Only two days passed before I saw Jay Callahan again.
Two days of avoiding Xavier's questioning looks across crowded corridors. Two days of replaying that night in his car—the desperate sex, the possessive edge in his voice, the promises he'd made in the dark that felt less solid in daylight.
Two days of trying not to think about the way Jay's eyes had searched my face, looking for something familiar in features he should have known by heart.
Then Thursday arrived, and with it, Jay's scheduled follow-up appointment.
I reviewed his chart at the nurses' station with detached professionalism, letting the clinical language anchor me. Shoulder reduction successful, healing within expected parameters, cleared for light physical therapy.
Just words on a page, just another patient.
Except when I walked into the examination room, Jay was already watching the door like he'd been waiting for exactly this moment.
His gaze tracked my every movement. How I closed the door behind me, or how I crossed to the counter to set down his file, or how my hands moved as I pulled on fresh gloves.
"You came back," he said, and the warmth in his voice made something uncomfortable twist in my chest. "I wasn't sure you would. Thought maybe you'd pawn me off on someone else after last time."
Oh, you have no idea how tempting that was, golden boy.
"You're my patient, Mr. Callahan." I kept my tone neutral, professional. "Pawning you off would be unprofessional."
"Mr. Callahan…" He laughed, low and rough. "You know, nobody calls me that except my father's lawyers. Makes me feel like I'm in trouble. Which, historically, I usually am, but I'm trying to be on my best behavior today. Scout's honor."
"Somehow I doubt you were ever a scout." I gestured toward the examination table. "Shirt off, please. I need to check the mobility in your shoulder."
Amusement for the deflection flickered in his expression, but he complied without argument, pulling his t-shirt over his head in one fluid motion. That made the muscles in his torso flex distractingly and I—professional, composed, totally-over-my-high-school-crush Dr. Summer Ellis—completely forgot how to function.
Because here's the thing about teenage fantasies: they're supposed to stay theoretical. They're supposed to exist safely in your imagination where reality can't touch them.
You're not supposed to end up in a position where you actually have to put your hands on the object of your obsession while maintaining detachment.
The bruising along his ribs had faded from deep purple to a sickly yellow-green, healing exactly as expected. I approached with clinical intent, pressing gently along the joint, testing range of motion.
"Any pain when you lift your arm above your head?" My voice came out steadier than I felt, which was honestly a miracle. "Rotate slowly for me… yes, like that. Any catching or grinding sensation?"
"Little bit of stiffness, but nothing major." His voice had dropped, quieter now. More serious. "You're very good at this, you know. The whole doctor thing. Very composed. Very... untouchable."
"I'm touching you right now." The words came out before I could stop them, and I felt heat creep up my neck. "Medically speaking."
"Medically speaking."
He turned his head, and suddenly his face was much closer to mine than I'd realized. Those blue-green eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"You know what I've noticed about you?" His voice dropped, quieter now, almost intimate. "You deflect. Every time I try to get close, you throw up another barrier. Professionalism, sarcasm, that little half-smile that doesn't reach your eyes..."
His hand moved before I could anticipate it, reaching up to catch mine where it rested on his shoulder.
"Makes a guy curious what you're hiding behind all that armor."
His thumb traced a small circle on the inside of my wrist, his fingers were warm, calloused from years of gripping hockey sticks, and the contact sent electricity shooting up my arm.
"Mr. Callahan…"
"Just Jay. Please. I think we're past the formality at this point, don't you?"
"I don't think…" A hand closed around Jay's wrist before I even registered the footsteps.
Xavier stood beside us, expression arranged in careful neutrality, but the grip he had on Jay's arm was anything but neutral. His knuckles whitened with pressure, and I watched Jay's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly at the contact.
And weirdly, stupidly, some part of me felt... relieved? Like I'd been drowning and Xavier had just pulled me back to shore. Even though I was the one who'd been swimming toward the riptide.
"Mr. Callahan." Xavier's voice was pleasant, measured, and entirely terrifying. "Hospital policy is quite clear about physical contact with medical staff. Especially about not touching. I'm sure you understand. A man in your position must deal with similar... protocols."
My blood turned to ice. He'd seen Jay's hand on mine. He'd seen everything.
The threat beneath his words was unmistakable. Jay heard it—I watched the recognition flicker across his face. But instead of backing down, Jay released my hand with exaggerated surrender, palms raised in mock innocence.
