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Professionally caused measurable damage. Those words hit harder than the rest. I knew about the suspension the day it happened. The out-of-nowhere arrest, then her epic resignation. The way years of work could be reduced to a footnote at Cascadia Legal. I’ve been treating this like I broke our relationship, a bump in our road. But more than that, I am seeing the damage I caused to her career.

She pauses, letting her words sink in before she carries on with her decimation of me.

“But you took someone who was already running on empty and gave her a reason to trust less. To not ask for help. To believe that the people who see her clearly are the people most likely to use what they see.” Her voice does not waver as she continues. “She broke her ankle alone because of a pattern that you reinforced. I need you to understand that before you spend one more second in her orbit.”

I open my mouth to speak, but Mack holds up one hand, shaking slightly, righteous anger fueling her.

“So when I ask you not to use this situation to get closer to her, I am not being precious about her feelings. I am telling you that her body cannot afford it right now. Do you understand the difference?”

The hallway hums around us with distant staff voices and the sound of a cart rolling past. But Mack’s attentive gaze doesn’t shift.

I clench and unclench my fists, trying to release the anger at myself, not wanting to direct it at her. “Yes,” I get out through gritted teeth, “I am beginning to.”

“Good. Because Phoenix doesn’t need another apology. She needs someone who finally understands what he took from her.”

Something in my face must give her pause. “Look,” she continues, folding her arms loosely. “She’s going to downplay this. Say she’s fine, but she’s not. Not that she isn’t tough. She is the toughest person I know. But Phoenix is used to being … capable. This is going to impact her, not just physically.”

I don’t respond by saying that I have been trying to take care of Phoenix since the first day I met her, in any way I can. It hits me that maybe Phoenix didn’t even know because I never told her how much I cared.

And there it is, the real point of the conversation. Mack studies me, as if she is trying to discern my motive and decide how much to say.

“You’re the best option she has right now,” she begrudgingly admits. “Logistically, because of your proximity.” A slight pause. “Whatever else is going on …”

I hold her gaze after she trails off. “What about it?”

“Don’t use it,” she says with narrowed eyes. “Not to get closer to her. Not to fix something she hasn’t agreed to fix. Not to push whatever your agenda is with her.”

I almost smile, loving the sight of someone caring for Phoenix in action. “The only thing I want,” I add, quieter now, “is her.”

It’s the truth, and it settles between us harder than I expect. Mack’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Then don’t make this about you,” she says. “Make it about what she needs, even if that stalls your agenda, or whatever you’re thinking. Your job right now is not to fix it. Your job is to make sure she heals, ask for nothing, and accept that her trust is not something you are owed. It is something you may spend a very long time earning back. If she decides to let you try.”

“I won’t. My priority is making sure she gets better, in every way. I will keep my wants and ego out of it,” I vow.

She stares at me, then nods in agreement. “Bring her home,” Mack says, stepping toward the delivery wing. “Keep her comfortable. And if she tells you she’s fine …”

“She’s not,” I finish.

Looking around the stark white hospital hallway, I debate how to bring up my next concern. I decide that being forward with her medical professional friend is the best bet.

“She’s been getting sick a lot,” I say on an exhale, hating the truth of my words but knowing Phoenix needs help.

That gets her attention. “What have you noticed?”

I relay the information as if it has been sitting at the tip of my tongue. “Headaches. Feeling run down, but doesn’t stop anyway.” I shrug slightly. “I brought her soup the other night when she clearly had a cold, and she acted like it was unnecessary.”

“She would.” Mack’s jaw tightens a fraction. “Have you ever looked into burnout?”

My eyebrows raise in confusion before she continues. “Especially in high-performing women. It doesn’t always look like exhaustion. Sometimes it looks like … pushing through everything anyway.”

Silence stretches between us for a second as I ponder her words.

“Look it up,” she adds.

I feel the shift in her demeanor toward me. Not a thawing, more of a begrudging awareness, and I’ll take it.

“Get her home,” Mack demands as she heads off toward her wing. “And leave your wants out of it.”