Chapter Twenty-Nine
Melissa
The vending machine hums softly in front of me, its fluorescent glow too bright for the early afternoon lull of the oncology floor.
I stare at it like it’s asking me a deeply personal question.
Chips or chocolate. Sweet or salty. Something indulgent or at least pretending to be practical.
My badge swings lightly against my scrubs as I shift my weight, arms folded, eyes scanning the options I already know by heart. I’m not even that hungry. This is just … thinking time. A pause. A way to stand still without anyone asking me for anything.
“Having a moment?” a familiar voice murmurs behind me.
Before I can turn, arms slide around my waist. I inhale sharply.
Colton’s presence is unmistakable. It’s solid and warm. His chest presses into my back, his chin hovering above myshoulder. The contact is brief enough to be deniable, close enough to make my pulse spike.
I glance around instinctively. The break room is empty.
“Colton,” I whisper, half a warning, half a breath.
He smiles into my hair. “Relax. No one’s here.”
“This is wildly inappropriate,” I say, even as my hands rest over his forearms.
“And yet,” he replies quietly, “you’re not moving away.”
He’s right. I’m not.
He doesn’t tighten his hold. Doesn’t push. Just stays there, like this is the most natural thing in the world. Like we’re a couple who wraps their arms around each other in hospital break rooms all the time.
And that thought—that this feels like a couple thing—sends a ripple of fear straight through my chest.
I’m falling for him. I know I am.
There’s no dramatic realization. No thunderclap. Just the quiet understanding that these moments are starting to feel less thrilling and more … settling. They feel comfortable, like we’ve been doing it for much longer.
“What are you debating?” he asks softly.
“The eternal question,” I reply. “Peanut M&M’s or pretzels.”
He hums thoughtfully. “M&M’s.”
“You didn’t even hesitate.”
“Life’s too short to pretend pretzels are dessert.”
I laugh before I can stop myself, leaning back slightly into him. He squeezes me once, quick and affectionate, then steps away as casually as he arrived.
My heart keeps racing long after his arms are gone.
“Frank’s asking for you,” he says, voice back to neutral, professional.
“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll head there now.”
As I grab the M&M’s—because of course I do—I feel his eyes on me for a beat longer than necessary. But when I turn, he’s already gone.
I don’t know whether that makes it easier or harder.