KORIE
Afew days have passed since Holden took me to dinner. I refuse to call it a date, because that word is just a little too perfect for what it was supposed to be. I mean, what even was that?
I expected to see him stumble, make some obvious mistakes, forget to open a door for me. But no. Holden was… well, he was what he always is, only better.
I wasn’t prepared to enjoy it as much as I did. Ineverenjoy dating. Tell me again why I stopped?
Since that night, I’ve only received a couple of random one-line messages from Holden, but that’s not unusual. Work often consumes our time. We can go days without talking. But every empty inbox is strangely uncomfortable now. I miss him.
When I finish my shift at the end of the week, my brain feels like it has been sanded down to nothing. I’m exhausted, and Ineed rest. I lean back against the counter in the imaging room for a second, flexing my fingers like that’ll shake the day out of them.
“Hey, Korie?”
I glance up.
The leading nurse practitioner for this floor, Trey, stands in the doorway holding a chart in one hand. He’s still in his dark blue scrubs, and his hair is doing that thing where it looks accidentally styled even though I know he didn’t try. The guy is wickedly handsome. If he wasn’t so shy, he’d probably have a partner.
“I’ve got a walk-in for you,” he says, his voice timid. “Older man, in his sixties. Says his knees are bugging him.”
“What’s your best guess?”
“Arthritis.”
“Got it.”
We step into the hallway together, the low buzz of activity wrapping around us—distant voices, echoing footsteps, indistinguishable beeping. It’s busy as usual, but not overwhelming. Just enough movement to keep things flowing and keep time passing. Thirty more minutes, and I’ll be out of here.
When we reach the room, Trey pauses, lowering his voice to a soft whisper. “He’s grieving, by the way. His wife passed a few months ago.”
My heart sinks. I always appreciate the insight before meeting my patients. “Thanks.”
As he disappears down the hall, I glance at the chart for the patient’s name and push the door open. The man sits on the exam table, his rounded belly pulling his shirt tight. His forlorn expression stabs me right in the chest.
“Hey, Richard,” I say, keeping my voice easy. “I’m Korie.”
The man’s attention skates over my polished face in a familiar, curious way. I brace for a quiet rejection—a note of confusion or outward sign of disapproval—but to my surprise, it doesn’t come. He just watches me as I prep the room.
“My supervisor tells me your knees are bothering you.” I give him a smile. “Let’s see if we can find out why.”
I move through the process slowly, explaining each step. Richard’s movements are stiff and overly cautious. “Are you nervous?” I ask gently. “It’s okay if you are. I promise everything will be fine.”
“I just hate coming to these places,” he says finally, spinning the ring on his left hand. “They haven’t felt the same since my SaraAnn died. She always made them easy, you know.”
Easy.
Last weekend had been easy.
I mentally kick my useless brain and shove the thought aside. Of course it was easy when the stakes weren’t very high. It was fake! All of it.
So why am I still thinking about it?
I help Richard lie on the table. “How long were you married?”
“Forty-seven years.”
“Wow, I’m so sorry.”
I coax him into telling me about their last trip together. The vivid language he uses paints breathtaking pictures of faraway vistas and romantic walks through Italian vineyards. I pause to absorb it.
