We pull out of our hug, and they head out.I walk back into the office and sit back in the chair, a little dazed.Dr.Harrison doesn’t look up, but I can tell he knows I wasn’t fully present for any of that.
And honestly, I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he noticed, or the fact that I let something so personal affect my focus.Either way, I need to pull it together.
But that image of him, down on one knee for Dusty, keeps replaying behind my eyes.As well as him giving Dusty his full attention and seeing the trust between them.
And it shouldn’t mean anything.
But it does.
I stand shoulder to shoulder with Harrison, reviewing the MRI from Shaina in Room 12, the one who had another seizure overnight.This one was worse.Twenty seconds of violent, full-body tremors, followed by vomiting and confusion.
“We’ve ruled out infection, tumors, epilepsy markers…” I mutter, more to myself than to Harrison.
Harrison clicks to the next slide, lips pressed thin.“See this?”he asks, tapping the screen.“Enlarged ventricles.Slight, but present.”
I fold my arms, shifting my weight as I study the image.“Or it’s within variation for an eight-year-old.You’re reaching.”
His head snaps toward me.“Excuse me?”
I don’t flinch.“We’ve tested for everything except heavy metals.What if it’s environmental?”I glance at the file on the counter.“The family lives in a converted warehouse.Could be lead.Arsenic.Even old paint.Anything.”
“That’s a stretch,” he says dismissively, brushing it off without any consideration.
“It’s a viable option,” I push back.“And that's worth something if we’re running out of answers.”
He leans in slightly.“Options don’t help a child in crisis.We need facts.Something we can act on.”
I’m betting on his ego getting in the way because we already have tension.Why else would he push back against testing for this?Unless… he doesn’t want to appear wrong.
I meet his gaze, frustration surging now, not just because I’m challenging him, but because I know I’m right to.“Then let’s get them.We do the bloodwork.Rule it out.If I’m wrong, fine.But if I’m right…”
The silence stretches.His eyes search mine like he’s seeing me differently.Not just a resident with theories but someone he might have to take seriously.
Finally, he exhales and reaches for the chart.“I’ll authorize the panel,” he mutters, scrawling his name on the order slip.
My heart races as relief sparks in my chest.I force my face to stay calm, focused.I don’t let myself smile.
Not until I turn away.
Chapter 11
Regan
It’saftersevenwhenI leave the ward, still buzzing with caffeine and stubborn pride.My badge sticks to the sweat on my neck.As I’m rounding the corner toward the locker room, I pause.
Down the hallway, the break room door is open.
Inside, Dr.Harrison sits alone at the table, elbows on his knees, head bowed.
No jacket.Just his shirt, sleeves pushed up, rubbing his temples.Something about the way he looks feels off.He looks tired.Not just end-of-shift tired.Dog tired.Like he’s holding too much in.
He doesn’t see me, and I should walk away.
I should.
But I want to make sure he’s okay, so instead, I knock gently and push the door open wider.
“You okay?”I ask softly, taking a seat opposite him.
