Melissa freezes. I close my eyes for half a second.
“Frank—” I start.
“Oh no,” he cuts in. “Don’t you dareFrankme. I’ve been stuck in this bed for weeks. Entertainment is limited.”
His eyes gleam. “You two look like you just survived a moment together.”
We both speak at once.
“Nothing.”
“Work.”
Frank snorts. “Sure it was.”
He settles back against his pillows, satisfied. “You know, I’ve always appreciated tension. Keeps things interesting. But don’t let it distract you from your jobs.”
His gaze lingers on me. Knowing. Gentle. Dangerous.
“And don’t kid yourselves,” he adds lightly. “That kind of energy doesn’t come from nowhere.”
Silence stretches.
Melissa clears her throat and moves toward his IV, suddenly very focused.
I can’t stop watching her.
And I can’t stop wondering how much longer I can pretend this isn’t happening. Hours later, I’m alone in my office, reviewing charts. I decided to stay late, a distraction. Going home right now feels impossible with the way my body is worked up. But I leave my door cracked open just in case a nurse needs me.
They know I’m off duty, technically, but I still want them to ask any questions they might have.
I’m analyzing Frank’s numbers when I notice a shadow at my door. I look up and see Melissa’s face pop in.
“You’re still here?” she states.
“So are you.”
She hesitates. “I was finishing Frank’s intake notes.”
I nod. “Good.” That comes out rougher than I intended.
She shifts her weight, fingers curling around the chart she’s holding. The room feels smaller. Or maybe I’m more aware of how close she is to my desk.
Too close.
Not close enough.
“Melissa,” I say quietly.
She looks up, immediately attentive.
“Whatever this is,” I continue, choosing each word carefully, “it doesn’t belong here.”
Her expression doesn’t harden. It does the opposite.
“I know,” she says.
And that somehow makes it worse. Was I hoping for her to argue against me?