"Absolutely. My mistake entirely. I didn't realize a friendly gesture could be so... inflammatory. I'll be more careful about where I put my hands in the future."
His gaze slid to mine as he said it, and the implication hung heavy in the air between all three of us.
"See that you are." Xavier's smile didn't waver. "Dr. Ellis, I need to consult with you on another patient when you're finished here. My office, five minutes."
He left without waiting for a response. The examination room felt smaller in his absence, the air charged with something dangerous and unresolved.
"Well." Jay reached for his shirt, pulled it back over his head. "That was interesting. Your boss seems very... invested in your professional development."
"Dr. Hale takes his responsibilities seriously." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "He’s my mentor after all."
"Of course, that he is. But I don't think he looks at all the interns the way he looks at you, Dr. Ellis."
Jay stood up, and suddenly he was too close, too tall, and taking up too much space in my carefully controlled environment. I stopped breathing completely just to prevent my chest from brushing against his, aware of the proximity and space between us.
"Or can I call you just Summer? That's what your badge says. Pretty name, though. Suits you."
I opened my mouth, but he rounded me and walked out before I could respond, before I could deny any connection with Xavier above professional. Left me standing in the empty examination room with my heart pounding against my ribs and my thoughts spiraling in directions I couldn't afford to follow.
I forced myself to move. Stripped off the gloves, disposed of them properly, smoothed down my scrubs. By the time I reached the nurses' station to document Jay's follow-up, my hands had almost stopped trembling. Almost.
My friend and colleague Priya, as if summoned, found me there a moment later staring at the same half-finished chart.
"So." She slid into the place beside me, her dark eyes sharp with knowing. "That was quite the show in exam room four. I'm surprised Hale didn't just pee on you right there to mark his territory. Would've been more subtle than whatever that was."
My pen froze mid-word. "Jesus, Priya..."
"What? Half the floor heard your boss threatening a professional hockey player over hospital policy." She leaned closer to my ear, dropping her voice to barely a whisper. "I still don't understand how you can date him, but okay—there's no arguing about tastes. Even when those tastes are objectively terrible."
I shot her a warning look, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "Can we not do this here?"
"I'm just saying." She shrugged, but kept her voice low. "You could do better."
She is the only one who knows about me and Xavier. Even as her best friend, I’m not sure if I am happy about that fact. On one hand I get ultimate support, on the other ruthless reality checks and commentary about my love life and daddy issues for the last three months.
One shift a few weeks ago, Priya had needed gauze pads at 2 AM and had walked into the fourth-floor supply closet. She'd gotten an eyeful image she was still trying to bleach from her memory, apparently—me pressed against the wall with legs around Xavier’s waist.
She backed out so fast she'd crashed into the supply cart, and the fact that Xavier and I hadn't heard her right away when she entered said everything about how... focused we'd been.
She'd cornered me the next day, demanded answers, and had been quietly disapproving our secret workplace romance ever since.
Not judgmental enough to stop being my best friend, but judgmental enough to make her opinion known at every opportunity.
"And now Dr. Grandpa is out here growling at hockey players like a territorial Chihuahua." Priya's whisper carried an edge of dark amusement. "Very subtle, very professional."
"It's not… he's going to…" The excuses felt thin even as I tried to form them. "He just really cares about me. That’s why he’s protective."
"He's protective because he thinks he owns you. Summer, listen to me. You're juggling your boss who treats you like a secret and a pretty boy who treats you like a prize. Do you see the common thread there? "
Priya's voice was gentle but unflinching. I see what she means.
In her opinion, one keeps me hidden because I’m convenient, and the other is chasing me because I’m a challenge.
It landed in soft places I'd been protecting. Places I'd tried to wall off with Xavier's promises and Jay's sudden attention and the desperate need to believe someone could want me now that I'd transformed into someone worth wanting.
I didn't know what I was doing. I'd thought I did—thought Xavier and I had a plan, a possible future, even if unsure. But dirty secrets have a tendency of surfacing in the wrongest timelines, ruining lives and reputations, and neither of us could let this happen.
And now Jay was here, my first crush, my only love for a long time, finally looking at me like I was worth seeing, like I was worth everything to sacrifice for just one more moment near me, making every certainty I'd built crumbling.
What do I actually want?
To be my boss's secret, hoping for a happy future someday without hiding in the closets and dark cars, waiting for him to recognize our relationship publicly?
Or a second chance with the person I once loved most in the world and broke my heart before he knew my name, even if he didn’t recognize me but was already looking at me like I’m his?
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