•Noah Wyle makes up 10% of the writers room. He isn’t the sole writer of this show. Six other people are credited with having had written more episodes than him.
•The writers and directors are real people. It is never okay to threaten anyone. It’s okay to make a post about how you feel regarding the season finale. It is NEVER okay to say someone should die over it. They will very likely be looking at people’s reactions so there is no need to put your criticism in their social media comment sections.
-As of recent I’ve seen a few people comment their opinions on the show on Noah Wyle's most recent instagram post, which is a post of him honoring and remembering Robert Carradine. Do not do that. That’s so disrespectful to not just him but also to Robert Carradine and his family.
•Noah Wyle isn’t Robby. He is playing a character, someone who isn’t real. I can't believe this has to be said but I have seen a solid amount of people who don’t know the difference. Robby is a character who has been shaped by the hands of many writers, multiple directors, Noah's acting, and stories of healthcare workers. Robby's actions are not that of Noah Wyle.
•Robby is the main character of the show. We have been very blessed with a storyline that gives time to other characters but that doesn’t change the fact that Robby is the main character. He will very likely have a lot of screen time and that isn’t because the writers hate the other characters or think Robby is the best character. It’s that he’s the main character. He’s the main device being used to tell this story. The story is structured to follow him and has been from the start.
•Within the next few days you will likely see a bunch of information be said about Noah Wyle and other cast members. If you see someone making a serious statement about them make sure to look for a credible source. Do not trust people off Tiktok, Instagram, Reddit, and any other social media. I’ve seen multiple instances of interviews being out of context and claiming things about the cast members that are untrue. Misinformation spreads quickly for a reason.
“Yeah, definitely. And I’ll check in when I get to work.”
I finished plating up the eggs onto each of the plates as Carter walked into the kitchen, Meghan on his hip. One side of her hair was in a braid, while the other was still sticking out everywhere. We had had a little family day after our therapy appointment yesterday and had gotten home so exhausted we forgot to lay out stuff for today. It left us just a little bit frazzled. Carter gave me a ‘help me’ face, so I set down the pan and grabbed Meghan quickly.
“Bye Auntie!” Meghan called out as I took her into the dining room and set her in the chair. At the moment, only God knew who she was yelling at with the multitude of “Aunts” and “Uncles” she had in that ER. I walked back into the kitchen and grabbed both of our plates, already finding Carter trying to shovel food into his mouth while still in conversation. When I set Meghan’s food down, she started to eat as I tried to match the other braid Carter had actually already done a surprisingly good job on. It made me smile a bit, thinking about the days in the future where one of us would be doing Meghan’s hair while the other did Brianna’s.
I had finished up her hair and was finally shoveling my own food in my mouth as Carter walked out of the kitchen. “Who was that?” I asked in between bites.
“Elizabeth.” He replied, going into the mudroom space to grab his bag and double check he had everything. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smile when he came across the snack I had snuck in there before I made breakfast.
“Is she still in trouble because of that transplant?”
“Yeah....... I feel bad. I’m the one who talked her into it. I feel like she shouldn’t be the only one getting reprimanded.” He shook his head and closed up his bad. “I’m going to try and talk to Weaver before shift about it.”
“Well, while I really don’t want you to be getting in trouble right before Brianna gets out of the NICU, I do get wanting to do the right thing by our friend.”
“Are you okay taking separate cars?”
“Yeah. I need to clean up some before we head over.” I ate my last forkful. “Hey, Veronica said if Brianna was doing good, they were going to move her to low flow today or last night. I’ll come down and let you know if they do.”
“Sounds great.” He walked over and gave me a kiss, before kissing the top of Meghan’s head. “Bye Bug. Have a fun day at daycare.”
“Bye Daddy.” She said, looking up and blowing him a kiss.
Carter chuckled and caught it, before he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. As soon as it closed behind him, I stacked up the dishes and gave Meghan my own kiss. “Alright crazy girl. Let’s get things cleaned up so we can get out of here.”
“I talked her into doing it.”
Carter had been trying to talk Weaver out of reprimanding Elizabeth to harshly for the better part of half an hour. He had a hand in this, and no matter how much it would really suck if he was put on probation again, or worse, he wasn’t going to let Elizabeth go down on her own. But like most conversations with Weaver, it was like talking to a brick wall.
“Your hand never touched a scalpel.” She told him, for maybe the third or fourth time. “Look, we’re just trying to determine Dr. Corday’s understanding of the law—”
“That’s about to change.”
“Find the current law regarding HIV-positive organ transplant.”
“The donor was originally my patient.” Carter continued, following Weaver around the desk. “I’m just trying to ask for an opportunity to speak on her behalf.”
“Attendance is limited to department heads. Last time I checked, you weren’t one.”
“Bring it on people. Dr. Pratt is on the clock and ready to rock!” Pratt rounded the desk, a huge smile on his face. He looked a whole lot better than he did a couple weeks ago and had absolutely no idea the argument he had just walked in on.
Weaver’s eyes followed him a moment before she started towards the elevator. “Which reminds me, I’m concerned we have doctors using work as therapy for post-traumatic stress.”
“He’s fine.” Carter scoffed.
“I’m not talking about him.” Carter stepped onto the elevator with Weaver. “Look, I got your request for extra shifts..... and it seems to me you’re glossing over some of your susceptibilities.”
“Hold the elevator!”
“Too late.” Weaver called out to the voice.
“Sorry.” Carter added as the doors closed, leaving just the two of them inside.
“I’m sorry to bring up your history of substance abuse... but the fact is, you’re still an addict. You’ve been through an emotional roller coaster these last few months. And I know what it’s like. Why push it? Why tempt fate? God knows you don’t need the money.”
Carter crossed his arms. “If you must know, Evie and I have been going to therapy.” And he wasn’t going to tell her he’d been trying to ween away as much as possible from using family money when he could. “There’s no problem, Kerry.”
“Well good. Because I’m not in the business of safeguarding doctor’s licenses. Not twice anyway.” She stepped off the elevator and Carter pressed the button to hold it open.
“So no extra shifts?”
“Use the time to be with your family. Go to the movies. Take weekend trips. Make sure that nursery is ready for when your daughter comes home. Do something other than hang around this hellhole.”
Carter sighed as Kerry walked away. He let go of the button and the doors slid shut in front of him. Maybe...... maybe Kerry was right. Brianna was so close to coming home. No matter how much he wanted to and loved to work, he loved his family more. And yes, Brianna’s nursery was still not finished. They had barely started putting furniture together when everything happened. With the possibility of her coming home now sooner rather than later, it would be good to get the room done, even if Evie would want her in the bassinet by their bed for a while. He let out another sigh as the doors opened back up to the ER, and he stepped into back into the chaos.
I was so absolutely elated, that the moment Brianna went down for her mid-morning nap, I left the NICU and headed down to the ER for the first time in who knows when. That low flow nasal cannula was the best things I had seen in a really, really long time. It was the most I had ever gotten to see of our sweet baby girl’s face. My heart nearly leapt out of my body when she smiled as I held her for the first time after it was on. Even though she definitely had some similarities in appearance to Meghan, it was plain to see Brianna was her father's daughter. Same nose, same big brown eyes. Same lips and chin. It was like I hadn’t even brought any genes to her creation.
The elevator door opened to the ER and I smiled, my head on a swivel as I tried to find my husband. I saw Chuny and Jerry right away. It took a moment before I caught sight of him, a trauma gown in his hand as he was about to walk outside to the ambulance bay.
“Carter!” I exclaimed to get his attention before running towards him. He turned, forgetting about the gown he had in his hand when he saw me. I ran straight into his arms, flinging my arms around his neck and giving him a deep, hard kiss. It took him by surprise at first, but just as quickly, he wrapped his arms around my waist and melted into me. It didn’t matter in this moment that we were in the middle of our place of work. I was too happy.
Eventually, Carter broke the kiss, moving back from me with a surprised expression on his face. “What’s going on?” He chuckled, clearing his throat when his voice caught.
“Brianna’s on low flow oxygen and she’s handling it well this time.”
“Really?!” He asked, his eyes going wide.
“Yeah. You can even see more of her face.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture of her smiling. His own got so big as he took my phone holding it up so he could really see.
“She looks like me.”
“I know.” I chuckled. “All the nurses upstairs keep talking about it.” I put a hand on his arm. “They said if she stays stable, we can start the countdown to going home.”
Carter grabbed me tightly and hugged me hard. “I can’t believe it.” He whispered and I nodded in response.
“I know. Me either. Carter, she could be home before her due date.” I squeezed his arms and even bounced up and down a bit. “I thought maybe to celebrate, we could go grab a coffee or treat from the cafeteria if you had time.”
Carter sighed and handed me back my phone. “I wish. We’ve got a pedes trauma coming in.”
“Oh no. How many?”
“Two. Don’t know details yet.”
I nodded and brought him forward, hugging him one more time. He snuck a quick kiss to my neck and I snuck one to his cheek before he stepped back. Since I was there, I went ahead and tied the trauma gown for him while he put on gloves and placed his stethoscope around his neck. He snuck one more kiss, this time to my lips. “We will celebrate tonight.” He told me before hustling out to the ambulance bay.
“Celebrate what?”
My brow furrowed for a moment as my brain was trying to process that yes, I had heard the correct voice. I turned and my smile grew bigger as I saw it was indeed Jing-Mei standing behind me. And yes, it was even more exciting to see her standing. “Would you look at you!” I exclaimed, going over and hugging her tightly. “Back up on your feet already. How does it feel?”
“Better.” She replied, giving me a squeeze before stepping back. “Just got my cast cut off.”
“Got impatient with ortho I see and just had to come down here.”
“Guilty.” She scoffed and looked me up and down. “And would you look at you. You’re looking better than the last time I saw you. How’s Brianna?”
“Uh, at the risk of jinxing it..... she’s doing great. I just came down to tell Carter she moved to low flow. Just a couple more steps and we can finally take her home.”
“That’s amazing. She’s what a few months now, right?”
“She’s just barely over two months. But then you get into corrected age and it’s all a little complicated. 64 days in the NICU.”
“Man, that’s a lot. I’m proud of you guys for making it through.”
“Me too.” I smiled, this time a little sad. “It’s..... it’s been hard.” Jing-Mei put a hand on my arm. “But pretty soon, Bree’s going to be home. I think Meghan’s the most excited out of all of us. She still hasn’t gotten to meet her yet.”
“Oh yeah. NICU rules about kids under twelve. She must be itching to meet her.”
“Definitely. But soon.” I nodded. “Soon.”
Jing-Mei smiled at me. “I’ve got to go and get back to my dad, but it was really good to see you Evie. And I’m glad to hear Brianna is doing good.”
“You too.” I hugged her tightly again before we said our final goodbyes and she left the ER. Taking a deep breath, I looked around at the chaos one more time before heading back towards the elevator foyer. But as I was walking, I caught sight of something by trauma. Or really, someone.
I stopped in my tracks, seeing a pretty scared looking boy looking into the trauma room. And for some reason, I felt a pull to go to him. It wasn't a new feeling, but it was one I hadn’t had in quite some time with Brianna and Meghan’s well-being my absolute only priority. It felt like I was back in my nursing shoes again.
Knowing Brianna was upstairs in good hands, I made my way over to the boy. I looked into the trauma room, seeing Carter, Abby, Chuny, Pratt, and a new guy I didn’t recognize working on a little girl. I looked back down at the boy. “Do you know her?” I asked in a calm, quiet voice.
“Is my sister gonna die?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the room.
My breath caught in my throat for a second, before I knelt down by him. “What’s your name buddy?”
“Saige.” He replied, his eyes still not leaving his sister.
“Well, Saige, my name is Evie. I.... I’m a nurse. And those doctors are doing everything they can to make sure that that doesn’t happen.” I paused a moment, looking around. “Saige, is your mom here?”
“They took her to a room.”
I nodded. “Yeah, probably the family room. Why don’t we go and find her? Maybe we can see if the doctors have told her anything about your sister.”
“Sisters.”
That’s right. Carter had said there were two victims. “Sisters.” I repeated quietly. I slowly stood and put a careful hand on Saige’s shoulder, waiting to see what he would do. But when he didn’t jerk away, I carefully turned him away from the trauma room and led him the long way to the family room. That way we could maybe talk some more. “Saige, I don’t really know specifics about your sisters, but do you want me to answer any questions for you?”
He was silent a moment before looking up at me. “Is my mom gonna be okay?”
“Well, I can imagine it’s probably really hard for her right now. I know it would be for me if my little girls were hurt. She’s worried and upset. I’m sure you are too. But hopefully your sisters will get better really soon.” We rounded the corner and I stopped a moment, seeing a few cops standing together talking. I watched them a second before looking down at Saige. That’s when I noticed the growing dark spot on his pants.
“I’m sorry.” He quietly got out. I could see tears pooling in his eyes, and I wasn’t sure if they were of fear or embarrassment.
“Hey, no, it’s okay.” I tried to comfort him. “It’s no problem buddy. Stuff like this happens all the time.”
“Evie.” I looked up and noticed Abby standing in the doorway of the family room.
“Hey, uh, Abby. This is my friend Saige.”
“We’ve met.” She replied, smiling down at the kid.
“We’re just gonna grab some scrubs from the supply closet and get cleaned up.”
“Are you sure? I can do that if you need to get back upstairs.”
I shook my head. “Nah. I’m good.” I waved her off. “I can handle this.”
Easily finding my way to the scrub closet, a place I was very familiar with, I grabbed some scrubs that would work for Saige. I also gathered some things to help him wipe off and clean up, giving him some privacy until he was fully changed. I knelt down to the ground and rolled up the pant legs since they were still a little too long. “These work great Saige. Just make sure if you have to go again, you let me know and I’ll help you find the bathroom, okay?”
“Okay.”
I smiled at him and stood, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “All right, now let’s go find your mom.” He nodded and I started making my way towards the door. But when I opened it for him, he was still standing in his spot, looking at me. I furrowed my brow. “You okay?”
“I was scared.” He admitted.
“Of course you were.” I validated. From what I could piece together from conversation in the hallway by the cops, the girls had been pushed out of the window by their insane, drunken father. It had disgusted me when I heard it as I waited for Saige to change. Of course he would have been scared of an abusive parent.
“I should’ve done something to stop it.”
I sighed, my heart breaking for the kid as I walked back towards him. “Saige..... you’re just a kid.”
He shook his head. “I’m the oldest.”
My heart squeezed again and I suddenly wondered what the same sentiment would sound like coming out of Meghan’s mouth. “You’re 9.” I started. “You’re father..... he’s a grown man. There’s only so much you could have done.”
Saige shook his head. “He was never there.”
An icy chill went up my spine, my Spidey senses tingling at the sure tone of his voice. “Who?” I asked, wanting confirmation of what I already knew.
“My father.”
“But your mother said it was your father that hurt your sister.”
“My father hasn’t been around in over a year. I.... I think he died.”
I really needed to find someone who was actually on shift. Right now.
What I thought was going to be a quick trip to the ER to celebrate with my husband, suddenly became a whole lot more then I bargained for. But hey, why did I expect anything less? I found Abby and Carter in trauma, cleaning up the poor little girl from earlier, Kali. I had to close my eyes for a moment when I saw the tub sticking out of her little mouth. She didn’t look barely any older than Meghan. I told them what I knew and now the three of us and the new social worker were standing outside of the family room as I watched Saige and his mom holding each other through the window.
“Police went to Dad’s favorite bar and confirmed he died last year.” Wendall, the social worker, confirmed what Saige had told me. “Shot to death in some holdup.”
“After that, Saige said mom couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.” I added, putting my hands in my pockets.
“Yeah, after years of abuse, she probably didn’t know what to do with herself.” Carter sighed.
“Any psychiatric history?” Abby asked.
“No. Wendall started. “But insurance records show that her outpatient clinic had her on valium three times a day. Stayed on it six months until she ran out of money.”
“How long ago was that?” Carter asked.
“Last week.”
“Must be benzo withdraw.” I offered.
“If she quit cold turkey could be psychosis, delusional thinking, hallucinations.” Carter trailed off at the end, looking back at them.
“Did the oldest kid say what really went on?” Abby asked me, not knowing what all we had talked about in our brief time together.
“No.” I shrugged. “But I think you can forget about him talking to the cops. He got really scared when he saw them.”
“Hey, Lockhart, EMS coordinator called for you.” Ray interrupted, a smug look on his face. “Sounded pretty pissed about your ride-along.”
Abby moved her neck, biting her lip before saying sorry, and walking away as Chuny left the family room. “Hey Chuny, how is she?” I asked.
“Better.” She sighed. “I gave her 10 of valium, PO.”
“Psychosis should start resolving.” Wendall added.
“Maybe now she can tell you guys what really happened.” I offered.
Wendall nodded and turned to walk into the room, but Carter stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “You okay?”
I scoffed. “Well, I didn’t expect to take on a half nursing shift today. Maybe I should have clocked in?” I tried to joke. Carter gave me a half smile and squeezed my hand. “I’m okay. Really. Get in there and see how you can help. I’m going to go back upstairs and check on Bree.”
He nodded and leaned in, kissing me on the cheek before he turned and went into the room. I stood there for a moment, watching all of them in the room. Hopefully they could get the help they need and Saige would be okay.
“Look at you go.” I cooed as I looked down at Brianna. She was nursing well, her fingers splayed out over my chest. She did this all the time now when she nursed, almost like she was scared that I was going to pull her off before she was finished, her appetite really starting to ramp up. “You’re an old pro at this now, aren’t you?”
“Of course she is.” I looked up and smiled at Carter as he pulled over a chair and sat in front of me. He was in his normal clothes and he looked absolutely exhausted.
“I’m guessing everything didn’t go well with that family?” I asked.
Carter sighed and wiped his face with his hands. “Uh.... no. No it didn’t. Our, uh, suspicions were correct.” I understood exactly what he meant without him having to say it. He reached forward and stroked Bree’s cheek as she continued to nurse. “And, uh, Evie..... Elizabeth is gone.”
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“She decided not to take Weaver’s demotion and she is moving back to England.”
“Oh man.... did.... did you try to talk to her?”
“I did.” He nodded. “And she seemed happy with her decision. And I honestly can’t blame her. She gets to move back home, be with her family. Raise Ella away from all of the ghosts.”
“But one of those ghosts is Mark.” I countered. Carter nodded and bit his lip, this time, running a thumb over Bree’s head. She grunted, like she was annoyed that he was disrupting her dinner. That actually got a small smile out of Carter. “I can’t believe it. Meghan’s losing her first friend.”
“I know. I never thought this would happen. Especially so young.” Carter sighed. “Speaking of, Meghan’s outside with Miriam and I know if I don’t leave with her now, she’s going to try and force her way in here. And besides, we don’t want to interrupt the princess’ feast, now do we?”
I chuckled. “We sure don’t.”
Carter leaned down and gave me a kiss. “Chinese take-out?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
I smiled. “It’s like you read my mind.”
Today felt like an absolute fever dream—one I thought would never come.
After a week of no apnea spells, going from using low flow only at night to not at all, and passing her car seat test, Brianna was finally ready to come home. Abby was amazing—she took Meghan for the morning, even on one of her precious days off, so we could go get Bree and surprise Meghan with her. I must have packed and repacked the diaper bag five times, wanting to make sure I had everything we might need, especially the outfit we had planned for Bree to come home in. It was a soft, adorable little onesie with cherries all over it. Despite being a preemie size, we knew it probably still wouldn’t exactly fit her correctly. But it was the outfit Meghan had chosen, and we wanted to include our oldest as much as we possible could.
Carter and I were holding hands as he drove us back into the city to head to County. But when he took a right turn instead of a left, I turned to him. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” Was all he said, a big dopey smile on his face. It was the kind of smile I hadn’t seen on him in a while, which made me just squeeze his hand and enjoy the ride, knowing we’d be with our baby soon enough. But when we pulled up to the location of said surprise, I wasn’t ashamed to say I started tearing up a bit.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, looking out the car window at the burger place where we had eaten on our first date and so many times since then.
“I thought that since this will be the last time for a while we are without two kids, maybe we could enjoy a meal alone together at the place that started it all.”
I leaned in over the console and kissed him hard. “I love you.” I said, breathless and so happy. “But if we’re being picky, County is actually the place that started it all.”
Carter laughed, like a full, real laugh, before he got out of the car and went to grab our order: two burgers, fries, and milkshakes just like we did that day. We enjoyed it in the car, talking about nothing and everything all at once. It was probably the best burger I had in a really long time. A celebratory meal. Once I was finished, I pulled out my breast pump in order to stay on schedule, and when everything was packed up, we made our way to County.
