalk, there are no surprise puffer-coat days. It’s been six weeks since I left Nate on the hospital garden benches. I refused to look back, and yes, every step away from him bruised my heart even more. Sometimes, you have to hurt yourself so someone else won’t.
My shift today’s wrapping up early enough for happy hour. I got held up by an ER consult that came through just as I was signing out, so everyone’s already there or on their way. The lounge is empty except for the hum of the vending machine and the faint smell of antiseptic that never really goes away.
And Julian. He’s assigned himself to Robyn-sitting duty, as if I may break down and cry any minute. I don’t want to tell him he doesn’t have to worry about that, but there’s this insidiousfear burrowing inside me that if I missed a crack this big in the foundation of our relationship, I’m not safe anywhere or with anyone.
He peels off his scrub top and tosses it into his locker. Tattoos climb over his ribs and shoulder—triangles and curved lines in red and black ink. I take off my top and stand in a sports bra. Julian doesn’t even look my way. We’re too tired for modesty, too familiar for tension.
