My eyebrows lift.“Nancy?As in, thrift store Nancy?”
He shrugs, like he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it.“Yeah.”
I grin.“Wow.”
“It’s nothing serious,” he says quickly, like I might tease him.“Just coffee.She reached out.”
“That’s good,” I say, glad she reached out because she never called or texted me to have dinner.Between work, hanging out with Brant, and now leaving, I just didn’t get a chance to follow up.“You deserve someone.She’s lovely.”
He doesn’t answer right away, but his expression softens.“It’s strange, isn’t it?Everything shifting.”
“Yeah,” I nod.I’m leaving, and somehow everything… Scarlet, Dad, Brant, this entire life I accidentally built feels more complicated than ever.“But maybe strange isn’t always bad.”
“Maybe not.”
He checks his watch.“You’d better get moving.Before I change my mind and try to convince you to stay.”
“I’ll visit,” I promise again, backing toward the door.“You’ll get sick of how often I come back.”
He lifts his mug.“I won’t.”
By the time I get to the hospital, the pressure in my chest has settled into something deeper.
I go straight to Brant’s office.To tell him I’m leaving today, but it’s empty.The lights are off.The door is shut.His desk is cleared.No family photo, no stethoscope, no pen.No sign he was ever there.Did he already move to the chief’s office?Or is he avoiding me?
I stand in the doorway for a moment longer than I need to, half-hoping he’ll materialize, make some dry comment about me being early.Maybe even tell me he’s proud.
But all I get is silence.
“Hey,” a familiar voice calls behind me.
I turn and find Mason leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his scrubs, his usual easy grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.“You ready to go today?”
“As I’ll ever be.”I pull myself away from the door and toward the day ahead.
He falls into step beside me.“You planning to slack off on your last day?”
“I was hoping to.”
“Not happening.But don’t worry… we’ll go easy on you.”
I narrow my eyes at him.“Define easy.”
“Well, for starters, don’t take too long on the ward.Your morning tea starts soon.”
I stop mid-step.“Morning tea?”
“Yeah.Your dad organized it.”
“My dad?”The words barely register.I blink at him, not sure I heard right.
Mason shrugs like it’s no big deal, but something catches in my chest.I didn’t think he’d do anything.It shouldn’t matter as much as it does.It really does.
We head down to Pediatrics first.A boy named Jalen, one of the regulars with Type 1 diabetes, is finally being discharged.He’s bright-eyed, sitting cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by comic books.
“Hey, champ,” Mason says, crouching beside him.“You kicking us out already?”
“Mom says I can sleep in my own bed tonight,” Jalen says proudly, flashing a smile with one front tooth missing.