As we walked inside the hospital and up to the NICU for the final time, Carter carried the car seat and I carried the diaper bag, the two of us holding hands. I grew more and more giddy as the elevator climbed, and I thought my heart was going to burst the moment we stepped in and saw Brianna. She was lying in her crib, wrapped tightly in a hospital blanket. Almost all of the monitors had been removed, and the cannula was no longer in her nose.
“Hi sweet girl.” I cooed as I sat the diaper bag on the nearby chair. I gently stroked her cheek and she let out a soft, sweet little sound like she was saying hello. “Are you ready to go home today?” She let out another sound and Carter chuckled.
“I think that’s a yes.” He said, having put down the car seat and walked over to us. “I know we’re definitely ready.”
Before we got her changed and put in her going home outfit, I nursed her for the first time in two days. One of the protocols for her to leave, was she had to take all of her feedings by bottle for 48 hours, so I’d only been pumping. I was worried that she might back track because she seemed to like nursing so much, but thankfully baby girl had cooperated. And now that I was able to nurse her again, she seemed extra happy. While I nursed, Carter spent the time packing up everything and taking it down to the car so we would be ready to go when she was officially discharged.
After she was done feeding, Carter changed her diaper and then it was time to put her in the onesie Meghan had picked out. As I suspected, even for a preemie size, it still fit her slightly big, but she was just too damn adorable in it for us to care. We took a couple pictures of her in her NICU crib one last time, wanting to document the end of a really hard, long journey. We even took final photos with Miriam and Veronica when they came by with the discharge papers and thanked them for everything they had done for us. It was really cool to see Brianna’s polaroid hung up on the wall alongside all the other families.
Carter looked like he was trying to defuse a bomb with how slowly he was putting Brianna in her car seat. But it was alright, I knew he was nervous. In therapy this week, we talked about our feelings about finally getting to bring Brianna home, and he actually opened up about how scared he was. This was going to be his first time truly being able to take care of a newborn. With Meghan, he had only gotten two weeks before the attack had left him all but useless when it came to baby care. Even though Brianna was technically older than Meghan had been then, she was still as small. He was actually really scared that something would happen with Brianna and he wouldn’t know what to do, since I had been the one to mainly raise Meghan those first few months of her life.
When he told me that, I had gotten really emotional. I hadn’t let myself think about that time in so long. By now, I was so used to Carter being such a present, hands on dad that I sometimes forgot how lonely those early months had been—after the stabbing, before rehab—when I was doing so much of it alone. This..... this was really his first chance to do it right. To be fully there. To raise a baby from the beginning.
And I saw just how much he truly cared and wanted to get things right, not just for Brianna, but I think also for me. I saw it in the way his hands shook as he tightened the straps of the car seat, checking everything twice, including her head support. How he so carefully tucked her blanket in. How hard he squeezed my hand as we finally descended down the elevator with our baby. Free—but also terrified. Because for the first time, there wouldn’t be monitors. No nurses. No safety net. Just the two of us and our experience as parents and medical professionals. I leaned closely into him and kissed his shoulder. Wrapping my arm and hand around his bicep, I gave him a reassuring squeeze, trying to mentally tell him it was all going to be okay.
When we finally stepped out of County and into the sunlight of this perfect day, we didn’t immediately go straight to the car. We walked around the corner and made our way into the ambulance bay. It was actually pretty clear for once, no ambulances and just a couple people walking through. That’s when I pulled and my phone and held it up to my ear. “Hey, Frank.” I smiled when the call was answered. “Do you think you and a couple people could come out to the ambulance bay. And a couple minutes later, Luka, Chuny, Susan, Frank, Pratt, and Haleh all walked out through the ambulance bay doors. As soon as they saw us, their faces lit up.
“Oh my god!” Chuny exclaimed. “Is that......?”
“Yeah.” Carter chuckled. “Everyone, we want you all to officially meet Brianna Millicent Carter.” He turned the car seat around so that everyone could look inside and see her sweet face. The sound of ahs and coos filled the ambulance bay as they all bent down to various levels to see her.
“Would you look at that?” Haleh sighed, a hand on her chest. “That is one beautiful baby.”
“No kidding.” Susan added with a smile. “Congrats you guys.”
“Thanks.” I said, smiling. “And thanks for coming out here. We wanted to bring her by to meet everyone before we left. But we didn’t think the ER and a preemie really mixed just yet.”
“Hey, she could have handled it.” Pratt smirked, shrugging his shoulders. “She’s a fighter. She’s built for this place.”
Chuny and Haleh came over and each gave me a hug, followed by Luka, who also gave Carter a handshake. “You two be careful getting that one home.” He all but ordered. “I know a little girl who’s very excited to meet her.”
“No kidding.” Carter scoffed.
We said our goodbyes and soon we were on the road home. I sat in the backseat with Brianna, holding tight to Carter’s hand, his arm bent over the console to the back so he could be included. I called Abby as soon as we left County and told her she could start heading towards the house with Meghan, but reminded her not to say anything about the surprise. I wanted to be able to see the look on her face when she realized her sister was home.
Pulling up to the house, I waited a few moments after Carter parked the car, still not believing we were actually here. “We’re home Bree.” Carter said, smiling at me through the rear view mirror. He got out first and made his way over to her side of the car, opening the door before I even started to climb out. He had carefully taken her from the car seat as I made my way around, and once I was beside him, he passed Brianna over to me, resting her on my chest. I could feel her sweet little baby breaths against my neck.
We had decided for her first official welcome home, we would come in through the front door instead of the back side door by the kitchen like we normally did. It was a momentous occasion and she deserved a grand entrance. But the moment I walked into the foyer with our sweet little baby in my arms, Carter closing the door behind us, I couldn’t help but look around the house and suddenly burst into tears. It was suddenly so unbelievably overwhelming to be here after all of this time. And thankfully, Carter didn’t try and say anything to calm my down. He just wrapped his arms around me and let me cry into his shoulder, Brianna sleeping nice and warm in between us.
Eventually, I was able to calm down enough that we gave her a little tour of the house. We showed her all of the downstairs and then when we went upstairs, we quickly passed by Meghan’s room before walking into the nursery. “And here is your room baby girl.” I cooed as we stepped inside. The fairytale theme I had picked months ago felt even more right and perfect in this moment. The leafy floral wallpaper was a beautiful backdrop to the crib, a sign baring Brianna’s name hanging in the middle of it. It was calm and serene, everything I knew we needed after the longest months of our lives.
“Let’s go take her upstairs.” Carter whispered, kissing the top of my head before he looked down at Bree. “Meghan should be home soon.” I nodded and let him lead me with a hand on my lower back up the last flight of stairs.
“And this is mommy and daddy’s room.” I told her. Brianna seemed to be immediately mesmerized by the ceiling fan whirling overhead thanks to the summer heat. I took a moment to stand in the middle of the room, letting her watch it. “Do you think I should be holding her when Meghan gets up here?” I asked Carter, wanting his take on the surprise.
“I think you should put her in the bassinet. Throw Meghan off a bit.”
“I like your thinking.” I smiled. Putting a little bounce in my step, I walked over to the bassinet, pulling it just a little bit closer to the side of the bed before laying Brianna down inside it. “Oh my God. She looks even smaller in here than she did at the hospital.”
Carter chuckled and walked over to me, looking down at our youngest. “I think it’s going to seem that way for quite some time.” He put his arm back around my waist and this time I leaned into his chest, just standing there in his embrace while we watched our daughter take everything in. But what seemed like only seconds later, the doorbell rang through the house.
“That’s Abby.” Carter said, his tone carrying even more excitement than it had all day. “I’ll go get her. Be right back.” He gave me another kiss on the head. “Don’t do anything to cute while I’m gone.” He told Bree before walking back down the stairs.
Sitting down on the bed, I stared down at Brianna, lying there in her bassinet, cooing and looking around at her surroundings. It was absolutely surreal that she was here right now, right beside our bed. A few months ago, this didn’t seem even remotely possible. Now, she would be spending nights here in our room or in the nursery that had sat empty for months. Meghan was about to finally get to meet her baby sister for the very first time. And it wasn’t long before I heard multiple voices downstairs, then the closing of the door, and the sound of feet bounding up the steps.
“Hi sweetheart.” I said, smiling at Meghan as she appeared at the top of the stairs and into our room.
“Mommy!” She exclaimed and ran towards the bed. Carter was right behind her and he chuckled when she didn’t even notice the bassinet and ran straight to me. Meghan wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her head into my middle. Thankfully my c-section scar didn’t hurt anymore or I would have yelped. I bent down and kissed the top of her head.
“How was Aunt Abby’s house?” I asked, running my finger through her hair.
“Fun! We had ice cream!”
I chuckled. “Of course you did.” I shook my head and looked up at Carter, who was now bent down behind Meghan.
“Hey Bug.” He started. “Mommy and I have someone we want you to meet.”
Meghan turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Who daddy?”
Carter pointed in the direction of the bassinet and Meghan gaze followed. When she saw he was pointing at the bassinet, her little brow furrowed like she was concentrating too hard. Slowly, she walked over to it and when she finally saw Brianna laying inside, her little limbs wiggling as she cooed softly, I started crying when Meghan turned back around to us, her little eyes wide like saucers. Her head quickly turned around to look back at the baby and then us.
“It’s Bree!”
A wet laugh left me and I nodded. “Yeah, sweetie. It is.”
“She’s home!” Meghan put her little hands on the edge of the bassinet and acted like she was going to pull herself into it.
“Woah, woah, woah.” Carter exclaimed, getting up and going over to her. He gently helped her back to the ground. “Easy there kiddo.”
“But I want to see sissy.” Meghan whined. “Please.”
Carter smiled and pushed her hair from her face. “You can definitely see her sweetie. But maybe let’s let mommy hold her.”
Meghan quickly turned to me as I was wiping my face. “Please mommy, please.”
“Sure thing sweet girl.” I said quietly, my voice cracking with emotion. Carter carefully reached into the bassinet and picked Brianna up. She let out an upset little noise, like she was telling him she didn’t appreciate being moved. But once she was in my arms, she relaxed again, snuggling into my chest. I adjusted myself against my pillows and the headboard. “Come here Meghan.” I pat the spot on the bed beside me.
Meghan quickly climbed her way onto the bed and once she was beside me, she wouldn’t look anywhere but her sister. “Hi Bree. I’m your sissy. I’m Meghan.” Meghan turned to me, putting a hand on my chest. “Mommy, can I touch?”
My heart clenched at that and more tears fell. “Yeah sweetie. You can touch her. Just be really careful.”
That was all the permission Meghan needed. She reached forward and carefully ran her fingers over Brianna’s head. “She’s soft and fuzzy.” Meghan said, smiling up at me as she continued the motion. I looked up at Carter and noticed he was now crying as well. “I been waiting for you Bree. For forever!” She exclaimed. “Mama, can I hold her?”
“Sure sweetheart. Come sit in between my legs.”
Carter grabbed my nursing pillow and put it in Meghan’s lap once she was situated. Then he helped me maneuver Brianna until Meghan was holding her. Brianna began to fuss again, her face scrunching up as she cried. “It’s okay sissy.” Meghan cooed as Carter reached for a pacifier. “Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are?” Meghan began to sing. “Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky.” Brianna started to quiet down and she looked up at Meghan with big, brown eyes that mirrored her big sister’s.“Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are?” Meghan smiled and wrapped her arms tighter around her sister. “I helped her stop!” She exclaimed.
“You did Bug.” Carter replied, clearing his throat. “She remembers your voice from when she was in mommy’s belly.”
“Can I kiss her?”
“Sure sweetheart.” I replied, giving her permission. Meghan moved her head forward and so softly kissed the top of Brianna’s head. When she sat up, I did the same to her. “What do you think Meggy?”
“She’s cute.” She adjusted the blanket around Brianna. “And I like the cherries on her clothes. I knew she’d like them. I’m glad she’s home.”
“We are too.”
Meghan sat in my lap, so happy and so gentle. She carefully played with Brianna’s fingers and gently stroked her hair. Occasionally, she would sing again or would start to tell her baby sister about her day. Eventually, Carter joined us in the bed and we carefully undressed Brianna, showing Meghan her little toes and her cute little legs. Meghan asked where everything was on her when she was in the hospital, so we did our best to explain to her what everything was and where it had been attached.
“Sissy was really brave.” Meghan had said, and that got me crying again.
When Brianna started crying because she was hungry, we explained to Meghan so she wouldn’t be upset when I took her away. What I didn’t expect was Meghan wanting to watch her as she ate. She sat up in between Carter and I and laid her head on my arm, just staring at and admiring her sister as she nursed. She even stroked Brianna’s foot gently as she ate.
The four of us stayed in that bed for a long time, none of us wanting to leave this moment. This was the moment I had pictured a hundred times in the NICU. And somehow, it was even better. I don’t think I had ever been so completely, overwhelmingly happy in my life.
The next day, Meghan, Carter, and I blew out a pink birthday candle on top of a cupcake for Brianna to celebrate what was supposed to be her original due date, July 29th.
hi honey! i absolutely love ur account and i can’t wait for the next chapter!! i loved the snippet of season 15 carter. sending love xx 🫶🫶
Thank you!! The love is received and very much appreciated! 💜 Sorry this took so long. I hope you guys enjoy. I also have more Snapshot episodes coming really soon!
The Monroe Effect: Chapter 107
Set during Season 11, Episode 3 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.
Warnings: Canonical Medical Issues, NICU Baby, Possible Inaccurate Medical Information, Breastfeeding/Nursing
WC: 9.6 k (you guys deserved a big chapter after my break)
ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original characters.
When I had told Carter that we should go see a therapist and he had actually agreed, I just assumed that he would keep putting things off until we jut needed up never going. Especially after how the one and only time we had been therapy went during his rehab stint. But when he told me he scheduled an emergency appointment with someone who came highly recommended, I was shocked. Thankfully the therapist, a Dr. Elaine Duncan, agreed to see us on the 3rd, despite the holiday weekend, promising that we would be her only appointment for the day and that we could talk as long as we wanted this first time around. However, that still didn’t reassure me that we would actually go. No, it wasn’t until we both were sitting in the car, parked outside of the office, that I really and truly believed that we were here.
The waiting room was quiet as we walked in, hand in hand. It wasn’t too cozy, but enough to not be completely sterile and impersonal like other doctor's offices were. A scent diffuser in the corner was pumping out something that smelled a touch like artifical vanilla, but still filled the room with a calm aroma. As per what Carter told me, no one else was here, and when we entered the area, an older woman immediately walked out from the office, having heard us. She immediately had a calming smile and presence, holding her hand out as she made her way to us.
“You must be the Carters.” She said, taking Carter’s hand first, then mine.
“Yes, we are. I’m John and this is my wife Genevieve.” Carter introduced, squeezing my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I added, giving her a mirroring smile.
“And you as well.” She looked at both of us. “Why don’t you come this way and we can get started?” She held out her hand, gesturing to the room in the back. I nodded and somewhat led Carter into the new space. Again, it was professional, everything I imagined a therapist office to be. But a couple of colorful pillows and personal photos made the space seem less like a boring environment and more like you were stepping into a friend’s living room. It was nice to be in an unfamiliar place for once. Like the cloud of County wasn’t judging us. We sat close to each other on the couch, Carter moving his hand to my knee, and my arm wrapping around his. I saw Elaine’s eyes quickly flicker over us, taking note of our demeanor. She gave a small smile. Based on the feel of the couch, the indents in the cushions, I wondered how many couples came in and immediately sat at opposite ends away from each other.
Elaine sat in a plush chair opposite us, crossing her legs and resting her hands on the arms of the chair instead of grabbing a notepad. “So, Genevieve, John told me a little bit about your situation on the phone when he booked this appointment. So why don’t we start with you telling me why you both are here?"
“Oh, okay.” I swallowed and slightly adjusted in my seat. “Well, our youngest, Brianna, is in the NICU right now. She was born prematurely after I had a placental abruption. And I think all the stress and trauma of that has finally caught up with us. I suggested that maybe it was finally time to talk to someone about it.”
“You think you should have been in therapy before this?”
I scoff and nodded. “A lot of stuff has happened in our relationship these last few years that probably warranted it.”
“I think......” Carter started, squeezing my knee. “We’ve just been surviving for a while. Or at least I have.” I squeezed his arm and kissed his shoulder.
Elaine nodded. “Why don’t you all tell me how your relationship started? That way I can get to know you both better as a couple.”
I nodded. “Well, we both met at County. We started at the same time.”
“Where do you work?”
“In the ER.” Carter picked up. “I’m a doctor and Evie’s an RN. We met my third year of med school. Evie was a brand new nurse and I was bumbling my way through the start of surgery.” He chuckled at the thought and I couldn’t help but join him, remembering how much of a puppy dog he was back then. How bright eyed and excited we both had been at the thought of beginning long deserved careers.
“We became friends and got close really fast.”
“Is that when you started dating?” Elaine asked, threading her fingers together.
We both chuckled again. “Uh..... no.” I said. “That took a little bit. I think after the fact, we both realized we had feelings for each other from the beginning, but just never knew how to act on them. Hell, our coworkers knew before we did. I think most of them even made bets on when we’d finally figure it out.” I chuckled. “So, there were other people for about the first five years of us knowing one another.”
“So what finally made you two start a relationship?” Carter and I both tensed, seemingly having the same memory. Elaine clocked it right away. “Whatever you want to say, it stays in this room. No judgement.”
Carter took in a deep breath. “I got hurt at work. Nothing serious, but Evie was helping me clean up and I guess the years of tension just kind of boiled over and........ and we had sex. At work.”
“In the x-ray room.” I added, pursing my lips together.
Elaine’s eyes went wide. “Wow. That is definitely one I have never heard before.” She paused a moment. “Unconventional, but adrenaline spiking, fear response. It makes sense. Not that I would advocate for it again.” She gave a small smirk. That made us relax again. I continued.
“I thought that that would be it, the thing that brought us together. But then I found out he was still seeing his girlfriend at the time and we had a little bit of a temporary falling out.” I paused and swallowed. “My dad cheated and left my mom when I was really young, so I felt horrible about the whole thing. That I was the thing I never wanted to be.”
“I knew she felt like that, and I still did it anyway.” Carter continued. “I’ve always felt bad about that, but I don’t regret it. I broke up with the woman and tried to fix it with Evie. Told her I wanted to be with her for real, wanted to try to have a relationship with her.”
“Is that why you don’t regret that night?” Elaine asked.
“Partially. It’s also the night we conceived our oldest daughter.”
“So, Genevieve, you got pregnant before you both were a couple?”
“Yes.” I confirmed. “You could say the beginning of our relationship moved at light speed. I got pregnant and we decided to give a relationship a try and almost immediately moved in.”
“So you feel like you rushed?”
“Sort of? By normal relationship standards, I guess. But we had also been really close friends for five years by that time. We already knew most everything about each other that you would in a solid relationship. Personal history, family baggage. I think the beginning of our relationship was allowed to rush in a sense, because we didn’t have to do all the introductory stuff. We could just focus on us as a couple.”
“What was the beginning like?”
“Honestly...... I personally think it was really good.” Carter hesitated to answer. “I’d loved this woman for a long time and I was finally able to express that. To show that. She loved me too, we were going to have a baby. It was what I wanted for us for a while. I guess I just didn’t expect it to all happen so fast. But I think it was good.” He paused, looking at me. “Or at least I hope it was.”
I bit my lip and barely bent my head. “Is that not how you felt Genevieve?” I looked up at Elaine’s words and turned to Carter, his eyes watching me, wondering why I didn’t feel the same.
“No, it is. It was really good. Which actually surprised me because of how insane it all started. That’s not why I reacted like that. I swear.” I directed that at Carter. “But it’s hard to think about our early relationship and not think about his parents.” Carter squeezed my knee.
“Do you mind elaborating on that?” Elaine asked.
“Carter’s family.........” I turned to him, not knowing what he wanted me to share.
“They’re rich.” He finished for me. “Very rich. And my life had been planned for me since my older brother died as a kid. I was supposed to go to a good business school, take over the family foundation, marry a socialite, and that would be it. Instead, I chose to become a doctor, to help people. I chose Evie and our family.”
“And I assume your parents were not happy about this?”
I scoffed and shook my head. “That’s an understatement. I spent the first couple years of our relationship worried that someone from his family was going to call me a gold digger every time I saw them.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“Like garbage. I knew it was going to be hard to fit into their world. But I was willing to try and they wrote me off before they even got to know me. Assumed because I was pregnant and we weren’t married that I was only after Carter for the money.”
“Is that still how they feel now?”
“No....... or at least I hope not. I think they finally realized I’m here for the long haul.”
“Evie is the best person I’ve ever had in my life.” Carter said firmly. “My Gamma was a close second, but Evie is the only one who has actually ever cared about me and not what I could do for them; what I could give to her. There were so many times she would have had every right to give up on me, to take Meghan and leave. But she never did.”
