Page 11 of What Should Have Been Ours

Westly scoffs, shaking his head. “Please. That love sickness is a disease I refuse to catch.” He side-eyes me, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You swore you never wanted to catch it again, either, Dr. McDreamy Jr. Sure looks like you’ve got a bad case now. Better go get that checked out.” He pauses for a moment. “Also, get whatever is going on with you checked out. Don’t try to play it off. You look like you’re about to pass out, and if you dramatically collapse in front of Dr. Covington, just know I’m stepping over your body and keeping it moving.”

I flip him off, pushing the moment aside. It’s nothing. Just been a long morning.

And I have much bigger things to think about than a second of dizziness.

I can’t believe Gabrielle Voss is back in my orbit again.

* * *

If I could have my pick of any other attending Doctor besides Dr. Covington right now, I would gladly jump ship. Too bad he’s an amazing pediatric oncologist despite his lack of a decent personality and not an ounce of humor in his body.

The hospital lights are so bright today, the sound of the machines beeping and the carts rolling down the hallway are all turning into a dull ache around my temples as we keep moving from one patient’s room to the next.

I need to be focused. But I can’t help my mind from slipping back to Gabrielle.

Thinking about the way she hesitated is stuck on repeat in my mind.

What am I going to have to do to win her over again? Even if it’s just as friends. Which, let’s be honest, has never been the only thing Gabrielle was to me.

I would still take it. I would take anything with her.

I can’t imagine the fate of us running into each other on my first day back here and then never being around her again.

That would be a pretty cruel joke from the universe.

I shake the thoughts off as we step back into the hallway after finishing up with a patient, falling into place beside Wes as Dr. Covington reads over the charts out loud. The second set of rounds for the day has just started, and he’s already looking irritated, which is not a good sign.

“Dr. Reed,” Covington says, looking to Wes. “Your patient, Room 14, is a ten-year-old male who underwent a recent stem cell transplant. What’s the biggest post-op concern in his case?”

Wes responds, without missing a beat, “Graft-versus-host disease. We’re monitoring for skin rashes, liver dysfunction, and gastrointestinal symptoms. His labs this morning showed mild elevation in liver enzymes, but nothing that’s alarming yet.”

Covington gives him a tight nod before turning to me now.

“Dr. Hayes. Room 12. We have a twelve-year-old female, ALL relapse. She started her new chemo treatment yesterday. What is the primary concern in the first forty-eight hours of induction therapy?”

I know this. I’ve answered this question a hundred times before. I also know very well everything there is to know about ALL, since that’s what Gabrielle was diagnosed with when we were kids.

But when I go to open my mouth, a wave of light-headedness crashes over me. It’s quick but intense.

The room tilts for a split second.

I blink hard, gripping my clipboard tighter, trying to right myself.

What the hell is going on today?

It’s fast, barely noticeable, but enough to make me feel like I just stepped off a moving sidewalk without any warning.

I force my breath to be steady and try to answer, keeping my voice as even as possible, brushing off whatever that was.

“Um, Tumor lysis syndrome? Rapid cell breakdown can lead to electrolyte imbalances, renal failure, and cardiac complications. We need to monitor potassium, uric acid, and…calcium levels closely.”

Covington watches me for a second, not saying anything. Just keeps a blank expression, and then he gives me a small nod. “Correct.”

I release a slow breath, keeping my face neutral.

But when I glance to my right, Wes is already looking at me, and not his usual amused, smug expression. This one is different, more…concerned.

I avoid his stare, rolling my shoulders as we move on.