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After she was discharged, she picked a place near St. Agnes. Even healthy, she was at the hospital every day to be with her mother.
One afternoon she showed up at Everett's office with a thermos and sat quietly, waiting for him to clock out.
He had done so much for her that it bothered her. She wasn't the kind of person who liked owing anyone. To make it easier for her to let him keep looking after her, he'd made an agreement: he was too busy to eat lunch most days, so once she was out of the hospital, if she had time, she could bring him something.
She had said yes.
She showed up at the hospital almost every day to see her mother, and every time, she brought an extra container of soup. She'd sit in his office and watch him eat it, collect the container, and leave. That had become the rhythm.
She spent enough time on the floor that she got friendly with the nurses. When she was at her mother's bedside, they'd drop by with gossip and coffee. On days off, they'd go to brunch and the beach.
She was at Everett's office door when a couple of them flagged her down to plan after-shift drinks. She shook her head.
"Not tonight. Dr. Calloway asked me to come by for something." She smiled as she tucked her things away. "Might run late. Next time."
"Dr. Calloway? You two still aren't a thing?"
She blinked.
"You came by the hospital a few times and we all thought, oh, they must be together, he's been in such a good mood — and you're telling me no? He's about to confess, trust me."
One of the nurses leaned in, eyes bright.
Her hand paused.
"Dr. Calloway's just being kind because my brother's a friend of his. It's not — "
The nurse shook her head.
"Honey, he is into you. I have worked in this hospital long enough. I have never seen him like this about anyone. Men do not look at their friend's sister like that."
"You missed a day of bringing him soup once. His mood was noticeably worse. A patient on the next ward was saying something nasty about you and he canceled that patient's surgery. And — he's been paying the nurses out of pocket to keep an eye on you when he can't be around."
"Does that sound like a doctor's bedside manner? Does that sound like somebody's brother?"
"Seraphina. He's a good one. If you're even a little interested — try."
Her face went warm.
"What are you all talking about?"
Everett's voice. Behind her.
He was in his white coat. The nurses scattered with excuses.
Which left the two of them.
She hoped the conversation would just get dropped.
Instead, he stood there, looking straight at her.
She knew. He had heard all of it.
He didn't hide it.
"Seraphina. They were right. I am in love with you."
"So — would you at least consider it?"
He pulled two tickets out of his desk.
The exhibit she'd mentioned a few days back, the one she'd wanted to see.
She looked at the tickets. Then at him.
She'd felt it, honestly, over the last few weeks. Whatever he felt for her had drifted past "friend's little sister" a while ago. She just hadn't been sure, and he hadn't forced anything, so they'd kept going the way they'd been going.
Now she was sure.
But she wasn't ready to be in something new yet.
Before she could find a soft way to say no, he set the tickets down between them.
"Seraphina, if you're hesitating because I repulse you, I'll lock these in a drawer and stop. No pressure."
"But if it's just that you aren't ready — can I ask for a chance? We start slow. You say stop at any point, we stop. Is that fair?"
She looked at the tickets. Then at Everett.
Honestly — his work, the way he held himself, the way he was: he was a good man. Gentle. He knew where lines were. He had never made her feel cornered.
Even Julian sang his praises.
She had closed the door on Damien completely. Why shouldn't she let someone else in slowly?
"Okay. Let's try."