“Give up on you?” Elaine asked, probing the conversation to continue. Carter closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. This was the part I was worried about, the part I thought would definitely make him clam up and stop talking. “John?”
I squeezed his arm and Carter took a deep breath. “Two weeks after Meghan was born, Valentine’s Day, me and a med student were stabbed in the ER.” He paused. “Lucy. Her name was Lucy Knight.” He paused again, swallowing as I squeezed his knee, reassuring him that I was there. I think that was the first time he had said her name in a really long time. Maybe even since she died. “She...... she died and I lived. Got stabbed in the back twice. Kidney trauma. That time...... it was not good for us.”
“I would imagine not.” Elaine began, taking over for him. “Caring for a newborn is hard enough without recovering from such a traumatic event.”
“I started taking drugs.” Carter whispered, looking down at his lap. “I........ I was stealing drugs from the hospital. Whatever I could get my hands on to try and....... numb everything I guess. The pain in my back. The guilt of Lucy dying while I got to live. I-I knew what it would do to Evie if she found out......... And I don’t think I really cared.” He cleared his throat and blinked a few times.
“We don’t have to talk about this anymore.” I whispered, not wanting him to push himself on our first appointment, fearful he wouldn’t want to come back.
“We can move on for now if you want.” Elaine added.
“No. No, I might as well talk about it.” He cleared his throat again and sat up sharper. “I got caught and they had an intervention for me at work. They wanted me to go to rehab and I went, even though I didn’t really have a choice. It was either that or lose everything. I spent three months there away from Evie and Meghan, just trying to get through the program so I could get back to real life. Evie visited me once and I blamed her for everything. Yelled, was very angry. I think that’s when I realized just how badly I screwed up and I knew I had to at least try or I was going to lose everything. Evie held everything together for us. Raised our daughter, worked, lived with and helped my grandparents. It-It took us a while but we found our way back to each other, and I didn’t feel like I had to hold onto my family for dear life anymore.”
“Have you been sober this whole time?”
“I relapsed once. Took some pills at work once from a dead patient, but immediately threw them up. I’ve had alcohol very rarely since until a couple weeks ago. I...... I got drunk for the first time in a really long time.” He paused. “You know, I didn’t have nightmares when my grandfather died. Not when Mark and then my Gamma died. Hell, I didn’t even have horrible nightmares when Evie was attacked by a patient herself and had months of recovery ahead of her. But now..... I-I just can’t get the sight of her and her pregnant belly covered in blood out of my head. It's so vivid and real and....... and terrifying. I...... I think I tried to numb it again with the alcohol, like before, but it didn’t work. It just made me feel worse about myself. About everything. I felt like a failure for choosing to spend time getting drunk instead of going to be with my family.”
Elaine nodded before she turned to me. “Genevieve, is there anything else you would like to tell me about your relationship? Anything that has happened between you two?”
I gently rubbed Carter’s arm. “We tried for a while to have Brianna after we got married. We even thought we were going to have to go the medical route. Prepared for the idea of needing to do IUI or IVF. We didn’t know I was pregnant until I was in a coma from the attack. I-I still don’t remember what happened. Not really. All I know is a patient with a TBI got aggressive and got physical. I know...... I know it’s not the right way to think about this, but when I was in the hospital and after, Carter kind of repaid the favor of when I took care of him after his attack. He was by my side the whole time, took time off of work and everything. I..... I guess I just forgot after Brianna had to be born the way she did, that he wasn’t just scared of losing her that night, he was scared of losing me. And now, I think we’ve both just spent the last couple months trying to keep our heads above water, worried if we actually talked about everything, we both would drown like we should have a long time ago.”
Elaine inhaled deeply and shifted her posture. “Thank you both for telling me all of that. It gives me a good foundation for who you both are as a couple, which is the main reason we are here. But we will spend some time getting to know you both as individuals too. What I want to know now though is, how do you two communicate with each other? You both seem very good under most pressure, obviously. It’s the nature of your jobs. But how do you process it? How do you typically talk about problems or your relationship when you aren’t trying to just keep things together?”
“We talk.” I jumped in quickly. “We’ve always talked. We’re not avoiders, at least for the most part. We don’t make it a habit to shut each other out.”
“We don’t do the silent treatment.” Carter added. “We don’t normally do...... distance.”
“And what does that normally look like for you?”
“We debrief, I guess.” Carter shrugged.
“Debrief?”
“Like in the ER. We assess the damage, come up with a plan, and move forward.”
“And emotionally?”
“We don’t...... linger.” I said pressing my lips. “Not that we aren’t emotional with each other. We’re open with that. But typically, we only stay in our feelings for a little bit, and then we move on to the next. We’re intimate, not just sexually. We try to connect when we can. But the NICU...... the NICU feels different.”
“How?”
“It’s constant,” I said. “There’s no definitive end point. There’s not anything we can debrief on and fix. We’re just… just waiting on Brianna. Watching monitors. Counting ounces. Celebrating half-steps forward and then bracing for the next setback.” I swallowed. “Sometimes we pass each other in the parking lot like coworkers. Not like… us.” Carter’s fingers tightened slightly around my knee.
“And you all aren’t used to not being in control.” We both nodded. “This is important to realize. You both love each other. That’s very clear to me. But trauma, which both of you have experienced a lot of, it narrows things. Your nervous systems have been hard-wired to operate as if the next trauma is imminent. And it seems that maybe that has bled into your personal life.”
I nodded, feeling a tear run down my face.
“Today is not about fixing everything at once. It’s a process. Right now, we are creating the space where both of you are allowed to be affected by what’s happened to you. A safe, neutral space where you can actually process things.” Elaine turned to Carter. “What do you need from Evie right now?”
I could feel Carter hesitate, so I squeezed his arm again. “It’s okay. Tell me.”
Carter bit his lip and swallowed. “I need you to know that I want to get better. I want to be better not just for the girls, but for you. I don’t want to lose myself.” He paused. “I just don’t know how to do that sometimes.”
I nodded. “And Genevieve, what do you need from Carter right now?”
“I have had a one track mind lately. Just been spending all my time with Brianna. I need you to be honest with me if you don’t feel like you can do it yourself. If I can do more for you. I want to be the partner you need. I need you to tell me when you’re drowning. Not after.”
We spent the rest of the session going through the revised NICU schedule we had started to make. Elaine suggested we try and spend more time together now that Brianna was getting closer and closer to discharge. She suggested we sleep together more. Not in a sexual way, since I was still healing and neither of us were ready for that, but to make a serious effort to go to sleep whenever we could next to each other. We also talked about a weekly therapy schedule, at least for now while we were first working through everything.
“You are not choosing between everything. But it will require intention.”
By the time we were done, we were both wrung out. A couple of hours had passed and I was glad Carter didn’t have to go in today. But I also felt light, like a weight had been lifted now that we had finally said everything out loud. We thanked Elaine and promised to see her next week. The sun was shining a little brighter and the air was warm but not too warm by the time we walked outside and back to the Jeep. Once the doors were closed, we both let out a deep breath.
“We did it.” I whispered.
“We did.” Carter replied. He cupped my cheek. “I’m really proud of us.”
“Me too.” I smiled, before leaning in and kissing him. When we moved back, I bit my lip. “Do you want to go get lunch? Then we can go see Brianna.”
“I think that sounds like a great idea.”
For the first time in a long time, Carter wasn’t headed to work early because the nightmares made it impossible for him to sleep longer. No, he had actually slept pretty well that night, Evie wrapped in his arms even when Meghan came into their bedroom wanting to cuddle with her mom. He actually felt rested for once. The reason he decided to come in early was because he wanted to spend some time quality time alone with Brianna before the chaos of the holiday. Fourth of July meant that a lot of fun and unique traumas were pretty much guaranteed. He could use an hour of baby time before he dealt with cleaning up people’s stupidity for the day.
As he rode up into the ambulance bay on his bike, Luka was just stepping out of the ER, coffee in hand to keep him going for the last bit of his night shift. “What are you doing?” His friend asked as he dismounted his bike to lock it up.
“Wanted to get an early start to the day. Come check in on Bree before my shift starts. How’s the night shift going?”
“Ugly.” Luka groaned. “It’s been quiet for the last hour or so.”
“Well, that won’t last. Sunburns, blown-off fingers, potluck food poisoning. Nothing like the ER on the Fourth of July.”
“Sound like you’re looking forward to it.”
“Anytime you mix alcohol, gunpowder, and the great outdoors you’re in for a good time.”
“You seem better.” Luka said as Carter walked by, causing him to turn back around. “You been getting better sleep?”
“Uh, yeah.” He paused. He hadn’t expected to tell anyone about what happened yesterday, but Luka was a close friend. They'd been through a lot together. He would understand. “Uh, Evie and I started seeing a therapist.”
“Really?’
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s brand new. But..... I think it might do us some good. Do me some good at least.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you guys are working through everything.”
“Yeah. Me too.” The sound of sirens grew louder until the rig pulled into the bay. “So much for quiet.” Carter pointed out, shouldering his bag, before turning. “I’ll tell Brianna you said hi. I’ll see you at change over!”
When Carter got upstairs to the NICU, he followed the same pattern he did every time: washed his hands thoroughly and gowned up, even though he knew it would be gone soon when he held Brianna. Veronica greeted him as he walked towards the isolette, and he smiled when he saw that his baby girl was already wide awake.
“Hi sweetie.” He cooed and immediately stuck his hand inside. “How are you doing this morning?” Bree began to wiggle at the sound of his voice and started to whine a bit, knowing that he was supposed to pick her up now that he was here. “I know, I know. You have your father’s patience.” He carefully removed her from the isolette in a way that had become second nature after all this time and brought her to his chest. Brianna immediately grabbed a hold of his shirt with both her fists, and as he sat down, she started lifting her head.
“Look at how strong you are Bug.” He cooed again, drawing circles on her back. “Man, you should be out of here in no time. Sorry Mommy isn’t here right now. I wanted to let her and your sister sleep so I could have some Daddy/Brianna time all to myself.” He carefully nuzzled the top of her head. “We won’t get this time when you come home, because I know your sister is going to be obsessed with you and won’t let you out of her sight. We’ll just cuddle for a bit and then I’ll change your diaper and do all our morning routine stuff before I head down to work. How does that sound?”
As if she understood him, Brianna let out a tiny cry before her head went back down to his chest. Carter chuckled and kissed her again.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
When I woke up, it didn’t take long, even in my post wake up haze, to realize that while my side of the bed was quite full thanks to the four year old pressed into my aching chest, the other side was empty. Cold even. I looked around the room until my eyes adjusted to the dim light of early morning. The bathroom light wasn’t even on. Carter didn’t have to go in until later, right? I turned to look at the bedside clock. That’s when I spotted a note placed next to my awaiting and prepared pump and water bottle.
Headed in early to spend some time with Bree. Cleaned your pump for you and left some donuts downstairs for breakfast. They had Fourth of July colors so I couldn’t resist. I’ll see you later. Wish me luck. I have a feeling today’s gonna be crazy.
Love John
A smile spread across my face as I read the letter again, my heart truly happy for the first time in a while. “When is the ER never not busy on Fourth of July?” I mumbled to myself as I put it down. Running a soft hand over her head, I left Meghan asleep, carefully moving over to Carter’s side so I could prop myself up to pump and not wake her. We had moved to mainly nursing when I was in the NICU, but my supply had gotten so big that I still needed to pump routinely. It also was nice to give Carter the chance to occasionally feed her a bottle when she could handle it. The first time it happened, my heart melted at the sight. Carter had looked so happy. I wondered if he would get to feed her while he was there this morning.
The light whirl and hiss of the pump started to fill the room as I closed my eyes again. I didn’t fall back asleep; there was no way I could with this thing tugging on my sore breasts. I just kind of lived in the peace of the moment. My family was okay, I told myself. My husband and my baby were at the hospital, spending some bonding time together. My oldest was passed out next to me, probably dreaming of unicorns and princesses. And me, I was just enjoying the quiet, imagining just how good those donuts were going to be when we got downstairs.
Malik had been right when he said Carter was on fire today. After his hour with Brianna, he had come downstairs and jumped right into the day, doing everything from sutures to saving the new med students from Morris’ teaching. Maybe that old adage about those who can’t do, teach, wasn’t as true as he thought. Carter was just at least glad that Pratt was back. Even if he thought the younger doctor was back a little too soon, it was nice to have another competent person around, easily in the Fourth of July mess.
“Alright. Fall to outstretched arm, earache, belly pain and vomiting.” Pratt listed out, handing out charts to the new med students. “Go, go. Make me proud. First one to kill a patient buys me lunch.”
“I didn’t expect you back so soon.” Carter said, moving back to Pratt’s side from the board.
“A guy can only play so much Xbox.”
"How’s the head?”
“Hard as a rock.”
“Yeah? No headaches? No dizziness?” He listed off, checking on the computer for results.
“No, man. I’m cool. Beside I wouldn’t miss this for the world. July’s my favorite month. New interns, new med students. I know more than any of the newbies this time of year.”
“That’s not necessarily a good thing.” Carter scoffed. “Hey, uh, how’s Deb?”
“I think she’s good.”
Carter furrowed his brow. “Yeah? You talk to her?” But Pratt didn’t get a chance to answer.
“Carter! Pratt! Twenty-four-year-old male. Stabbing victim.” A paramedic yelled out as the two men rushed over.
“I ain’t no victim!” The man on the gurney yelled even though he was actively bleeding. “The other guy’s the victim. Do I look like a victim?”
“Settle down.” Pratt warned him, picking up the chart.
“You settle down! And let me the hell up.”
“Woah, woah, woah. You could be seriously injured here.” Carter said, pushing him back down.
“I’ve been shot six times before.”
“118/78. Pulse, 86. Mild tenderness.”
“I’m bulletproof!”
“94 on two liters.”
“I got the bulletproof monk.” Pratt told Carter.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Carter watched Pratt walk down the hall with the gurney, already making orders and looking like he had never left. He smiled softly before removing his gloves and heading back towards the desk. Luka met him there, looking exhausted and ready to get home. Carter couldn’t blame him. When he came back down from the NICU, he thought he saw Luka sitting at the small desk, sunglasses on his face, trying to hide the fact that he was sleeping.
“Last patient.” Luka groaned, handing over the chart. “Couldn’t get rid of him.”
“You’re leaving me Mr. Body Fluids?” Carter whined.
“Sorry.”
Carter rolled his eyes and took a quick look at the board before going through the charts to double check where they were at in treatment. “Dr. Carter, what’s the special of the day?” Ray asked, joining him at the desk as Luka finally left.
“58-year-old found in the street with a blood alcohol of 500 and a foot drop. Neurology won’t take him until Neurosurg clears him. And they won’t come until he sobers.”
“What about an MRI to rule out cord compression?” Ray asked, taking the chart from him.
“They’re gridlocked upstairs."
“What am I supposed to do?”
Carter sighed. “Babysit. Hang a banana bag. And I would hunt around for a mop and a bucket.” Carter could hear Frank chuckle as he walked away. God, he was never more excited to not be a resident then moments like this.
“Hi baby girl.”
I smiled at Brianna through the isolette and gently brushed my finger over her arm as I greeted her. Even with the high flow cannula on her face, she tried smiling, wiggling her body now that I was here. Almost like she was showing off. After fifty-nine days in the NICU, I never expected to be happy like this again, let alone watching my baby girl thrive. She seemed to be doing really good today. Maybe, if things continued as they were, she could be discharged before her original due date. Brianna wiggled again, like she was trying to get me to focus back on her, and I laughed.
“Yes sweetheart. I see you. You must be doing good today to be this awake.”
“She sure is.” Miriam laughed as she walked up next to me. “Veronica started turning do the isolette temperature last night.”
My eyes went wide as my head snapped to look at her. “What? R-Really?”
“Yep. And Baby Bree here has been handling it really well. We are going to continue slowly turning down the temperature throughout the day, and if she can handle it, we're going to try and see if she can be moved to an open crib.”
My throat got tight and I squeezed the side of the isolette. An open crib was a huge step for Brianna, one we had desperately been waiting for. It meant that she could keep herself regulated. It meant we would be one giant step closer to her getting out of the NICU. To finally being home as a complete family. I wiped a stray tear from my face.
“Does that mean we can’t do her bath and vitals today?”
“Oh no, we can still do that. And she’d defiantly going to be ready to nurse after we’re done. She took some ounces earlier with Dad, but you can tell she’d much rather have you.”
I smiled at that. “That sounds perfect. I’ve been missing her too.”
The two of us did our usual checks like we did every day per our routine. Brianna kept wiggling, causing the both of us to laugh. It wasn’t until I finally had her in my arms that she calmed down. The moment we were skin to skin, she let out a sweet, content little sigh and relaxed into my hold. She quickly found a good latch and began to nurse deeply, her hand open against my breast, just like Meghan used to do when she was this small.
“This is what you wanted, huh?” I softly asked her. “Just wanted your mommy?” Her big, sweet eyes looked up at me. “I bet you really liked getting to spend time with your daddy this morning. Just the two of you without me hovering.” Brianna let out a grunt, but continued to nurse. “That’s what I thought.” I chuckled again. “That’s okay. I like your dad too. We have our moments, but most of the time, he’s pretty great. He does a lot for us.”
I gently brushed her sweet, downy hair. It had slowly gotten thicker over the last couple of months, but it still held that baby sweetness and fuzz. “You can do this baby girl. I know you can. I can tell you want to go home. That you want to meet your big sister. We’ve just got to get through these last few hurdles to get there. But I know you can do it. Because you’re my daughter. You come from a long line of strong women and you’re even named after a very strong woman. A very strong Carter woman.”
Bending down, I carefully nuzzled the top of her head as she continued to nurse. “You’ve got this. We’re gonna be okay.”
Carter let out a deep sigh as he grabbed onto the edge of the admit desk. He didn’t want to tell Pratt he came back too early; he too knew that feeling of wanting to get back to work after a major injury. But based on how slow he was moving today, how out of it he still seemed, Carter knew it was only a matter of time before he sent Pratt home for his own good and the good of their patients. He took another deep breath, hands on the back of his neck, before opening his eyes and spotting Abby and Ray talking over in curtains. It looked like the interns were fighting. Taking a deep breath, he walked over. Duty calls.
“What happened to the drunk with the foot?” Carter asked as he walked toward them. He hadn’t realized Ray had actually taken care of things like Carter had asked him too.
“MRI.” Ray shrugged, looking smug.
“I thought they were booked?” Carter asked, picking up this new patient’s chart and scanning through it.
“I pulled a few strings.”
“You should pull a few more and get this guy one.” Abby quickly added.
“What’s his problem?”
“Nothing.” Ray sighed. “He collided with another cyclist. His neuro’s non-focal, responds to commands well.”
“He seems altered to me.” Abby suggested otherwise. Great. Now Carter was going to have to get in the middle.
“Did he get knocked out?”
“He just said he didn’t hit his head.”
“Carter!” He looked up, seeing Malik waving him over. Thank God, he thought as he put down the chart and walked over. Abby and Ray were capable enough of figuring this out themselves. He’d come check on them later.
“Forty-five-year-old, GSW to the head following a liquor store holdup.” The paramedic explained as he ran over.
“Is this the prep?” Carter hadn’t realized that Ray followed him over.
“No. He got away. This guy’s the hero.”
“Derek tried to help the store owner.” The distraught woman that came in with the patient told Carter as he began pulling on gloves.
“You the wife?”
“Girlfriend.”
“Okay. BP 100/60, tachy to 115.” Ray read from the chart.
“Abby you want to run this?” Carter called out, knowing Ray needed to go back to his cyclist patient. Maybe the time apart would do the interns some good. “Dr. Barnett, get that head CT just to be safe.” He called out as he, Abby, Malik, and the paramedics headed for the Trauma room.
After our nursing session, we did skin to skin for a little while before I laid Brianna back in the isolette. And then, it was a waiting game. Every hour Miriam came in and gradually turned down the temperature of the isolette. And every time Brianna tolerated the change, the more I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest through my throat. We even put one of the hospital hats on her just to give her a little extra something. She did have an apnea spell around noon, but thankfully that didn’t reset the clock on her transferring because she recovered very quickly.
I really wanted to go downstairs, find Carter and tell him what was happening. Wanted him to witness this, especially when they wheeled the crib over. But I knew the ER was probably chock full of patients. I might not be able to find my husband, let alone be able to pull him away for a few minutes. The decision to do this by myself still didn’t make it any less scary when Miriam came back over for a final time.
“You ready mom?” I nodded quickly. Miriam carefully adjusted Brianna’s high flow cannula and the couple of monitors she still wore. “Why don’t you do the honors?” She said, nodding her head towards Brianna.
