Page 5 of Clinically Awkward

“That’s not—” He stopped, shook his head, and closed his tablet. “You know what? Fine. Meeting adjourned. Try not to kill any patients this week.”

“No promises,” Nathan and I said in unison.

Julien exited the room, his demeanor that of someone who had just endured a particularly grueling ordeal—he appeared as if he’d aged five years in only twenty minutes. Gabriel trailed behind him, most likely heading off to check on his morning appointments. Hayden, ever composed and meticulous, gathered his belongings with his characteristic precision and slipped out without saying a word.

That left only Nathan and me behind. Nathan, still grinning at his phone, seemed thoroughly entertained.

“Winnie sent me the voicemail,” he announced, holding up his phone. “Want to hear it?”

“Absolutely,” I replied without hesitation.

Nathan pressed play, and the room was instantly filled with Fitz’s slurred, off-key voice: “Winnie, Winnie, Winnie. Your eyes are like... like twin pools of... administrative competence. And I’ve been thinking about you. In ways that would violate... several HR policies. Maybe all of them. Want to file some paperwork together? If you know what I mean?”

There was a brief pause, and then, to our mutual horror, Fitz launched into an off-key rendition: “Turn around, bright eyes...”

Nathan stopped the recording, and we exchanged glances, both a little stunned.

“He’s never living this down,” I said, shaking my head.

“Never,” Nathan agreed, his grin widening.

Suddenly, from down the hall, a crash echoed, followed by Winnie’s furious shout: “THAT WAS MY FAVORITE MUG, YOU ABSOLUTE WALNUT.”

Nathan glanced at me. “We should probably go save him,” he suggested, though neither of us made a move to get up.

“Probably,” I agreed, still rooted to my chair.

We remained seated for another thirty seconds, listening to the ongoing chaos that was Fitz’s undoing, before finally getting to our feet.

“After you,” Nathan offered with mock courtesy.

“Age before beauty,” I shot back.

“We’re the same age,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes.

“Then beauty before... whatever you are,” I replied, unable to resist the jab.

Nathan flipped me off, and together we made our way toward the conference room, ready to rescue our hapless colleague from the wrath of the most competent woman in New Haven.

Just another Monday at Clinically Approved.

God, I loved this job.

CHAPTER TWO

Quinton

By the time I finally reached the break room at the end of the day, exhaustion had taken over. I was barely functioning, running on whatever energy I had left and hoping that someone, anyone, had restocked the good coffee. The ER had been absolute chaos—a relentless series of emergencies that included three car accidents, a victim from a kitchen fire, and a man who, for reasons still unclear to me, came in with a fishing lure stuck in his ear. Don’t ask me how it happened. I certainly didn’t ask him.

All I wanted was a hit of caffeine, some peace and quiet, and maybe a few precious moments where nobody was actively bleeding on me.

Of course, the universe had other plans.

Vivian was already sitting at the table, scrolling through her phone with one hand and eating a banana with the other. She was still dressed in her scrubs—the dark blue ones that indicated she’d spent her day working on the clinic floor. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail that looked like it had survived several rough hours. She appeared tired and frustrated, and it was clear she was just moments away from hurling her phone across the room in frustration.

I should have simply turned around and left.

I should have grabbed my water and retreated to literally anywhere else.