Dr. Fisher stops beside me, close enough that I can see the edge of his sleeve in my peripheral vision. He leans slightly toward the screen, eyes scanning what I’ve written.
Neither of us speaks for a few seconds.
I focus on keeping my breathing even, on not overthinking on the fact that he didn’t pull up a chair or step back the way he usually does. He’s standing close. Too close to be accidental. Not close enough to be anything else.
“You caught this early,” he says.
I glance up despite myself. “Caught what?”
He points to the screen. “The nausea pattern. The way you noted the timing and severity changes.” His hand hovers near the monitor, not touching it. “You adjusted fluids before it escalated.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “Yeah. He mentioned it felt different this morning. More … persistent.”
He nods once, eyes still on the chart. “Most people would’ve waited until it was obvious.”
The words settle heavier than they should.
“I’ve learned not to,” I say. “They don’t always say everything right away.”
His gaze shifts then. Not to my face, but to my hands resting on the desk. When he finally looks up, his expression is unreadable.
“That kind of attention makes a difference,” he says. “It’s good nursing.”
Warmth blooms low in my chest before I can spot it.
“Thank you,” I reply, quieter than I meant to.
He straightens slightly, the space between us returning in a way that feels abrupt. Controlled.
“I’ll update the plan,” he adds, already stepping back. “Let me know if anything changes.”
“I will.”
For a moment, it feels like he might say something else. Hismouth opens, then closes again. Whatever thought crossed his mind stays there.
He walks away without another word.
I stare at the screen, blinking once, then twice.
It takes me a second to realize my hands are shaking.
Not because of the compliment.
Because of the way he said it, like he noticed. Like he cared. Like last night didn’t vanish with daylight.
I take a slow breath and force myself back into the chart.
But the words blur together, and I have to start the line over.
Chapter Eight
Colton
Today has been a little more hectic than normal. Samantha, my resident, has been taking the lead on cases, which always slows the work down.
It has to happen. This is how she learns. Still, it does make the day drag on at times as I stand back and let her work through it instead of stepping in and moving things along.
We walk out of room 430 together.