Honestly, I think I was holding my breath as I carefully picked Brianna up from the isolette. My hands were shaking as I slowly lifted her, careful of everything attached to her, just like I always did. But instead of putting her on me, I transferred her over to the crib. The crib felt absolutely enormous, somehow bigger then the isolette. The thin mattress and the clear sides seemed like it was going to swallow up my poor little baby.
Brianna startled momentarily as her back hit the crib mattress. She made a small little whine that quickly quieted as she wiggled and rubbed her hand over her face. She looked exposed. Too out in the open after having something covering her for the majority of the time we’d been in the NICU. I adjusted her blanket and her little hat. When I finally stepped back, I realized that I had definitely been holding my breath. I was waiting for something to happen. But it didn’t. Her oxygen held. Her heartrate was steady on the monitors. She was holding.
Brianna looked like the baby I had originally pictured in my head when I thought about her.
Tears began to silently fall as my hands clenched the sides of the cribs as I watched her wiggle. She didn’t look distressed or sad. She actually looked happy. Like she knew she was free. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned, seeing Miriam with a smile on her face. “She’s doing the work now. We’ll monitor her temperature really closely. But if she holds as well as she has been, this will be a major step in going home.”
I nodded and turned back to Brianna. She let out a tiny, dramatic yawn. Her jaw widened before she smacked her lips and settled. I ran my finger over her soft cheek and smiled down at her.
I knew you could do it.
Could this day get any longer?
This shift already felt like he was moving at the speed of molasses; so many patients and it felt like the clock was frozen in place. And all he wanted to do was to go home and be with his wife and his daughter. Or go upstairs and spend more time with Bree like he had this morning. Ever since Bree’s NICU stay had started, all of this started to feel really small in comparison to his own family. It made him start to long for that feeling that he had when he went to Africa.
As he leaned his head against the cool soda machine, not bothering to pick up his soda out of the dispenser yet, he thought about what it would be like to go back. To work for something bigger than this. What it would be like to bring his family this time. Of course they would have to make sure Brianna wasn’t so little and that her health was okay. But the idea of taking his family there, or maybe just Evie, suddenly felt like a really good idea. He let out a sigh and bent to grab his soda from the machine when he noticed the medical student about to give nitro to a teen.
Pratt.
After stopping the new guy from making a horrible mistake, he had to track down Pratt and let him know what had almost just happened. He found the resident sitting in exam two, the lights partially off as he worked on a chart. “Comfortable?” Carter asked, storming into the room. “I just prevented one of your med students from giving nitroglycerin to a 17-year-old on your recommendation.”
“I didn’t tell him to do that.”
“You have to be specific with these kids.” And he almost flinched when Lucy’s face flashed through his head.
“Sorry.” Pratt quietly said and looked back to his chart.
Carter sighed and put his hands in his pockets, feeling the cold of the soda can that rested inside. “You all right?”
“Just a headache.”
“I thought you said you weren’t having those.”
“Only when I’m working here.”
Carter ground his teeth together. “Okay, go home.”
“Oh, come on.” Pratt scoffed. “Come on. No harm, no foul. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“You have been dragging your ass all day.”
“I’ve had time-consuming cases.”
“Maybe you came back too soon.” Carter replied, but a small part of him called himself a hypocrite. People could say the same thing about him after what happened with Evie and Brianna. After the attack. Maybe...... maybe he was trying to save Pratt from turning into him. “So go home. Get yourself in shape before you fix anybody else.”
“Look, you can’t afford to send me home.” Pratt argued. “I’m worth two other doctors and three interns.”
“Not today you’re not. Go home. I’ll find somebody else to cover the end of your shift.” He turned and walked away from Pratt. He reached for the unopened can in his pants pocket, but before he could pull it out, he was stopped again.
“Hey.” Abby started, walking up next to him. “The biker’s blood work came back. HIV-positive. No good for organ donation.”
“That’s too bad. Frank, can call Kovac and get him to come in and finish the rest of Pratt’s shift?”
“Sure. Make me the holiday hatchet man.” Frank grumbled his reply.
“Do you guys have any special plans for this evening?” Abby asked as Carter pulled out a pen to write on a chart.
“Uh..... I think Evie wants to order pizza. We got a couple sparklers for Meghan. And there’s the Cubs/White Sox game.”
“Oh okay.” She paused. “Because I was thinking about going to a meeting then getting something to eat. You’re welcome to join me.”
Carter smiled and shook his head. But before he could reply, they were interrupted by Ray. “Did you order a tox screen on my patient?”
“Which one?” Abby asked, fanning innocence.
“You know which one. Tunny.”
“The altered bike courier.” Abby told Carter when she noticed he was watching the two interns. Carter just looked away and pulled down the board like it was none of his business.
“You can’t order tests on my patients behind my back. Urinalysis was negative for opiates, benzos, PCP, cannabis, cocaine, amphetamines, you name it.”
“Okay.” Abby shrugged. “So now we know.”
“No. What we know is this is the second time you’ve been wrong about my patients today. And you know what? It’s the last. You treat your cases and I’ll treat mine.”
Carter raised his eyebrows and had to bite his lip as Ray walked away. Abby crossed her arms and turned back to him. “You believe this guy?”
“Hey..... if you have a problem with a Resident’s workup take it up with the Attending.”
“It’s easier just to fix it.” Carter gave her a look. “That’s what the nurses do.” She shrugged. “Your own wife has caught more mistakes than most.”
“You’re gonna have to work with this guy for the next four years.”
“Dr. Carter?”
He turned, seeing the biker’s girlfriend standing on the other side of the desk. He handed Abby his chart. “I suggest that you figure out a way of getting along with him.” He walked over the woman who had been joined by an older man with a cane.
“This is Douglas James. He’s a friend of Derek and me.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Douglas is waiting for a liver. And him and Derek have the same blood type.”
“Right.” Carter sighed. He put his hands in his pockets again. The can had now grown lukewarm. “I’m sorry. We screened Derek and we found that he is non-eligible as a donor.”
“Because of his HIV?”
“Yes.”
“I’m HIV-positive too.” The other man began. “I’ve been taking interferon for hepatitis C, but they’ve given me three months without a transplant.”
Carter stuttered. “Well, direct donations are not encouraged.”
“I’m HIV-positive. You really think anyone’s ever gonna give me a liver?”
When Dubenko, the new surgical attending, had turned him down for the transplant, Carter knew he should have just stopped right there. The stink bomb currently smelling up the ER seemed to be some kind of omen. But he knew he had to give it his all. The guy deserved to get the liver he needed if the organ was there, HIV-positive or not. It was still technically illegal, but wouldn’t be for long. Elizabeth turned him down at first. But after trying to appease to her empathy, he hit her with her own ego and her own current anger at Weaver, and she was a go. That gave Carter a rush he hadn’t had in a while.
After sending the guy up for surgery, he headed back to the desk. Abby had tried to convince him to join her at the meeting, but honestly, he felt okay. Maybe..... maybe Evie was right about this whole therapy thing. Maybe it actually would help. He was flipping through papers back at the desk when he heard a familiar voice.
“Hey.” Susan called out cheerfully. Carter turned and a huge smile spread across his face, seeing her and then the little boy in her arms.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, putting a gentle hand on Cosmo’s back.
“Oh, pediatrician visit.” Carter nodded. “Somebody was being checked for Pyloric stenosis.”
“Hey, Cosmo.” Carter cooed. “How’s he doing?”
“Oh, good. Just reflux. Oh, hi, Frank.” The older man smiled at her and the baby.
“So, wow, you look great.”
“Oh, thanks. How’s it going?” She walked eagerly over to the board.
“Twelve new med students. How do you think?”
“How’s Evie? And Brianna?”
“Evie’s good. Feeling better, moving around better. Brianna’s down to high flow oxygen now.”
“That’s great!” She paused and her eyes darted around the ER. “Is Chuny or Haleh around?”
“Yeah. Chuny’s around. Why? You need a nurse?”
“Well, I just need somebody to watch him before my bladder bursts.”
Carter scoffed. “I could do it.”
“Are you sure? Because he can be really cranky?”
“Susan, you forget, I’ve been doing this parenting thing longer than you.” He chuckled, holding out his hands for the baby.
“Okay. Well, you’ll need this because he spits up.” Susan explained, handing over Cosmo and then draping a burp cloth over Carter’s shoulder. “That’s what he does basically: spit, poop, eat, sleep, repeat.”
“I think all babies do that.” Carter smiled, adjusting Cosmo in his grip. He wasn’t used to holding a baby so big anymore. Brianna felt absolutely miniscule compared to Cosmo.
“Well, it’s just like his daddy.” Susan teased.
“How is Chuck taking to fatherhood?”
“You mean motherhood? I swear the guy’s more maternal than I am.” She handed over the diaper bag too. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.” Susan added before hustling toward the bathroom.
“Hey buddy.” Carter cooed, bouncing Cosmo slightly as the boy held himself up pretty well against Carter’s shoulder. “You’re a pretty chill baby.” He chuckled. “You know, this is probably the closest I’ll ever get to having a baby boy. Seems like all I can make are girls. But that’s okay. I can just borrow you when your mom needs a break.” He turned and leaned up against the counter. “You were supposed to be older than my daughter, but I guess she wanted to beat you too it. But don’t be getting any ideas. Just because you guys will be in the same grade, doesn’t mean you can hang around with her. And no funny business.” He joked. “I know where you live.”
“You ready to see the fireworks baby?”
“Yeah!”
I chuckled as Meghan ran a little ahead of me. “Slow down kid. Mommy is tired and we need to be careful up here.” Meghan stopped and sighed, already a little teenager at 4 years old. I laughed again and grabbed her hand as I walked up to her. But as we rounded the corner, I stopped quickly, seeing a man I didn’t recognize sitting in a lawn chair. And for some reason, he had a guitar. “Uh..... hi.” I said, confused, grabbing Meghan’s shoulders and pulling her back to me as I eyed the man. “Who are you?”
“Ray Barnett.” He said without missing a beat or looking up for his guitar. “I work down in the ER.”
“Really?” I scoffed. “You a new intern?”
“Yeah. What gave it away?” He smirked, looking up at me this time.
“Because I know everyone down in that ER except for the new interns and med students. I’m an RN. Genevie Carter, but everyone calls me Evie. This is my daughter Meghan.”
“So you’re the famous Evie everyone’s been whispering about?” He looked me up and down before biting his lip. “Well, they did get at least one thing right.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“You are defiantly way out of your husband’s league.”
I let out a chuckle and shook my head. Normally I wouldn’t care for such an inappropriate comment from someone who was technically a colleague. But I had spent the last 59 days going back and forth between home and the NICU, not really caring what I looked like. Most days I forgot when I last showered, had breastmilk all over me, or circles under my eyes. Honestly, a compliment from a stranger felt good right now.
“So.... Meghan, right?” Ray asked, looking at my daughter.
“Yep!” She responded, smiling big.
“Want a hotdog?”
She quickly turned to look up at me. “Please Mommy? I’m starving.”
“Well we can’t have that.” Ray groaned. “I mean, what’s the Fourth of July without a hotdog?”
“Please.” Meghan pouted, bouncing up and down a little.
I looked from her to Ray. He seemed pretty harmless. Carter hadn’t mentioned him yet, either because he hadn’t gotten a read on him yet or because he was too busy to care. “Okay. Why not?” I sighed.
“Yay!” Meghan cheered and ran over to Ray. He sat down the guitar for a moment and helped her get a hotdog together. Even had all the needed condiments. Man, did this guy live here or something?
“Care for one?” He asked, pushing one of the dogs closer to me with his cooking utensil.
“No thanks. But I appreciate you sharing with my daughter.”
“Hey, no problem. She’s a cute kid. Takes after you.”
“Yeah. Yeah she does.”
“What about your baby?” My head snapped up and his lips pursued together. “Sorry. I heard about what happened. I guess that’s why you haven’t been working, huh?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve been spending most of my days up in the NICU with Brianna. That’s.... That’s her name. She looks a lot more like Carter.”
“She doing alright?”
“She’s getting there.” I nodded, walking over to the other lawn chair. “She was moved to an open crib today, which is a good sign.”
“Congratulations. The kid has good timing with the holiday.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess she wanted to celebrate with the fireworks.” Ray started fiddling with his guitar, playing different things while Meghan captively watched, her chewing slowing and her hot dog now second rate to the show she was getting. “Are you in a band?”
“Uh, yeah. At least we’re trying to be.”
“You’re good.” I paused. “Or at least by four year old standards. I’ve never seen her so entranced.”
“Power of live music. Gets ya every time.” He held up his guitar to Meghan. “Meg, you wanna try?”
“Yeah!” Meghan quickly passed me her forgotten hot dog and went up to Ray, grabbing the neck of the guitar as he carefully showed her what to do. It made me chuckle again. Meghan had a thing for trusting the “bad boy” type. Hell, she’d considered Malucci Uncle Dave while he’d been here. Maybe she saw the good in them. I just really hoped it wouldn’t transfer to her dating life. God help us if she brought one of them home to meet Carter.
“What are you doing?”
Speak of the devil. I turned and there was my husband, his eyes moving from me to Meghan and Ray. When she caught sight of her dad, Meghan’s eyes went wide and she left Ray, running straight for him. “Daddy!” She yelled and ran right into his arms, Carter hoisting her into the air. “We came to watch the fireworks.” She enthusiastically told him.
“Really? No invite for me?”
“I was about to text you, I swear.” I said in defense. “We just got a little sidetracked with hotdogs and music.” I motioned to Ray.
“Yeah, about that...... now, what are you doing?”
“Just chilling.” Ray shrugged. “Showing your daughter how to play.”
Carter took in the lawn chairs and the grill and the cooler. “Looks like you’re all moved in up here.”
“Yeah. Well, the rent’s right. And, hey, you can’t beat the view.”
“Well, while you’ve been up here on your little cookout, your patient Mr. Henderson has been circling the drain.” He sat Meghan down and she ran to me, taking back the half-eaten hot dog. “He needs dopamine and a trip to the ICU.”
“He’s a DNR.” Ray responded. “His daughter’s bringing the paperwork from Milwaukee.”
Carter genuinely looked like he was stunned. “Oh.” He nodded. Meghan walked over and offered him her hot dog, which he grabbed and took a dramatic bite from, causing her to laugh and shriek.
“That’s mine!” She laughed loudly.
“Don’t worry kiddo, I’ve got plenty to go around.” Ray told her. He looked from the cooler to Carter. “Want a beer?”
Carter swallowed slowly and shook his head. “No. Thank you.” He mumbled. He handed the food back to Meghan and kissed the top of her head, his eyes quickly catching mine as I gave him a small smile. He walked over to me and I lifted my head up so he could kiss me. “How’s Bree doing?” He asked, as he moved away from my lips.
“Good.” I said and smiled. “Meghan, you want to tell your Dad our news about sissy?”
“She’s in a crib!” Meghan said excitedly. “Mommy showed me a picture and everything!”
“Really?” Carter asked, a smile growing on his face. I nodded and pulled out my phone, going quickly to the photo I had taken and showing him. He took my phone and just stared at the picture for a minute. “This is great.” He mumbled before kissing the top of my head.
“They said she’s making a lot of good progress.” I bit my lip before I looked up at him and smiled. “Hopefully it won’t be long before we’re talking about starting going home protocol.”
“That’s why we came to watch fireworks.” Meghan explained, shoving the rest of the hot dog in her mouth. “To celebrate.” She said with her mouth full.
“Well, that is definitely something to celebrate.” Carter chuckled. He turned to me. “She look okay?” He quietly asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded, my throat getting a little tight. “I know this sounds kind of bad, but...... she-she actually looks and feels like a really baby now.” Carter nodded and leaned in, kissing the top of my head and hugging me tightly. We stood like that for a while until he hugged me again.
“You aren’t really living in the hospital, are you?” Carter asking, looking over at Ray.
“Why? Would that be a problem?” He asked, sounding almost nervous.
“Might be a problem for Dr. Weaver.”
“Yeah, she has the place sprayed for interns every quarter.” I added, chuckling.
That’s when a loud boom sounded from off in the distance.
“Mommy look!” Meghan shouted and pointed, just as color began to explode in the sky. Carter grabbed her and held her up, our little girl snuggling her head into his neck as she watched the sky, fully enraptured. Carter snaked his hand around my back as brought me close it him as the fireworks picked up steam, coming faster than before. He gently kissed the top of my head. It would have been an absolute perfect moment if we just had Brianna with us.
“Happy Fourth of July.” Ray called from behind us as he began plucking the notes of the Star Spangled Banner.
“Yeah, you too.” Carter mumbled back.
“We’re going to be okay.” I whispered so only my husband could here. He responded with a nod. And for the first time in a very long time, I actually meant it. Truly believed that everything would start to actually be okay.
Summary: Robby’s always kept his five daughters close to his chest, but a serious accident sends them all out of orbit. An exploration of family dynamics, forgiveness, gratitude, and connection.
Tags/Notes: kidfic, aged down robby (early 40s), wife!mom!reader, girl dad robby, angst/whump, hurt/comfort, siblings fighting and making up
Content: descriptions of various injuries, car accident, also a couple rated M scenes
A/N: after the absolute numbers my last fic did (thank you!!) i know this one’s gonna flop but I LOVE HER she is very beautiful TO ME. and i’m proud of myself for finishing a wip i started literally months ago regardless. and also i forgot langdons son is called tanner bc im dumb <3
Word Count: 8.7k
Part One: I’m Sorry
You wake up to the feeling of your husband kissing your shoulder and neck softly, no urgency or pressure on his lips. He’s whispering sweet nothings into your skin – I love you, you’re beautiful, you’re everything to me – and the soft scratch of his overgrown beard tickles your skin. He hasn’t been trying to wake you, but you don’t mind. It’s perfect compared to the alarm that’s going to blare within the next hour, based on the sunrise beginning to threaten the winter horizon.
“Mmm. Morning, baby.” You stretch your arms above your head and Robby responds by wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you tight against his body. Realizing you’ve actually gotten a full night’s sleep, you lace your voice with gratitude, roll your ass against his morning wood, and purr, “You did the overnight all by yourself? That’s hot.”
“Ain’t my first rodeo,” he teases against your ear. Robby tugs down your sleep shorts and massages his way over your hips and ass, his hand greedy but still lazy and sweet. He slips his fingers between your thighs, toying with your pubic hair, and murmurs, “I know there’s no better way to earn morning sex than to take care of the baby while you get your beauty sleep.”
“You’re a very smart man, Dr. Robinavitch,” you praise as you shift your hips back to give him better access. Your eyes flutter closed as he slowly circles your clit, knowing just how to touch you after so long together. It’s not long before your body warms up and you let out a breathy moan, keeping your volume low.
Robby feels your pussy getting slick and coos, “Fuck, I’ve missed this pussy so goddamn much.”
“Since when?” You roll your eyes even as you encourage his every touch. “We had sex before bed.”
He kisses the curve of your shoulder and murmurs as he pushes his first two fingers slowly inside of you, “I can’t miss my favorite girl overnight? She’s so wet for me. Clearly missed me, too.”
You start to melt as he curls his fingers against your walls, methodical and steady. “Can’t argue with you there.”
Then the sound of your two older daughters hissing at each other down the hall interrupts your happy floaty thoughts.
You groan in defeat, “Why are they up so early?”
“It’s already six,” Robby whispers back, not wanting to alert the girls that the two of you are awake lest they try to involve you in their fight. He reluctantly removes his fingers from your pussy, licks them clean, and tentatively begins, “Should we go and…?”
“It doesn’t sound too bad yet,” you reply, flipping over to snuggle into his chest, where he immediately wraps you up in a familiar embrace. “I wanna be with you a few more minutes before your double.”
He kisses the top of your head and sighs contentedly, “You’re such a sap.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
You manage to steal away three full, blissful minutes of cuddling with your husband before the teenage tornado in the hall picks up to lethal speed, threatening all structures in close proximity. Two high-pitched screeches pierce the relative quiet in tandem, both wielding the one word they think can rain terror on their opponent: “Mom!”
You lean your head back and sigh heavily, “Do I have to go out there?”
“On the plus side, we made it to-” Robby checks the alarm clock “-6:07 before the start of today’s war.”
“Better than last week.” Groggily sitting up and grabbing your discarded pajamas off the floor while the girls’ argument grows in volume, you gripe, “Do you think it’s too late to put them up for adoption?”
Robby sighs and laughs as he tugs on his sweats. “I’m sure there are orphanages that take 16-year-olds somewhere. Might even give us a tax benefit or something if we throw in the 14-year-old, too.”
“But then who would we embarrass in public? Each other?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“Me neither. I’ll take the baby, you take the teens?”
Faux-exasperated, he pouts, “I have to take the teens just because you have the breastmilk?”
You pat his chest affectionately and give him a quick kiss, perching on your tiptoes. “That’s just how the cookie crumbles, daddy. We can ask our lactation consultant about switching roles if you want; you’d be amazed how far science has come.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Robby heads through the bedroom doors in his sweats and you follow just behind him, ducking into the nursery instead of down the hall to the teens’ shared bathroom where the first front of WWIII is playing out.
Seeing their dad instead of you, the girls shut their mouths and look at their feet.
Robby speaks low and gently, “I’m not gonna suggest peace, but can we at least keep it down out here when we fight? Your little sisters don’t have to be up for school for another hour and your mom pushed out a human person twelve weeks ago, so she should get to sleep in, but now the baby’s up because of the yelling.” They both mutter something close to an apology to him, still glaring at each other. Arms crossed over his chest, Robby puts on his best Serious Doctor Robinavitch face and asks, “So what’s going on here?”
Tanner clenches her jaw and gestures dramatically to Maggie. “Kind of obvious, isn’t it?”
He looks at her flatly. “Humor me.”
“Her clothes.”
Robby inspects them carefully and realizes both teenagers are wearing jeans, a white tee, and a black silky camisole layered over it. He remembers you wearing similar outfits back in the naughty aughties. He’s not crazy about the inch of midriff exposed on Tanner, but you’ve put in a lot of time convincing him that it’s developmentally appropriate clothing and it’s not her fault she had to inherit his height, so he bites his tongue on that front. Slowly, after a minute of consideration, he offers, “You…match.”
“Exactly!” Tanner groans, “She saw me in this and immediately put on that.”
“And?”
“Dad, seriously? I know you’re fashion blind, but I can’t go to school wearing the exact same thing as my freshman baby sister.”
Robby sighs, “So go change.”
Tanner scoffs again; Robby’s wondering when her sounds of exasperation started sounding so much like his. “Why should I change? She’s the one who copied me in the first place.”
“How about you both change?”
Maggie crosses her arms over her chest and bites back, “I’m not changing. I like this outfit. I look better in it than you anyway.”
Before Tanner can freak out at that one, Robby raises his voice and both his sands slights. “Woah, there, let’s not launch the nukes at this hour.”
You emerge from the nursery with Daisy sleeping against your chest, her mouth open and her expression totally content. Both the teens love the baby, so they soften slightly. Relief washes over Robby; this isn’t really his area.
Unable to resist and seeing a clear path to resolution, you smile at your eldest daughters and say, “You two look adorable. I remember when we used to put you in matching outfits all the time. Aw, maybe we should pick something like that out for Daisy and take pictures before school!”
Maggie shrieks defiantly, shoves into her bedroom, and slams the door.
Tanner crosses her arms over her chest, glares, shakes her head, and then ducks back into the bathroom.
Robby loops his arm around your lower back, plants a kiss on the top of Daisy’s head, and chuckles, “That was a diabolical move, hon.”
“They’ll both change,” you reason with a shrug.
The closest bedroom to you creaks open slowly, a tiny figure emerging from the dark that’s interrupted only by her nightlight. Rubbing sleep from her eyes as she clutches her tattered baby blanket, seven-year-old Susanna pushes open her door and asks, soft and sleepy, “Why are they mad today?”
Robby sighs and tells her, “They’re teenagers. They’re made of being mad.”
She nods her head and reaches up for her dad’s arms. Robby’s getting too old for it, but he still pulls her up onto his hip. She leans on his shoulder and mutters, “I’m never gonna be a teenager.”
Robby kisses the top of her head. “Good plan, mouse.”
You give him a look and then tell Susanna, “Yeah, you will be. You’ll fight with Evie over stupid stuff the same way Maggie and Tanner fight, but then you’ll hug and make up and be best friends again by the end of the day because we’re family. And what does that mean to us?”
She yawns and mumbles, “Hope-oh-no-no.”
Robby laughs but smiles tenderly, correcting, “Ho’oponopono. What’s that mean, princess?”
She snuggles into his chest, props her thumb in her mouth (a habit you’ve been unsuccessfully trying to get her to kick for the better part of five years), and mutters around it, “I’m sowwy. I wove you.”
After another yawn, her voice drifts off into nothing and her breathing gets heavy again. Robby’s always had a magical ability to get anyone to fall asleep in his arms. He takes a deep breath of her feathery dark hair, cherishing the few remaining moments he’ll have of picking her up, and then takes her back into her bedroom, tucking her in for another hour of sleep.
Tanner emerges from the bathroom with her hair sleekly parted, sharp eyeliner and glossy lip applied. She’s always been much cooler and more stylish than you ever were at her age; Robby worries about her becoming conceited, but you see the artistry and skill behind her interest in fashion and makeup. As she stuffs her backpack right in the entryway to her bedroom, you walk up behind her and muse, “Maggie just thinks you look cool, T.”
“Because I do,” she huffs back. “But that doesn’t mean she can copy me; she should grow her own personality.”
“She’s trying to. Right now, she’s looking around at everyone else trying on little pieces of their personalities to see what fits. Remember when you were her age and you wanted to wear my perfume and my shoes all the time?”
“Well, yeah, I thought you were the prettiest woman in the world.”
You narrow your eyes teasingly. “Thought?”
Tanner snorts. “I think you’re the prettiest woman in the world, mom, and I wanted to be like you.”
“So what do you think that means about your sister copying you?”
Tanner purses her lips rolls her eyes — but then she crosses the call, knocks on Maggie’s door, and calls gently, “Hey, Mags, I’m sorry, alright? You looked really cute. You want me to help you pick out something to wear? You can borrow one of my shirts.”
After a minute of shuffling around, Maggie reappears with shiny eyes and red cheeks. Swallowing hard as she pretends to still be mad, she offers, “Fine.”
An hour later, with the older girls ready to go out the door and the younger two just waking up, you’re a whirlwind. You set the table for the whole family, make lunches, and half-supervise Susanna and Evie’s morning routine. They’re generally speaking old enough now to pick out their own clothes, but you still check in to make sure they don’t grab anything that would lead to a call from a teacher. Robby has the baby strapped to his chest, looking far too hunky in his black scrubs as he scrambles eggs for seven, while you make sure all the girls have what they need for the day in their backpacks. It’s routine now, practiced, but you’re still methodical about each step.
As the girls pile into the kitchen, Robby plates up eggs and hasbrowns and fruit for each of them, handing over your plate first. One thing he’s always insisted on is eating breakfast as a family since it’s the only time of day you’re all reliably at home. Once everyone’s sitting down and relatively quiet, you give the day’s marching orders: “Dad’s working a double, so I’m on chauffeur duty tonight. Tanner has yearbook club after school, so Maggie, you’ll have to find some way to entertain yourself before I can pick you up after.”
Maggie grumbles some sort of annoyed approval; they all know the drill when Robby has long, unavoidable shifts.
You go on, “Evie’s school has a half day today, so-”
“What?!” Susanna’s mouth falls open from the injustice of it all. She’s adorable and cute when she’s all sleepy, but once she’s had a hit of orange juice, her personality is the size of a semi truck. “How is that fair? I have to go to school all day and then still go to my soccer game? That’s bullshit!”
Robby chokes on his juice, trying not to laugh. “I told you to stop saying that, kiddo.”
“Uncle Jack says it all the time!”
“Uncle Jack is a grown-up.”
“Uncle Jack says that-”
You clear you throat and say, “Uncle Jack isn’t your father. You’ll get in trouble at school if you talk like that, and if you get in trouble you can’t do soccer.”
She pouts but nods. You haven’t yet explained to her that Evie goes to a different school because she’d been bullied at the public school for being autistic. It’s not an easy thing to explain to a bubbly, protective seven-year-old who thinks her nine-year-old sister is the coolest person alive because she can name every type of bug native to Pennsylvania.
You take a deep breath and continue with morning announcements, “Like she said, Susanna has a soccer game tonight and we will all be going, so we’re-”
Tanner scoffs and protests, “I have plans with Luke and-”
“And you should’ve checked the family calendar before you decided on that,” you interrupt, pointing to the whiteboard covered in sticky notes that rules everyone’s lives. “We’re all going to your photography showcase this weekend, so you’re going to Susanna’s soccer game. We show up for each other here. I’m even gonna take everyone to dinner beforehand, so it’s not the end of the world.”
Mischief flickers in Tanner’s eyes. A bargaining chip. She asks, “If I have to flake on my friends, can I at least drive us to the game?”
You glance over at Robby; he’s the one who’s always hesitant to let her log practice hours now that she has her permit. He gives a reluctant, tight-lipped grimace with his nod. “Sure, it’s not far.”
“Hell yeah.”
Robby narrows his eyes. “Tanner.”
“Heck yeah,” she amends with a cheeky smile.
Susanna gives her oldest sister a punch on the arm and a gap-toothed smile. “I’ll even score a goal for you.”
Maggie snickers, “Your team’s actually gonna score a goal for once?”
Susanna’s next punch to her other sister’s arm is much less friendly. She furrows her brows, looking way too much like Robby, and screams, “That’s such bullshit!”
You pinch the bridge of your nose as Daisy starts to squirm against Robby’s chest. He just looks at you and smiles softly while they start arguing back and forth. Next to you, Evie tugs on your tee’s sleeve and asks quietly, “Can I take my breakfast and go watch Bluey?”
Knowing she just needs some peace and quiet, you brush some butter from her cheek and sigh gently, “Yeah, sweetheart, go ahead.”
The other three don’t even notice her making a silent escape to the living room, too wrapped up in complaining at one another. It’s amazing how Susanna can match wits and volume with the girls who are twice her age. It only ends when Robby’s watch beeps. He starts collecting empty plates as he announces, “Alright, Team High School, get your butts in the Audi. I won’t be participating in any arguments about who gets shotgun. You have two minutes before I drive to the hospital without you.”
Tanner and Maggie both launch out of their chairs and toward the door, already definitely arguing about who gets the heated seat, which comes with control of the radio. The ability to turn off Robby’s favorite station that mainly plays Rush and Eagles is a huge privilege.
As their voices receded into the garage, Robby places the dishes in the washer and then turns to you. He touches the top of Susanna’s head and offers, “Wanna hold your sister for a minute, Suz?”
Susanna wrinkles her nose. “So you can kiss Mommy?”
Robby raises up his hands like he’s been caught. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, buy only because she’s being cute right now.”
“Same rules I follow,” you chuckle while Robby relocates Daisy from his chest to her big sister’s arms. He’s careful to remind Susanna how to support her head and neck, always protective and anxious as a dad even when they’re sitting perfectly still. When he stands up straight, you lean up on your toes and link your arms behind the back of his neck. “My turn?”
“Your turn,” he laughs, bending down to kiss you fondly. “Love you. Be safe today.”
“Yeah, sure,” you reply with an eye roll, “I’ll be safe on the couch with my baby while you deal with gunshot wounds and scalpels for twelve hours straight.” You cut off his response with another kiss and then poke him sternly in the chest. “Eat a full lunch and a full dinner. Snacks every other hour. Actually take bathroom breaks and your fifteens.”
He sighs at your sweetness, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know, I know, gotta take care of myself so I can take care of everyone else.”
“That’s right. See you tomorrow, Dr. Robby.”
Part Two: Please Forgive Me
Jack Abbot shoves into the Pitt an hour before he’s scheduled with panicky eyes that expertly scan the entire area. He jogs up to the nurse’s station where Dana’s about to question him when he demands, “Is Robby here? Did he leave early or something?”
Dana touches his forearm and searches his face. “Dr. Abbot, are you alright?”
Jack rambles out, still looking over her shoulders in case his best friend walks by, “I couldn’t sleep and I had the scanner on and I heard about a multi-vehicle with a light blue Lexus TX.”
“Yeah, EMS called it in. Sounds like it’s gonna be gnarly. Multiple casualties in the field. A handful of ambulances are a couple minutes out, but we’re fully staffed and- What? What’s that face about? What’s going on?”
“That’s just- that’s what Robby drives.” Jack lets out a deep breath as he sees Robby’s lumbering form cresting around a corner, snapping off exam gloves and beelining for the closest vending machine. “Just a coincidence, I guess.”
Dana snorts as she goes back to charting. “Robby drives a Lexus?”
“Yeah, and I thought- I was worried that- You know how I get.” He shakes his head dismissively and Robby walks toward him with a curious look in his eyes. Jack pulls him into an unexpected hug, clapping him on the back and muttering, “Jesus, brother. Anxiety had me thinking you got in a car crash; sorry about the hug.”
“I’ll never say no to a free Jack Abbot hug,” Robby jokes. Pulling back, he offers Jack a cup of coffee and presses, “I heard there’s a crash coming in; why’d you think I’d be out driving when you know I’m scheduled today?”
Jack shrugs, takes the cup, and tells him, “Crash has a light blue TX in it; I know yours is a custom wrap, so I figured the odds there’s more than one here are-”
Deathly quiet, Robby interrupts, “I didn’t drive the TX today; I took the pickup. Tanner has the Lexus. Tanner has the Lexus.” As that settles hard on Jack’s shoulders, Robby grips him by the arms, fingers digging in, and asks, “Did they say the plate on the scanner?”
Jack’s stomach turns as he whispers back, “JKA-”
The blood drains from Robby’s face as he turns around, jogging out of earshot before Abbot can even finish. Dana looks curiously at Jack and clarifies, “Someone’s borrowing Robby’s car and crashed it? Who’s Tanner?”
“Tanner’s his oldest daughter,” Jack explains, barely able to move himself. His first goddaughter, who he helped deliver in the middle of a snowstorm during med school. “Robby’s wife always- She makes all of them go to Susanna’s soccer games and sometimes they let Tanner drive. I should- I should go out there and get ready. He’ll want me to take care of them if he can’t.”
Dana’s mind reels as two of her senior attendings run off.
Robby has always been incredibly private. Says it makes it easier for him to be the boss if nobody knows what’s going on at home or in his head. But, like everyone else at the hospital, she’d assumed he was a single hermit from the…everything about him. No wedding ring, no leaving early for parent-teacher conferences, nothing to make anyone believe he has a very, very full life at home. It’s surprisingly easy to keep things incredibly vague in an environment full of chaos and constant teaching, brushing off questions and never revealing anything. He wasn’t legally required to explain that his vacation time is for anniversaries, that his sabbaticals are paternity leave, that his strict adherence to leaving on time is to make it home for family dinners and helping the girls with math homework. So he didn’t. The one time he’d made a comment about kids – saying Jake was the son he never had – it made everyone think he didn’t have a family instead of the reality that, in fact, he was just drowning in daughters.
The transponder crackles again on her deck, repeating the message for the entire ED to prepare.
Multiple casualties in the field. Ambulances en route.
Dana yanks Shen to the nurse’s station as he’s strolling by, sipping his third coffee of the night. “John, you’re going to have to run point tonight, okay?”
“Is Robby-”
“His wife and daughters were in the crash, apparently. Don’t know if he’ll be working.” She takes a long breath and scans the shift board, mentally filling in gaps and making decisions. “We’re going to have to keep our shit together no matter what.”
Robby’s been in the ambulance bay with Jack for a count of 78 when the first two ambulances wail to a stop at the far end of the concrete, leaving plenty of room for the coming onslaught. He tries to process the scene in front of him. His brain seems to have shifted out of doctor mode. None of it makes sense. The EMTs are moving fast, too fast, for him to follow. The sirens and noises take over his mind. His heart slams over and over and it’s louder than anything else.
Seeing her dad before she sees him, Tanner launches out of the first ambulance. As the EMT tries and fails to grab her, she sprints toward the Pitt’s doors and tumbles into Robby’s arms, practically knocking the wind out of him with the force of her body. She's already babbling as he blinks hard to recognize her presence, “I’m so sorry, dad, I- I don’t know what happened and- and now the car is totally wrecked. I swear I used my blinker and checked my blind spot and-”
“Honey, hey, it’s alright.” He kisses the top of her head over and over, clutching her hair like he’s waiting for her to slip through his fingers. She’s the first thing that’s felt real since he heard about the incoming crash. Unable to release her, he assures, “None of that matters right now. We’ve got insurance; it’s just a hunk of metal. Now where are your sisters? Where’s your mom?”
She collapses into tears again and Robby holds her tight, heart slamming against his ribs as he scans the incoming ambulances while they stop and unload. The EMT gives Robby a pointed look and he nods, pulling back from Tanner and meeting her eyes. “You need to go back to the ambulance so they can check you out some more and decide what the hospital needs to do, okay?”
“What? No!” She clutches Robby’s sleeve in a stubborn hand and says, “I’m fine; I need to help you find everyone and make sure they’re okay.”
Robby’s stomach drops to his feet when she confirms what he’d feared; the accident had been on the way back from Susanna’s soccer game, all the Robinavitch girls in the stands cheering her on.
Which means you were in the car.
You were all in the car.
His whole world in that $90,000 pile of crumpled metal he’d bought for you because it was the safest SUV on the market last year.
Robby takes one slow, deep breath. It’s time for him to be brave for his girls, no matter how impossible that feels. He cups Tanner’s cheek and insists again, “Sweetheart, you need to go with the EMT now. So many invisible things can happen during accidents and- and I need to know you’re safe. I need to know where you are. Everyone else is going to be coming right here, okay? You don’t have to look for them; you just have to listen to the doctors and do what they say.” He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and urges, “Please, T. I promise I’ll come find you as soon as I know anything. I love you.”
Tanner nods slowly and sniffles back her unending tears. “I love you, too, Dad.”
She hasn’t said that in a long time – too ‘grown up’ and easily embarrassed – and Robby’s heart splinters even more. His brave girl, his first baby, who’s always tackled the world head-on, is scared and small and searching for his strength. He gives her one more hug before sending her away while another set of ambulances arrives.
Then pieces of his world start to roll by on gurneys. Everything moves in slow motion while Robby stands there in the bay, useless, not a doctor right now. Evie goes by first, her eyes open and frantic but her head held down with a strap across her bloody forehead. Suspected concussion. She makes eye contact with Robby but doesn’t speak, rolled by too fast for either of them to process. Then it’s three strangers in various states of distress and injury. And then Susanna, tiny and frail in her green soccer uniform when she’s usually larger than life. She’s not conscious as far as Robby can tell and that’s what brings him back to the present.
Robby unfreezes and follows the gurneys even though his legs feel like lead. Suddenly Jack’s by his side again and he’s talking rapid-fire and Robby isn’t hearing anything as the EMTs start telling him what’s going on. All he can see is the unnatural angle of Susanna’s shin, cracked and bleeding, and something sharp sticking out of her abdomen. The lack of expression on her face. He can’t stop picturing Daisy, so small despite being overdue, and her ‘baby on board’ sticker on the back bumper that wouldn’t do anything but let them find her body faster than-
No.
No, don’t go there.
He hasn’t even realized he’s stopped moving, Evie’s gurney going through the floppy doors toward the imaging wing. He’s still floating in space, lost and out of orbit with his family flung on different paths. Where’s Maggie? She probably would’ve been in the front seat, always fighting over getting to sit there. Multiple casualties in the field. Robby can’t breathe. Where are you? Where’s Daisy? Multiple casualties in the field. There are too many people here and it’s too loud and too bright. And he sees Susanna on the other side of the ED, conscious now but wailing in pain and covered in blood and surrounded by Robby’s students. The sound of her pain alone is enough to strangle him.
Jack’s hand crashes across Robby’s face.
Hard.
Ears ringing, skin burning.
Jack’s eyes are serious and dark and urgent. “Stay with me, brother. We need you right now. Your girls need you.”
Robby can barely form a coherent sentence and he feels his knees starting to give. He’s only seen half his family alive so far. And he can’t think about anything else. His voice sounds foreign, far away, aching. “Where’s Maggie and where’s- where’s-”
Jack guides him to the ground instead of trying to keep him on his feet. “Breathe, Michael. Breathe.” His pager is going off non-stop; he’s needed for another trauma, another body, another family falling apart. He shoves his water bottle into Robby’s arms and says, “We’ll send someone with an update about everyone as soon as we can. I know this is a fucking nightmare right now, but I swear I’ll-”
“Dr. Robinavitch?”
It’s Mohan, who looks even more scared and unsure than Robby, holding six clipboards stacked on top of each other.
Six.
Six charts.
Six people.
Robby’s chest finally begins to loosen. Six charts means six living patients. No matter what, you’re all here. You’re all in his hospital being cared for by his people.
Mohan goes on, “I’m so sorry, but we need you to sign some consents so that we can-”
Robby takes the clipboards and pen from her hand. He swallows hard and manages to find Dr. Robinavitch somewhere inside the shrapnel of his gut. “Walk me through it, kid.”
Jack gives one more squeeze to Robby’s bicep and then jogs back across the ED to wherever he’s needed next as Mohan joins Robby on the floor instead of asking him to stand up. She could use the moment of rest, too. “I’m really sorry it’s me talking to you instead of someone more senior, but they’re all busy with-”
“Walk me through it,” he repeats, “like any other family member, alright?”
She whispers, “You’re not any other family member.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll critique your bedside manner after.”
“That might help,” she admits with a nervous laugh. “Okay. We’ll go from most to least urgent.”
“Good. Take the consents from me as you get them; never waste time.”
Mohan swallows and nods. “The car was hit squarely on the passenger side. Margaret-”
“Maggie.”
“Her, ah, her school ID says Margaret. Maggie was sitting in the area of highest impact, and her injuries correspond with that. She’ll need multiple casts, but, ah, but the big thing is that we need to start a craniotomy right away. She has a brain bleed known as an intracerebral hemorrhage; we need to drain the bleed and repair the vessels.”
Robby goes white and sweaty. His brain switches into autopilot because he can’t dare process how serious that is. What it could mean. How, in a few hours, he may not have five daughters anymore. “We can’t do a stereotactic aspiration?”
“Unfortunately, the size and location of the bleed rule out less invasive treatment methods. We need to be aggressive in treating this.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Your delivery. Good.” He scribbles his signature across five pages on Maggie’s chart. Samira runs it to central and the machine of the hospital takes over. “Next.”
Mohan continues on, fatigue thick in her voice, “When it comes to Evelyn-”
“Evie.”
Mohan gives a sad sort of smile. “Right. Evie. She was sitting directly behind Maggie, so she got the next most impact. There’s still lots of imaging to do, but we’re looking at a myriad of fractures, mostly minor, but she does have a break in one of her forearm growth plates that could impact long-term development of the limb.”
“A little stiff, Samira,” Robby tells her. “Try again.”
“One of Evie’s breaks could lead to her arm growing abnormally, so we’ll need to monitor that closely over the next year. Most growth plate fractures do heal normally, though.”
“Better. Other breaks?”
“On the right side of her body, she has different levels of fractures from her shoulder down to her hip, essentially. We’ve located four fractured ribs, a break in her collarbone, and several through her wrist and forearm. One of the consents is for an ortho specialist to come down and fit her for a custom cast; she’s going to have to be out of school for a while.”
Robby sighs and rubs his hands over his face. Exhaustion weighs his features down, but there’s nothing he can do except go through. He signs.
It feels never-ending as Mohan continues, “Susanna is conscious, responsive, and generally in good condition, but she’s going to need surgery to remove multiple foreign bodies and to set the bones in a complex tibial fracture.”
The part of his brain that wants to teach is keeping him occupied from the horror of it all, stabilizing his voice and increasing his focus. Dr. Robby asks absently, scratching away at each form, “What are the foreign bodies? You should usually just say the object if it isn’t privileged or, y’know, embarrassing.”
“It’s mainly glass pieces. The largest is a few inches, but there are a lot of smaller shards. It’s going to be an intricate debridement.”
“Which means?”
“It’s going to be a lengthy, very precise surgical process to ensure we successfully remove all pieces,” she corrects, letting out a relieved breath when Robby nods his approval. “We’re very lucky that there don’t seem to be punctures to any of her organs, but we won’t know for sure about some of the larger pieces until we have a sterile field.”
Robby looks up at Mohan for the first time since she started. “How’d she get punctured by so much glass from the backseat?”
“The sunroof fell inward under the weight of another vehicle,” she explains quietly. Mohan stills Robby’s shaking hand and tells him, gentle and human, “The EMT told me that she was in the lowest impact part of the car. Her injuries were sustained after the crash.”
Robby’s brow furrows. For the first time, he actually doesn’t follow. “What does that mean?”
Mohan touches his shoulder, comforting and sure, as she explains, “Susanna maneuvered herself however she could over the baby’s car seat when she saw part of the car about to collapse. She knew her leg would get crushed and that she was going to get covered in glass. But she moved to save the baby’s life.” Wiping a quick, unexpected tear from her cheek, Mohan murmurs, “You should get her an ice cream or something for that.”
Robby gets choked up. When did he start crying? The sob is aching. How could he have raised someone so brave she would do that? So brave she would put her life on the line? Scared and hurt and seven years old and already saving lives. When Mohan gives the next chart to Robby, he steadies himself with a few deep breaths.
“For the other three, I just need some basic forms signed.”
“Thank god,” Robby mutters, flipping through the pages and signing haphazardly. He always cringes when family members don’t take the time to look at their consents, but now all he cares about is getting this done. Getting to his family.
“Tanner mainly has soft tissue injuries – bruises, some sprains – and she needed stitches on a few cuts. Otherwise, she was incredibly lucky. My main concern for her is psychological; it’s incredibly difficult for such a new driver to feel safe again after something like this. She’s going to be dealing with a lot of guilt. Make sure she gets the help she needs as soon as possible.”
“That’s a good thing to say, kid. Really good. A lot of doctors would skip that.” Robby makes a mental note to ask his therapist for recommendations for an adolescent specialist. Then he asks, softer than Samira’s ever heard her boss, “My wife? The baby?”
“Daisy was in the low-impact zone as well, thankfully, and clearly your wife’s a pro mom because she was properly secured to protect her head and neck. We only suspect a concussion, which is really the best possible outcome for an infant so young in an accident this serious. We have her in a private room for observation.” At last, Samira smiles, just happy to have a little good news to share. “And your wife is over there with her. We took some imaging and bloodwork to be safe, but for now the worst seems to be a few minor lacerations from helping the girls.”
Robby sighs, gratitude and grief in equal measure through his body. “Can I head up there and see them now?”
“Of course, Dr. Robby. Room six,” she tells him, trying to seem sure. “Keep your pager on; we’ll keep you updated on everyone’s treatment.”
“Thanks, Samira. Good job.”
Before she can say anything else, he’s jogging across the ED floor, dodging gurneys and triage stations and questions. The pediatric rooms have never felt so far away, but his legs manage to keep carrying him even as every step shakes.
The hospital is quieter with each foot away from the chaos of the emergency room. The moment he pulls open the door to pediatric six, that eerie quiet is replaced by the most wonderful sound he’s ever heard. Singing.
It’s you.
It’s you and you’re holding his kicking and screaming and beautifully alive baby in your tired arms.
Sitting on the loveseat that overlooks the infant-sized vitals setup Daisy's been removed from to nurse, you gaze up at him with so much emotion in your expression. Relief, he realizes. Relief that he’s here with you. You’ve been crying and so has he, all your eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He surges forward as you whimper, “Michael.”
Your breathless voice is a mitzvah in and of itself. Robby falls to his knees in front of you and presses his head into your thighs and feels the realness and the life of you. Daisy is screaming her little head off and it’s pure music, the melody of her lungs working and her heart beating. Robby envelops you both on the loveseat, taking the baby’s weight from you, and weeps.
And weeps.
Late that night, you try to sleep with your head on Michael’s shoulder on the couch in Maggie’s and Evie’s shared hospital room. Susanna’s fast asleep, her head in your lap, neon green leg cast propped up, mouth lolling open. Daisy is in a hospital bassinet with Jack watching over her. Visiting hours are over, but it turns out some people are willing to look the other way for the chief attending and his family.
Tanner hasn’t left Maggie’s side since she came out of surgery. The doctor had spoken too fast to you and Robby out in the hallway, leaving Tanner straining to hear even snippets. Brain bleed. Surgery as successful as possible given the extent and severity. No timeline on when she’ll wake up. If she’ll wake up.
If.
It’s the worst word Tanner’s ever heard.
You’re the only one awake to hear what Tanner’s whispering, over and over, to her little sister: “I’m sorry, Mags. I’m so sorry. Please wake up. Please, please forgive me.”
Part Three: Thank You
You’ve been home for five days now with Daisy and Susanna, doing almost nothing but sleeping, eating, pumping, and crying. Jack’s been staying over, too, helping out with making the house accessible for Susanna and for Evie when she’s able to come home.
In the evening, you hear the garage open and close.
You look up at Robby with broken hope in your eyes. Did Maggie wake up?
He shakes his head.
You tilt your head to the side. Is Tanner with you?
He shakes his head again and crawls onto the couch next to you, taking Daisy onto his chest and breathing slowly until he can speak. His fingers twine with yours as he tells you, “Evie can come home tomorrow if we’re ready.”
“We’re ready,” you reply, somehow still sounding eager in your constant exhaustion. “Jack and I finished with her new bedroom setup downstairs today.”
“Good. That’s good.” Robby kisses the side of your head and murmurs, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything and then some,” he replies softly. Daisy grips his beard with her grabby hands and he lets her, smiling sleepily at her wide eyes. He brushes some of her wispy dark curls and adds, “Thank you for this perfect baby. Thank you for our family. Thank you for-”
“I already spent the whole day crying, Michael,” you cut him off, wiping your wet cheeks. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“Never doubted it for a second.” His warm brown eyes flick over to you before returning to Daisy’s, a mirror of his own. “I love you so much. All of you.”
Jack appears in the living room archway, silhouetted by the hall light. “Susanna’s out after four grueling rounds of Slow Mo The Soccer Sloth. Now give me that baby and go to bed.”
Robby frowns. “I just got her. Wait your turn.”
“Nuh uh,” Jack protests, stretching out his arms for his tiny niece. “You have access to cute baby time whenever you want; this is my vacation. You need to rest with your wife. The kid and I will enjoy Goodnight Moon on our own, thank you very much.”
Robby nods and hands off Daisy, who immediately yanks Jack’s earlobe. Bless him for not minding or complaining.
As Robby helps you to your feet, you start to tell Jack for the hundredth time, “There’s fresh breastmilk in-”
But Jack raises his hand to cut you off. “I’m a pro, mama, don’t worry. You two get as much sleep as you can; I’ve got breakfast set, too.”
“You’re an angel,” you sigh sweetly, giving both Daisy and Jack a kiss on the cheek. “You should think about switching careers.”
He smiles as Daisy gives him a wide-eyed, wondrous giggle. “If I could make six figures entertaining this munchkin, I’d consider it.”
Robby clasps his shoulder and says, voice deep and true, “Thank you, Jack. You know how grateful I am for you?”
Jack nods slowly and then gives Robby a one-armed hug. “Yeah, I do. Get some sleep, brother.”
As Jack takes the baby to the kitchen to warm up her next bottle, Robby walks just behind you up the stairs. Even though you’ve felt totally fine since day three, Robby continues to be protective, keeping a hand low on your back to stabilize you. He helps you get ready for bed and you let him dote and spoil, savoring his adoration and tenderness.
While Robby works lotion into your back, sitting behind you in bed, you ask him, “Did Tanner say anything today?”
“Not to me,” he replies softly. “Dana told me that she took a shower and ate all the food the nurses brought her, so that’s good.”
“Still talking Maggie’s ear off?”
“About everything and anything,” he confirms. “If I were in a coma, listening to Tanner talk about Luke’s cute butt when he plays lacrosse would definitely wake me up so I could puke.”
You let out a barking laugh and slap his thigh hard. “Michael!”
Pressing his forehead to the curve of your shoulder, he mutters, “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.”
“I know,” you sigh. “Me too. How long do we let her stay at the hospital?”
“Until Maggie wakes up.”
“What if-”
He shakes his head and snakes his arms around your stomach, insisting, “Until she wakes up.”
“Okay. Until she wakes up.” You turn around, adjusting so you’re in his lap instead of between his legs, and time your breaths with his. “She’s a good sister.”
“Yeah, she is. They’re all so good. Like their mother.” He kisses your forehead and then holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You ready to go to bed?”
With a slightly pained look, you sigh and nod.
Robby sees right through you, of course. Twenty years together will do that. “What is it?”
You sigh and admit, “My boobs are swollen and my haakaa is downstairs and my baby is having a bottle in her nursery.”
Robby chews on that for a second and then smirks a bit. His cheeks going red, he rubs your back and says, “It’s funny; I feel like it would be weird to offer to suck on your nipples like I haven’t done it a million times before.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not sure,” he replies. As you lift your tee up and toss it to the side, baring your naked breasts to him for the first time since the accident, he mutters, “Something about it being wrong to think about your boobs while our kids are-”
You shut him up with a kiss, warm and firm and begging. “My therapist told me this morning that it’s more important than ever to focus on our relationship.” As Robby groans, throwing his head back so you can kiss up his neck, you breathe out, “She said that couples who prioritize intimacy during stress and tragedy have significantly reduced rates of divorce.”
He almost laughs. “Were you worried about us getting divorced?”
“No, obviously,” you huff as Robby tugs his own shirt off and begins kissing across your chest, staying a few inches away from where you need most. “I just missed you. I need you. We need each other.”
Gripping your hips and grinding up against your ass, he teases, “So this ‘swollen breasts’ thing was just a ruse to get me to pay attention to you?”
You give him a conspiratorial smile and suggest, “How about you start sucking and find out?”
Amid your teasing and gasping and knowing, Robby finds a perfect escape in worshipping every healing inch of your body. The intimacy is a lifeline, an anchor, a need. It lets him sleep. Lets him rest.
You wake with a start to the sound of Robby’s phone. His hand shoots out to stop the piercing sound as you groggily flip to your side. He mutters, speech thick and slurred with sleep, “It’s the hospital.”
He turns on speaker phone and a woman’s clear voice comes through: “Dr. Robby?”
With the phone on his chest, Robby rubs his hands over his face and sighs as you snuggle up against his arm, “Mohan? What is it?”
“Maggie’s awake.” Without saying a word, Robby launches out of bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and starts snatching clothes for both of you from the closet. While he’s shimmying on sweats and brushing his teeth, Samira asks, “Robby? You still there?”
You pick up the phone with teary eyes as Robby pelts a cozy sweatshirt at you. “Yeah, he’s- he’s getting ready to go. We’ll be there soon. Is she scared?”
“No, actually.” You hear the tentative smile in her voice. “I think Tanner’s got that covered.”
That makes your heart so warm it might burst. “Thank you, Dr. Mohan.”
While tugging on shoes, Robby asks, “Is there anything we need to know about her condition before we get there?”
“She wants to see her sisters,” Samira replies tenderly. Then, she adds, “And she’s asking for pancakes.”
Dressed now, you ask her, “Can we have those ordered to the hospital?
“I think we can make that happen, Mrs. Robinavitch.”
An hour later, you’re all hugged and cried out while Maggie examines herself in the handheld mirror Samira offered her. Robby’s next to her, unable to stop touching her arm or her back to prove to himself she’s awake and alert. You’re at the end of the bed with Daisy knocked out on your chest and Susanna’s between Maggie’s legs, half-asleep but smiling. They even helped Evie transfer to her new transport chair so she could hold Maggie’s hand.
With a teary pout, Maggie observes, “They shaved half my head.”
“You had a pretty serious surgery,” Robby sighs, rubbing her back and once again checking over the intense line of staples holding her scalp together. “You’ve got battle scars now.”
“It looks badass,” Tanner tells her, expression serious and full of a kind of agony Robby had hoped he could protect her from forever. Then she pulls her dark hair up and reveals the undercut she’d given herself in the hospital bathroom four days earlier, claiming she knew it would help. It’s choppy and you know you’re going to have to clean it up with her dad’s electric clippers, but the way Maggie stares at it does wonders. “Look, I did mine, too.”
Maggie breaks into a small smile as she reexamines her hair in a new light, this time envisioning herself being the girl with the undercut and survival story. “Badass.”
After a few moments of silence, she sets the mirror down, chews on her words for a second, and then tells Tanner, “One of the last things I remember is fighting with you. I don’t ever wanna fight like that again. Not if- not if it’s the last thing we might get to talk about.”
Tanner shakes her head vehemently and replies, “I’ve been thinking about that too, Mags. And I- I wanted to say thank you for being so annoying. Thank you for fighting with me.” Tanner laughs through tears, brushing Maggie’s hair out with careful fingers to avoid tugging her scalp staples, absently braiding it just to be with her sister. “I get now that you bug me because you want my attention and that you want my attention because you think I’m-” her voice breaks but she keeps smiling through it “-you think I’m worth something. So thank you.”
Maggie winces as she pulls Tanner into a tight hug. “Let’s keep fighting forever, then, okay?” Then she turns to Susanna and Evie and points to them like a Disney villain. “And don’t think the two of you are getting out of that, either.”
You and Robby make knowing eye contact over your daughters’ heads. Ten thousand more quiet mornings interrupted with screaming matches.
You can’t imagine anything better.
Part Four: I Love You
The next morning, Robby’s going over a mountain of discharge paperwork with Dana as she finally scoffs and shakes her head. “Five daughters, huh, cap?”
He just smiles and shakes his head, expression fond. “Yup.”
“A 16-year-old and a three-month-old?” She looks down the bridge over her nose, over her glasses. “At the same time?”
“Yup.”
“How many of them did you plan?”
Robby cuts her an amused, almost conspiratorial glance. “Two.”
“So did you need someone to explain how condoms work? We’ve got that sexual health presentation series coming up for the local middle schoolers; it’s a popular show, but I bet I could swing you a ticket.”
“Alright, alright.” Robby crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the nurse’s station. “Look, we had Tanner way too young. I wasn’t even out of med school, but we decided to figure it out. Thought we were done after Maggie, but sometimes you take your wife on a trip for your ten-year anniversary and the timezones make her forget the pill and, y’know, Evie happened. We thought she should have a sibling closer to her own age.”
“And the new baby almost a decade later at, what, 45? Another accident?”
Robby shrugs and tells her, “I thought we were way too old for another baby, too, but…Well, look at her. Look at them.” He gestures affectionately at you across in the waiting room, nursing Daisy while Susanna sleeps with her head on your shoulder. Tanner’s pushing Evie around until she laughs and Maggie’s giving the directions. All his girls getting antsy, ready to go home. You catch his gaze and give him a wink. Robby squeezes Dana’s shoulder and explains, “You find a woman like that and there’s no such thing as an accident. There’s only love that keeps growing.”
Yay road trip! I had so much fun writing this chapter (and the next one)! Can't wait to hear what you all think. I had to split it into two parts because it's so long, so will post the next one ASAP! x
Glen
His flight touches down in Austin at 2:06 p.m., the wheels kissing the runway with a shudder that vibrates up his spine.
Through the tiny oval window, the horizon glows a hazy gold — Texas heat already shimmering off the tarmac like it’s alive. The second he steps out of the jet bridge, it hits him: blistering, heavy, familiar. The kind of heat that smells like sunburnt cedar, exhaust, and nostalgia.
Home.
He flicks off flight mode before he’s even cleared the ramp.
Billie:
Just picked up Sloane.
Texas here we come 🤠
Fly safe, handsome.
His breath leaves him in a slow exhale.
She’s coming. She’s actually doing this — crossing two states, driving twenty hours, just to be where he is.
And God, he hopes he deserves that.
Leslie is waiting near baggage claim, waving both arms like she’s signaling a rescue helicopter.
“MY favourite brother!”
He doesn’t even break stride. “I’m your only brother, Les.”
“Semantics!” She launches herself at him, hugging him so tightly his ribs click. Brisket yips in the carrier like excuse me? I’m fragile.
She immediately scoops him out. “Hi, tiny prince! Did Daddy traumatise you with turbulence? Oh yes he did!”
Glen shakes his head, grinning despite the ache growing behind his sternum — nerves, anticipation, something warm and terrifying.
Leslie chatters nonstop as they walk through the Austin terminal — a wide, airy space of glass windows and polished floors, sunlight pouring in like honey.
“Gwen landed her first jump in the arena! Mom cried, obviously. Witt is going through some macho phase and arm-wrestled the UPS guy this morning like Dwayne Johnson. And Dad bought a new smoker, Glen. A forty-pound monstrosity. It’s blocking the porch. I think he loves it more than us.”
Glen huffs a laugh. “He probably named it.”
“Oh he did. ‘The Holy Smoker.’ It has cupholders.”
They push through the sliding doors into the unforgiving heat, the sky a relentless, endless blue. Leslie’s SUV is baking like a tin can in the sun, and the first blast of air conditioning inside feels like salvation.
The moment they pull onto the highway, she glances sideways at him — assessing, perceptive in that surgical, sisterly way.
“Okay,” she says, tapping the steering wheel. “What’s up with you?”
He blinks. “Nothing.”
Leslie gives him a look that could shatter glass.
“You’re vibrating with nerves, Glen. Like a chihuahua in denim.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. And I haven’t seen you like this since junior prom.”
He drops his head back against the seat and stares at the sky through the windshield — wide and bright and somehow making everything inside him feel more exposed.
“It’s just…” he starts, swallowing. “This weekend is a lot. For anyone. For someone who’s never met the family, who doesn’t know how insane we can be—”
“Glen.” Leslie softens instantly — voice dropping, teasing gone. “She’s not some fragile baby deer.”
“I know, but—”
“No. Listen to me.” She flicks her blinker on and merges with the confidence of someone who fears nothing, least of all death. “She handled me just fine in L.A., which means Billie can handle an entire ranch of Powells in their natural habitat.”
He cracks a smile despite himself.
Leslie continues, gentler now.
“I think you’re worrying about the wrong thing.”
He turns to her, brow raised.
“You’re scared of what this weekend means,” she says simply, “Because you like her — and I mean really like her. And that hasn’t happened in… forever.”
The truth lands so cleanly it knocks the wind from him.
He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “I just don’t want it to be too much. Too fast.”
Leslie bumps his shoulder with hers, warm and reassuring.
“Then you’ll protect her from the chaos. You always do that — you anchor people. You make them feel safe.”
He swallows hard, throat tight.
“And anyway,” she adds with a grin, “she’s literally driving twenty-something hours for you - which is, insane by the way. That girl is in, Glen. Like… in in.”
His heart kicks — not panic, not dread. Something warmer. Softer. Unfamiliar in a way that scares him more than the paparazzi ever have.
He opens Instagram to distract himself.
Sloane's post loads first on his feed - because of course she followed him almost immediately after Wednesday night.
The selfie hits him like sunlight.
Billie in the driver’s seat, Nugget squished between her and Sloane. Billie’s hair loose and windswept, cheeks a warm sun-kissed bronze, that wide smile that looks like it could power the state grid.
Her honey-green eyes squint with delight, freckles dusting across her cheekbones. The fitted white tank she’s wearing clings in a way that makes his throat close.
She looks… happy.
The caption:
Road trip baby 🤠
📍 LA ➜ Texas
He comments with zero hesitation:
Texas ain’t ready 🔥🤠
Leslie shrieks. “You COMMENTED? Oh my god, you simp.”
“I’m blocking you.”
“No you’re not. You need me. I offer sister advice that you clearly need.”
He ignores her and opens his message thread with Billie. His fingers hover for a moment — nerves fluttering low and hot in his stomach.
He types:
Glen:
Just landed, darlin’. Ridin’ home with Leslie now.
Promise me you’ll stop often, drink water, stretch your legs.
And message me every time you do.
Need you safe.
He hesitates — then adds another, softer:
Glen:
Brisket keeps lookin’ at the road like he’s expectin’ Nugget already.
…And I keep doin’ the same with you, peach.
He hits send and releases a breath.
Outside the window, fields stretch endlessly — golden grass waving in the wind, the sky so wide it feels like it could swallow him whole.
Twenty hours.
Twenty hours until he sees her again.
And for the first time in his life, home doesn’t feel complete without someone who isn’t even here yet.
---
Billie
Billie turns out of Sloane’s street, tyres whispering over the asphalt as she heads toward the highway. The midday sun is bright but not punishing yet, the kind of California warmth that dances across her forearms as she lowers the window. A breeze rushes in — dry, clean, tinged with eucalyptus and ocean salt — filling her lungs with that familiar pre-adventure thrill.
Beside her, Sloane is already in full chaos mode: shoes off, feet kicked onto the dashboard, iced coffee in hand, phone tapping at a speed that probably violates several state laws.
“Alright,” she declares, dramatic as ever, “ready for this? Playlist number one out of four.” She scrolls through Spotify with flair. “It’s giving—Sloane and Billie, nostalgia, best-friends-forever-core. Very us.”
Before Billie can ask what any of that means, the opening of California Gurls blasts out of the speakers so loudly Nugget jolts upright in the backseat.
Billie bursts into laughter — pure, involuntary — because instantly she’s thrown back to seven years ago: a newly transplanted Sloane with a British accent and zero traffic awareness, the two of them driving through LA at midnight, singing badly and loving every second.
“ROAD TRIP BABY!” Sloane screams, flinging one hand to the sky and nearly baptising herself in iced coffee. Nugget barks in solidarity.
“…You could travel the world!”
They’re already screaming.
“…But nothing comes close to the golden coast!”
Nugget howls now, long and dramatic, head tipped back like he’s auditioning for a wolf pack.
“...Once you party with us--”
“...You'll be falling in love--”
“Oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!”
Sloane and Billie lose it completely.
They dance while seated, they drumming the dash, shoulders shaking, voices cracking on every high note. Billie almost misses her exit twice. They sound awful. It’s perfect.
The city thins around them — tall buildings shrinking into desert scrub, the sky widening into an endless blue bowl overhead. Girl pop continues: P!nk, Kelly Clarkson, Beyoncé, the kind of soundtrack that feels like nostalgia, friendship, freedom and reckless joy.
Sloane documents everything.
Selfies. Videos. Nugget’s ears in HD.
“Billie smile—no with your eyes, no with your soul—YES QUEEN—okay that’s going on the story.”
They’re halfway through TEXAS HOLD ‘EM when Sloane suddenly shrieks — the kind of sound that makes Billie physically jolt and nearly skim the Palm Springs exit lane.
“Jesus, Slo!” Billie gasps, clutching the wheel and grimacing at the horn that beeps behind her. “What the fuck?”
“He commented on our photo!” Sloane practically screeches, vibrating with delight. “GLEN. Commented. On. Our. SELFIE.”
Billie’s stomach flips so violently she’s actually grateful for the seatbelt.
Sloane spins her phone around triumphantly.
“Oh my GOD, it’s on my public account too. Like public-public. Anyone can see it. The man is smitten.”
Billie opens her mouth but nothing comes out except air. Warm air. Very warm. Her cheeks are burning.
She’s still trying to process what this means — how it looks, what it implies, whether she’s supposed to faint — when the in-dash voice chimes:
“New message from Glen Powell”
Sloane lunges like a jungle cat, grabbing Billie’s phone from the console before she can blink.
“Oh YES, let Mama read this.”
Billie’s pulse thuds in her throat as Sloane unlocks it and reads aloud, voice melting into exaggerated romance-novel coos.
Sloane squeals. “Oh my GOD, he’s obsessed with you. He’s so obsessed with you. Bec needs to hear this immediately.”
Before Billie can stop her, Sloane is FaceTiming Bec with manic enthusiasm.
Bec answers on ring two — Aubrey babbling in the background — just in time for Sloane to scream-shout the entire update at her.
They fill Bec in on the road trip so far — the playlist, Nugget’s dramatic howling, Billie’s near-death experience via Sloane’s scream, Glen’s comment, Glen’s text.
“Okay, babes, Aubrey’s trying to eat a crayon,” Bec laughs, “send me hourly selfie updates or I’ll cry.”
“We love you!” Sloane and Billie shout in unison before she hangs up.
Silence returns — the good kind — warm wind rushing through the windows, the palm trees along the highway flicking past like green brushstrokes.
Billie glances sideways.
“You are so damn dramatic, you know that?”
Sloane grins like a Cheshire cat and shrugs. “I know. It’s one of the top five reasons you adore me.”
Billie snorts, pushing her shoulder playfully. “Sadly true.”
Sloane wiggles her brows. “And ONE of the reasons Glen likes you? Your taste in friends. You’re welcome.”
Dua Lipa’s voice fades in as Sloane cranks up the volume, and Billie settles back into her seat. She exhales slowly — the kind that feels like it leaves her bones.
Her heart is doing too many things at once.
Excitement. Nerves. Hope.
A kind of quiet thrill she hasn’t let herself feel in years.
Ahead, the road stretches toward Palm Springs — wide, sun-bleached, full of possibility.
Two hours down.
Eighteen to go.
And she can’t stop smiling.
---
Glen
The ranch driveway curves up like a familiar song — the kind he could hum in his sleep. Oak trees arch overhead, their leaves whispering in the warm Texas breeze, cicadas buzzing like an old summer soundtrack. Sunlight spills across the fields, turning everything gold as Leslie’s SUV rolls over the gravel.
“Home sweet chaos,” Leslie mutters, popping her gum.
Brisket whines excitedly in the backseat, nose pressed to the window as if he remembers every inch of this place.
Glen’s chest loosens the moment the house comes into view — huge sandstone walls glowing in the late-afternoon light, porch swing drifting lazily. His childhood, framed neatly in stone, wood and sunlight.
They park under the carport.
The second Glen steps out, the Texas heat hits him all over again, and then the front door slams open.
“UNCLE GLEN!”
Gwen and Witt sprint across the porch — boots thudding, hair flying, pure joy on legs.
Gwen reaches him first, leaping into his arms with the force of a small meteor.
“I JUMPED TODAY!” she announces breathlessly. “A REAL JUMP OVER A REAL POLE!”
“You did?” Glen laughs, lifting her easily and pressing a kiss to her temple, “That’s amazing, sweetheart.”
Witt skids to a stop beside them, arms crossed, attempting seriousness.
“I could jump higher,” he declares.
“No you can’t,” Gwen fires back.
“Yes I can!”
“No you can’t!”
His Dad’s voice booms from inside, “Lord help us.”
Glen sets Gwen down, the kids already sprinting ahead, their argument heating back up with the fierceness of a trial verdict. Then Brisket trots past them, tail wagging, and everything shifts — the debate forgotten as they chase after him in a flurry of boots and laughter. Glen watches the chaos fondly before following them into the cool living room.
Inside the house is bright, familiar — exposed sandstone walls, old hardwood floor, the scent of lemon cleaner, the hum of family.
Leslie steps in behind him. “MOM! I found a stray wanderin’ around LAX!”
His mom appears from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. The moment she sees him, her whole face softens.
“Oh, baby!” She throws her arms around him, squeezing him tight. “Let me look at you — oh sweetheart, L.A. hasn’t fed you properly.”
“Mom, I—”
“Hush, you’re home now.”
Dad hugs him next. “Good to have you home, son.”
Lauren rounds the corner, dropping a laundry basket instantly.
“There he is! My baby brother!”
“Still not a baby,” he says with rolled eyes, already in her embrace.
Will appears behind her, warm handshake, half-hug. “Welcome back, man.”
Then Tom enters the foyer, phone to his ear, suit pants wrinkled like he actually tried to leave work early but got dragged back in.
He covers the receiver with his hand. “Glen! One sec—yeah, Jeff, we’ll revisit those projections Tuesday—Tuesdaayyy—okay, goodbye.” He hangs up, exhales dramatically, then grins and pulls Glen into a hug. “Brother. Welcome home.”
“Tom,” Glen says, laughing. “Still chained to your desk, huh?”
“Until the moment I crack open a beer,” Tom replies. “Which should be in… twenty minutes.”
Mom beams as she ushers everyone toward the kitchen.
“People are coming in all afternoon! Aunt Honey, Uncle Mark, your school boys, the Walkers… and the entire McDaniels family tomorrow for the barbecue.”
Glen’s eyebrows lift. “All of them?”
Dad nods proudly. “Need an audience for The Holy Smoker.”
Lauren snorts. “It’s a grill, Dad.”
“It’s art,” he corrects.
The noise rises in overlapping waves — Lauren and Dad laughing, Leslie teasing Tom, Will desperately trying to mediate the escalating argument between Gwen and Witt. It’s warm and chaotic and everything Glen remembers.
And he thinks — God, I hope this won’t overwhelm Billie.
He slips upstairs to his room, suitcase dragging behind him.
He stops in the doorway.
Still his room — but grown.
Grey-blue paint.
A king bed with a thick navy comforter.
A renovated walk-in bathroom.
Bigger windows overlooking the pasture.
But the childhood pieces remain:
A shelf of fading baseball trophies.
Photos of him and Lauren with gummy smiles.
A cracked, sun-bleached Longhorns poster.
The stuffed armadillo from the state fair still sitting proudly on the shelf.
He sinks onto the edge of the bed.
And immediately imagines Billie here.
Her suitcase by the chair.
Her perfume in the bedding.
Her laughter filling the quiet.
Her legs tucked beneath his on this oversized mattress.
Nugget curled beside Brisket at the foot of the bed.
It hits him hard — unexpectedly tender.
His phone buzzes.
Billie.
It’s a photo of her, leaning against the car in warm, desert sun, hair loose and shining in soft, glossy waves. Her honey-green eyes squint with a soft smile, lips parted happily. Nugget sits proudly beside her, tongue hanging out.
She looks golden.
Happy.
Beautiful in that effortless way she doesn’t even notice.
His heart flips.
Billie:
First stop, cowboy 🤠
Palm Springs is already roasting us alive.
Nugget’s thriving.
Sloane’s inside getting coffee #2.
How’s home?
Glen types slowly, honesty softening every word.
Glen:
You look beautiful, darlin’.
Sun loves you.
Home’s loud as always.
Feels better knowin’ you’re gettin’ closer.
Where’s your next stop?
Three dots.
Then—
Billie:
Phoenix.
Nugget’s supervising.
He says you owe him a treat.
Glen laughs, warmth blooming through his chest.
From downstairs, Gwen shrieks:
“UNCLE GLEN IS TEXTING HIS GIRLFRIEND!”
He groans, dragging a hand over his face as he types.
Glen:
Gwen just yelled that you’re my girlfriend.
Whole house went quiet for a second.
Didn’t hate how that sounded.
Hope Palm Springs is calmer than this house.
Three dots pulse again, soft and steady.
Billie:
Your family is sweet.
I can’t wait to meet them.
We’re heading out again soon.
Next stop in
Peach out 🍑✌️
He stares at the last message, smiling like someone just shifted the world half an inch into place.
He’s still smiling when a soft voice appears in the doorway.
“Well,” his mom says gently, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, “that’s a look I haven’t seen on you in a long time.”
Glen startles just a little, then huffs a breath that’s half laugh, half caught-off-guard affection.
“You okay in here, sweetheart? You disappeared on us.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… catching up.”
Her eyes dip to the phone in his hand.
She raises an eyebrow — knowing, patient, soft.
“Who’s got my boy smiling like that?”
Glen hesitates for half a second before turning the screen toward her, thumb tapping the photo open.
“It’s Billie.”
His mom steps closer, taking the phone carefully as if it’s something delicate.
The Palm Springs photo lights up the remodeled room — Billie golden in the desert sun, eyes bright, hair tousled by heat and wind, Nugget panting happily beside her.
“Oh…” she breathes. “She’s lovely.”
Glen swallows. “Yeah. She is.”
His mom studies the picture a moment longer — not judging, just taking her in.
“She looks happy,” she says softly. “And kind. And… real.”
A beat.
“And she makes you happy. I can see that.”
Glen’s chest warms, tightens, unwinds all at once.
He nods. “Yeah. She does.”
She reaches out and smooths his hair like she did when he was little — a quiet, grounding gesture.
“Good,” she says simply. “I like her already.”
He laughs under his breath.
His mom hands the phone back, then gestures around the room with a small smile.
“You know this room’s barely yours anymore,” she teases. “We updated it a few years back. King bed, new bathroom, better light… but I left a few things. Thought you might want pieces of where you came from.”
Glen looks around — the navy comforter, the new walk-in bathroom, the larger windows — and then the old trophies, crooked longhorns posters, childhood photos.
It somehow feels like the perfect blend of past and future.
Like a place he could bring someone home to.
Someone like Billie.
His mom watches the look on his face soften.
“Feels like it fits you now,” she says quietly. “All grown up.”
He glances at the bed — imagining Billie stretched out there, hair spilling across the pillow, Nugget curled at her feet, Brisket claiming whatever space he can.
His mom catches the flicker in his expression.
“That girl of yours,” she says slowly, “I have a feeling she’s gonna fit here too.”
Glen’s breath stutters — not in fear, but in something dangerously close to hope.
His mom pats his arm once, gentle. “Come down whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”
And she slips out, leaving him alone in the quiet, the warmth of her words lingering, and Billie’s photo still glowing in his hand.
Next chapter is here! Getting closer to the big Texas scene. I can't wait for you all to read it! xx
Billie
Billie wakes before dawn — the kind of early morning where the sky is just a whisper of pale gold behind the blinds.
She barely slept.
Every time she drifted off, Glen’s message replayed, warm and impossible to ignore:
“The answer’ll come when it’s ready.
And I’ll be here —
whether it’s a yes, a no…
or somethin’ in between.”
Her stomach flips just thinking about it.
She rolls out of bed because lying still feels impossible.
The gym is humming more than usual for a Monday—people already hitting treadmills, clanking weights, talking softly in corners. It fits. Today feels like a day everyone woke up deciding something needed to change.
Billie warms up, slips her headphones on and starts her leg session.
Squats. Deadlifts. Hip thrusts.
At the top of one rep, when she pauses, glutes trembling, she thinks stupidly -
Glen would make some comment about the view.
Or blush trying not to.
Or both.
Her breath stutters—and she pushes through the last rep harder than planned.
By the end of her workout, sweat slick on her spine and adrenaline easing, something in her settles. The same something that whispered to her around 3am:
If I can make work fit… I’m going.
The thought still scares her.
But the decision is there.
Steady.
Quiet.
Waiting.
---
Nugget nearly bowls her over at the door when she gets home from the gym, tail doing full helicopter rotations.
“Alright, alright,” she laughs, clipping his lead on. “I’m coming buddy.”
The morning is gorgeous—the whole city washed in gold, the air cool, the streets calm. LA is waking slowly around them: joggers, dog walkers, bakery lights flickering on.
She pops in her headphones, “Charlie Brown” by Coldplay filling her ears just as they hit the quieter residential stretch. Of course. The universe has a sense of humor. All that talk of light and running and feeling alive—it matches exactly the jittery, hopeful thing bouncing around in her chest.
She walks longer than usual today—another block, then another. Nugget is blissfully happy, tongue lolling, trotting like the world is perfect.
At one point the sunrise hits just right—peach and gold behind them, Nugget’s fur glowing—and Billie crouches to take a selfie. She presses her cheek to Nugget’s face; he pants happily, looking like he’s grinning.
She snaps it. Looks at it.
Feels something warm settle in her ribs.
No caption. Just the moment.
She posts it to her story.
On the way back she detours to her regular coffee spot. The bell jingles as she steps inside, and Maya beams at her from behind the counter.
“Early today! Single or double shot?”
“Definitely a double kind of day Maya” Billie says, smiling softly, "Big decisions".
Maya grins, sliding her coffee over moments later— along with a large bone shaped biscuit.
"Extra shot on the house, Billie. For big decisions".
Billie laughs, thanking her, and heads out with her usual caramel latte, Nugget proudly carrying his complimentary dog treat like he just graduated from something important.
She arrives at work earlier than she needs to — coffee in hand, black clinic polo and shorts, her favourite white-and-pink sneakers squeaking faintly on the gym floor.
“Morning, troublemakers,” she calls as she steps inside.
Shanya is already with a patient — some petite, limber teenager balancing on a BOSU ball and doing what looks suspiciously like a ballet arabesque. Shanya lifts a hand, eyebrows raised in a silent Why are you HERE so early?
Across the room, Thomas is foam-rolling his calves with the quiet misery of someone losing an argument with his own body.
Billie slows when she sees him. “You look sore.”
He exhales. “I might be.”
She tilts her head, already knowing. “You tried to beat your PB again didn't you?.”
“Maybe. But I was feeling good!"
Billie huffs a soft laugh, shaking her head at him. “We have this conversation at least once a month Thomas.”
He groans as the roller hits a tender spot. “And every time, I think this’ll be the one where I’m right.”
She pats his shoulder, affectionate but firm. “And every time, your calves disagree.”
He groans again.
Billie walks off smiling, tapping her fingers against her coffee cup with amusement.
As she passes the staff hallway, Lisa pokes her head out of her office — spiky platinum hair, too much morning energy, zero nonsense.
“Billie” she says mildly, green eyes curious, “You don’t usually come in early unless something’s rattling around up in your head.”
Billie pauses, taking another innocent sip of her coffee. “Just… had to get moving.”
Lisa studies her for a half second longer than necessary. Not unkind. Just attentive. Billie knows Lisa can see right through her - they've worked together for so many years that it was near impossible to hide anything from her.
“Hm,” she says. “Well. My door’s open if that ‘moving’ turns into thinking.”
Billie smiles — grateful, a little caught — and slips into her office.
Her desk is exactly how she left it — neat, colour-coded, organised.
Her dad would be proud; he raised her on military-level discipline without ever calling it that.
She sits.
Takes a deep breath.
And stares at her planner.
Time to talk to Ross.
---
Ross’s office smells faintly of coffee and liniment cream. He looks up from his paperwork the moment she knocks, pushing his glasses up onto his bald head. Even at fifty, he still looks like he could bench-press an entire football team.
“Billie,” he says warmly. “Morning. You’re early.”
“Yeah. Um.” She steps inside, closing the door behind her, palms sweating just a little. “Do you… have a minute?”
“For you?” He smiles. “Always.”
Her throat tightens. She’s so used to being low-maintenance here. Predictable. Steady. Asking for nothing.
“I was hoping to adjust my hours this week,” she says, rocking subtly from her toes to her heels and back again. “Like… a lot.”
Ross leans back, assessing, folding his thick arms across his chest.
“Alright,” he says. “Hit me.”
Billie inhales.
“I want to work longer days today through Wednesday. And take Thursday through Monday off.”
His brows lift.
“Long weekend, huh?”
She fiddles with the cuff of her sleeve, then smooths an imaginary strand of hair back into her ponytail.
“Yeah. If it’s possible.”
Ross studies her for three quiet seconds.
She hates how seen she feels.
“Where you headed?” he asks — casual, but with the gentleness of a man who already knows it matters.
“Texas,” she says.
“Texas,” he repeats, smiling faintly. “Big state.”
“Yep.”
He waits.
She swallows, simultaneously hating and loving that he doesn’t rush her.
“It’s… kind of spontaneous,” she admits. “Someone I—someone invited me.”
Ross’s expression softens.
“Someone important?”
“Maybe,” she whispers. “It feels… like something.”
He nods, as if that alone is explanation enough.
“Well,” he says, leaning forward again, “you’ve worked here seven years. You never ask for last-minute leave. You take on the tough cases. You pick up shifts no one wants.” A pause. “If anyone’s earned a few days away, Billie, it’s you.”
Relief hits so fast her knees nearly buckle.
“Thank you,” she breathes. “Really.”
He waves a hand like it's nothing. “Bring me back something Texan. Not a cowboy — my wife would kill me.”
Billie laughs. “No cowboys. Got it.”
She steps out of his office with her heart hammering and pulls out her phone.
Billie:
Okay. I’ve made a decision.
Two seconds later—
Sloane:
If this is about Texas I’m already wearing boots.
Bec:
Hang on I’m feeding Smudge. What’s happening??
Sloane:
Bec put the CAT DOWN.
Billie:
Ross said yes. I got the time off.
Sloane:
YES.
TEXAS BABY.
IM PLAYING BEYONCE RIGHT NOW.
THIS AINT TEXASSS
Bec:
Bill that’s amazing 🥹
I’m so proud of you.
Billie:
Sloane… you’re coming with me.
And we’re driving.
Sloane:
OH MY GOD
YES
COWBOYS HERE I COME
If Glen wears a Stetson I will physically evaporate
YOU will combust
Billie Rae James don’t lie
Billie’s cheeks flame.
Because she did imagine Glen in a Stetson.
For a full forty-five seconds.
Bec:
Please hydrate.
Please pack snacks.
Please don’t let Sloane flirt with every cowboy she meets
Sloane:
No promises.
Billie:
We’d have to leave Thursday afternoon.
Drive overnight.
Sloane:
I THRIVE between 10pm and psychosis baby girl.
Bec:
This is why I’m praying for you.
Sloane:
Thank you. I accept prayers, snacks, and cash.
Billie:
It’s twenty hours
Sloane:
Billie.
I’ve driven ambulances for twelve hours straight.
I can do twenty with one hand and a Red Bull.
Bec:
Do NOT drive with one hand.
Sloane:
Fine. Two hands.
Unless there’s a cowboy.
Billie:
Nugget is coming too.
Sloane:
THE KING RIDES.
Bec:
Please take photos.
Many.
All of them.
Sloane:
There will be Polaroids.
A scrapbook.
A documentary.
Billie smiles helplessly at her screen.
God, she loves them.
Bec:
How are you feeling, Bill?
Billie hesitates for a second.
Billie:
Nervous.
But… good.
Like it’s big, but in the right way.
Sloane:
He’s smitten as hell.
You're smitten as hell.
GLOWING.
This is very main-character of you and I'm so proud of you.
Bec:
We’ve got you, okay?
The drive, the weekend, the feelings.
All of it.
Billie swallows.
Billie:
I love you guys.
Sloane:
We love YOU queen.
When do we pack?
Billie:
Wednesday night.
Sloane:
WE RIDE AT DA—
okay fine
Thursday afternoon.
Bec:
Send selfies.
Sloane:
Tell Glen I said hi in a mysterious seductive way.
Billie:
Absolutely not.
Sloane:
Then I’ll tell him myself in Texas.
TEXAS BABYYYYY
Billie groans, laughing.
She feels full.
Held. Steady.
She’s really doing this. She’s going to Texas.
With Sloane. With Nugget.
With him.
---
Glen
Glen wakes to the sound of Brisket’s tiny paws tap-tapping behind his knees.
He slept better than he did on Saturday night— the sheets still faintly smelling like Billie’s coconut shampoo and warm skin.
For a half-second, he forgets where he is. His body expects weight. Heat. The easy press of her back against his chest.
He reaches an arm out toward her side of the bed before reality catches up.
Empty.
The cool space where she should be lands like a quiet ache — not sharp, just there.
He sighs softly.
Brisket yawns dramatically. Glen ruffles his ears.
“Yeah, buddy,” he murmurs. “I miss her too.”
The house feels different in daylight — brighter, yes, but stripped back. No soft laughter drifting down the hallway. No Nugget thundering across hardwood. Just the low hum of the fridge and the distant city waking up outside.
He shuffles to the kitchen, starts the coffee machine, rubs sleep from his eyes. The counter is mostly clear now — wiped down, reset — but her lip balm is still there by the sink, exactly where she left it. A small thing. Easy to miss. He doesn’t move it.
He hasn’t heard from Billie since last night — since that soft, unraveling text she sent him before bed.
He’s trying to give her space.
Trying to follow Leslie’s advice.
Trying not to be the guy who hovers.
But he keeps checking his phone anyway — reflexive, hopeful, a little ridiculous.
Just as he takes his first sip of coffee — too hot, slightly bitter — his notifications ping. Several in a row.
Group text from his siblings.
A missed call from his agent.
A random meme from Thomas.
And—
A new Instagram story.
His heart stutters, sharp and immediate.
He taps it instantly.
Billie fills his screen — flushed from her workout, ponytail a little messy, headphones on, Nugget pressed happily to her cheek. Sunrise behind them turns everything honey-gold, softening the edges of the world. Her smile does something warm and stupid to his chest.
Brisket noses his wrist, sensing the shift.
“I swear,” Glen mutters fondly, “that girl’s gonna take me out.”
He watches it again. Then again. Notices the way she leans into Nugget, the quiet confidence in her eyes, the fact that she didn’t caption it at all.
He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t double tap. Doesn’t risk crowding her.
He just looks.
She’s beautiful.
Hope curls low and warm in his ribs.
He moves to the table with his coffee when a buzz rattles the counter.
A text.
Billie.
His whole body stills.
He opens it immediately.
Billie:
So… I have a question for you.
Well, two actually.
His breath catches. He sits back down without realizing he stood.
Glen:
Two questions before I’ve finished my coffee?
That’s a bold move, peach.
Go on.
Dots flicker.
Billie:
About the weekend.
Okay.
Smile stays. Attention sharpens.
Glen:
I’m listenin’.
This feels important… or dangerous.
Possibly both.
A pause.
Billie:
Do you have a spare Stetson?
Glen blinks — then laughs, low and fond.
Well, hell.
Glen:
Darlin’, I’ve got three.
Four if you count the one my mom hides when she thinks I’m gettin’ ideas.
Why?
You plannin’ on causin’ trouble?
He can already picture it — her hair tucked under the brim, chin tipped up, that quiet confidence she wears like she doesn’t know how dangerous it is.
Dots appear.
Stop.
Start again.
Billie:
Do you think… I’d look stupid in one?
Glen presses a hand over his mouth to hide the grin, even though no one’s here to see it. Brisket lifts his head, tail giving a single, curious thump.
Stupid.
God.
Glen:
Stupid?
He doesn’t hesitate now.
Glen:
Honey, the only way you could look better in a hat
is if you were wearin’ it sittin’ on my bed in nothin' but Longhorns orange.
Texas’d have no idea what hit it.
He exhales, realizing he probably should’ve reined that in.
But he doesn’t.
Another pause.
This one stretches — long enough for the room to feel very quiet, long enough for his heartbeat to start misbehaving.
Billie:
…you’re sure?
The teasing in his smile softens, settles into something steadier.
Glen:
Peach, I’m dead sure.
You’d steal the whole damn state.
He sets the phone down for half a second, drags a hand through his hair, then picks it back up again — still smiling like an idiot.
Dots appear again.
Billie:
Okay well…
I just spoke to Ross.
Something in him sharpens — a quick flash of concern. Her boss.
Glen:
Everything alright?
He lets the quiet stretch. Doesn’t rush her.
Billie:
I asked to change my hours this week.
So I could have Thursday—
and Monday—
off.
Glen’s on his feet before he realizes it, heart thudding hard enough he can feel it in his throat.
Glen:
Yeah?
And?
The pause that follows is careful. Brave.
Billie:
And he said yes.
A soft, stunned laugh breaks out of him, full and helpless.
Glen:
Alright, sweetheart…
What are you tryin’ to tell me here?
Dots.
Then—
Billie:
That if the offer’s still open…
I’d really like to come to Texas with you.
(And bring Sloane with me.)
For a beat, he just stares at the screen.
Then warmth floods his chest — relief, excitement, something deeper that settles instead of spikes.
Glen:
Billie darlin’.
The offer’s wide open.
Has been the whole damn time.
You just made my whole week peach.
A breath.
Then — lighter again, teasing but unmistakably pleased.
Glen:
I’ll set aside a Stetson for you.
One of my better ones.
Longhorns shirt too—
figured I should give you something you won’t want to give back.
A reply comes fast.
Billie:
Yeah I definitely won't be giving your Stetson back easily.
You may have to persuade me, baby.
The air leaves his lungs.
Heat rolls low and steady — not frantic, not wild. Intent.
He exhales slowly, grin turning dangerous as he types back.
Glen:
Mmm.
That’s fine, darlin’.
I’ve been told I can be very persuasive —
especially when I take my sweet time.
He sets the phone down, chest full, mind already betraying him with an image he absolutely does not need right now — Billie in his Stetson, Longhorns orange against her skin and absolutely nothing else, Texas sun everywhere.
Brisket curls tighter into his lap.
And with the morning light spilling across the floor, Glen knows now with certainty—
In the Space Between Series (Glen Powell x Gabby Summers)
Gabriella "Gabby" Summers wasn't looking for love, especially not with a movie star. But one unexpected run in at a Fourth of July party hosted by Tanner Novlan and his wife changes everything.
Glen Powell is charming, confident, and completely out of her league, at least that's what Gabby tells herself. What starts as easy conversations turn into late night texts, stolen weekends, and a connection neither of them saw coming.
But dating a man whose career keeps him halfway across the world isn't simple. Between Glen's filming schedule, constant travel, and the pressure to keep their relationship private, Gabby learns that falling for him means taking risks she's never taken before.
Because sometimes love isn't about perfect timing. It's about finding the right person, and holding on to them no matter what.
Book 1: In the Space Between
Chapter 1: How It All Began
Chapter 2: Getting to Know Each Other
Chapter 3: Glen Invites Gabby Over
Chapter 4: First Official Date
Chapter 5: Navigating the Early Days
Chapter 6: Glen's Time Off
Chapter 7: More of Glen's Time Off
Chapter 8: Glen's Last Day in LA
Chapter 9: Gabby and Glen Arrive in Austin
Chapter 10: Gabby's First Night in Austin
Chapter 11: Gabby's First Morning in Texas
Chapter 12: Gabby Meets Glen's Family
Chapter 13: Gabby Meets the Rest of Glen's Family
Chapter 14: Gabby Goes Out with the Powells
Chapter 15: The Hardest Goodbye
Chapter 16: Time Apart
Chapter 17: Bumps In the Road & Surprise Reunions
Chapter 18: 36 Hours in Los Angeles
Chapter 19: 36 Hours in Los Angeles Part 2
Chapter 20: 36 Hours in Los Angeles Part 3
Chapter 21: 36 Hours in Los Angeles Part 4
Chapter 22: 36 Hours in Los Angeles Part 5
Chapter 23: 36 Hours in Los Aneles Part 6
Chapter 24: More Time Apart
Chapter 25: Gabby Surprises Glen
Chapter 26: Glen Meets Gabby's Dad
Chapter 27: The Game
Chapter 28: The Surprise Trip
Chapter 29: Settling in Napa
Chapter 30: First Morning in Napa
Chapter 31: First Day in Napa
Chapter 32: First Night in Napa
Chapter 33: Second Morning in Napa
Chapter 34: Last Day in Napa
Chapter 35: Saying Goodbye
Book 2: Across the Ocean, Still Yours
Chapter 1: Already Out There
Chapter 2: The Noise Hits
Chapter 3: One Condition
Chapter 4: Caught
Chapter 5: Somewhere Safe
Chapter 6: What Comes Next
Chapter 7: Somewhere Safe Again
Chapter 8: A Morning to Remember
Chapter 9: The First Week Apart
Chapter 10: The Second Week Apart
Chapter 11: Almost There
Chapter 12: London, Finally
Chapter 13: Set Visit
-
note: special thanks to @echoingbirdsofprey for helping me out with making the banner/header for me!
Here's number 13! This is a short one, so will have 14 up tomorrow for you all! Thank you for the love!
Billie
Billie’s alarm goes off at 5:00 a.m., though she’s already awake — lying in the soft blue hush before sunrise, listening to the gentle rumble of Nugget snoring across her legs.
“C’mon,” she whispers, nudging forty kilos of golden retriever. “Up, soldier.”
He groans dramatically but eventually heaves himself upright, stretching long and slow, tail thumping once like he’s forgiving her for waking him.
Billie pulls on charcoal-grey high-waisted shorts and a peach coloured sports bra, slipping into her favourite white sneakers as Nugget yawns beside her. She gathers her hair into a long, tight braid that swings down her spine, grabs her gym bag, drops a kiss to Nugget’s head, and makes her way out the door.
Outside, the world is washed in pale dawn — the sky a watercolor blend of periwinkle and gold. The air smells cool and faintly sweet, a rare quiet stretching across L.A.
It’s forever her favourite hour.
She reaches the neighbourhood gym at 5:20 a.m. It’s empty except for two die-hard regulars, the soft hum of overhead lights, and the faint citrus-cleaner scent clinging to the rubber mats.
Her sneakers whisper across the floor as she starts her warm-up — the cool knurling of the barbell grounding her palms, muscles lengthening through slow deadlifts, hamstring bridges, Bulgarian squats. Her mind settles the way it only does when her body is working.
She’s adjusting the weight plates at the leg press machine when her phone buzzes.
FaceTime: Dad.
A smile blooms instantly. She answers quickly, warmth spreading through her chest when he appears on the screen.
He’s sitting in the kitchen — warm late-night light casting golden halos over the cabinets. Navy T-shirt, salt-and-pepper hair, glasses perched low on his nose, posture unmistakably straight from decades of command.
“Billie Rae,” he says, voice a soft rumble laced with pride.
“Up before half the world. That’s my girl.”
She beams. “Even halfway across the world, you’re still inspecting me.”
“As is my duty,” he replies with a stiff little nod that makes her laugh. “Your mother already turned in, but she told me to tell you she loves you, she misses you, and she thinks Nugget needs a haircut.”
Billie snorts. “He does.”
They talk — really talk.
About Mum’s new garden project. About Bradley nearly destroying the kitchen trying to build a frog sanctuary for the kids. About Kiara insisting mermaids exist and Harrison wanting to be a pirate. Her dad tells her about an old friend who’s just become a grandfather for the first time. She fills him in on work, on Bec and Sloane’s antics, on the new couch she still hasn’t stopped fussing over.
The call is warm and easy — fifteen, twenty minutes slipping past before she even realizes it, having moved through two new exercises while they spoke.
Eventually, her dad studies her with that keen, captain’s eye she both loves and fears.
“You seem… lighter today.”
“Do I?”
“Mmhmm. Like someone had a damn fine weekend.”
Billie’s cheeks warm. “…Maybe.”
His eyebrow lifts — sharply, knowingly.
“Define ‘maybe.’”
“Dad…”
“I’m listening.”
She sighs, glancing around the empty gym. “There’s someone. We’ve gone out a few times. He’s… good. And I like being around him.”
Her dad leans back, expression softening without losing that Navy steadiness.
“Well,” he murmurs, “even a captain knows when to weather a storm — and when to trust the current.”
Billie’s heart squeezes at how his advice is always somehow nautical. “Yeah.”
“You’ll navigate it fine,” he says, certain. “You always do.”
She smiles, breath catching. “I love you, Dad. Give Mum my love too.”
“Will do. Love you, Billie Rae. Finish strong.”
The call ends, leaving the gym warmer somehow.
Billie exhales, catching herself smiling at nothing — or at something with broad shoulders, a Texas drawl, and a weekend carved into her skin like sunshine. She tells herself it’s just endorphins.
It’s not just endorphins.
She resets her grip on the rower handle — the textured rubber biting pleasantly against her fingers — and finishes her workout with steadier breath.
By 6:30 a.m. she’s back home and showered, dressed in her black clinic polo and gym shorts, braid re-done and swinging neatly down her back. She clips on Nugget’s harness and slips her headphones over her ears as they step out into the soft morning light.
They walk through the neighbourhood — sunlight spilling over rooftops, warming the pavement. The early light hits Nugget’s fur just right, turning him into a glowing, honey-coloured lion.
“You’re dramatic,” she mutters.
Nugget pauses to look at his reflection in a parked car window… and wags approvingly.
Of course he does.
By the time they reach their usual café, the scent of coffee wafts out the door — rich, warm, irresistible. The bell above it jingles as she steps inside.
The chalkboard reads:
Better latte than never.
Billie groans, pointing. “Maya, that physically hurts.”
Maya grins from behind the machine. “Your suffering nourishes me.”
“Maya, please.”
“The usual? Single or double shot today?”
“Double. Always on Tuesdays.”
As she steams the milk, Maya eyes her. “You look… happier today. Like someone finally slept?”
Billie runs a hand over her braid, sheepish. “Maybe.”
“Ohhh,” Maya teases. “Is that a maybe maybe?”
“Don’t start.”
Maya laughs and slides over Billie’s latte, then reaches for the treat jar and pulls out a comically oversized star-shaped biscuit.
“For your majestic son.”
Nugget sits taller — practically regal — as she hands it to him. Billie laughs. “He’s spoiled.”
“He’s the reason this café is still running.”
Billie waves goodbye, latte in hand, and she and Nugget continue their loop — both visibly happier from caffeine and a biscuit.
Back home, she kisses Nugget’s head as he collapses onto the couch like he’s completed a marathon. She grabs her things and heads out to open the clinic.
By 7:30 a.m., the clinic gym is buzzing — lights bright, pop music thumping softly, citrus-scented sanitizer lingering.
Six college athletes quickly pile in like erratic puppies with protein shakes, each one bringing their own brand of chaos.
JJ barrels through the door first — a defensive lineman built like a moving wall, tall and broad with thick, powerful shoulders and the softest, gentlest eyes. He smells faintly of eucalyptus rub and determination.
“Mornin’, boss,” he rumbles, dropping his bag with a thud that shakes the floor.
Troy follows right on his heels — wiry and restless, curls flattened on one side like he lost a fight with his pillow. Even with his hamstring strain, he walks like someone convinced the world is his sprint track.
“Coach B! Celebrate me, I’m early!”
“I’m not your coach,” Billie mutters.
“Spiritually, you are” he says, immediately picking up a foam roller.
Miles slips in behind him — tall and lean with swimmer’s shoulders and damp blond hair from a pool session this morning, already wearing his signature expression: mild disdain at existence.
“If I die today, someone better tell my mother I was murdered,” he announces.
“You’re not dying,” Billie replies, deadpan.
“We’ll see.”
Then comes Dante — lanky, long-limbed, still growing into his own body. A basketball forward who looks capable of dunking but moves like a baby giraffe wearing rollerblades. He bumps the doorframe with his shoulder as he enters.
“Who moved the wall?” he mutters.
“No one moved the wall,” Billie says, already smiling
Riley walks in next, shoulders back, ponytail sharp, legs strong and sculpted — the only girl in the group and the undisputed queen. Even with the lingering quad strain she’s rehabbing, she moves with the confident precision of a seasoned sprinter.
“Morning, Billie,” she says, giving her a small grin.
“Morning, Riles,” Billie replies.
“How’s the quad feeling?”
Riley nods, “Better every day”
“That’s because you’re the only one in this room who does their rehab exactly the way I ask.”
The boys groan. Riley glows.
And last — because he always arrives last — Cade saunters in.
All linebacker build, sun-warmed skin, messy brown hair he pretends isn’t intentional, and a moon boot he somehow still makes look charming. He leans in the doorway like he’s posing for a magazine cover.
Billie doesn’t even look up. “Fix your boot strap.”
Cade presses a hand to his heart. “Darlin’, at least pretend you’re happy to see me.”
“Fix it.”
Riley snorts. “She’d be happier if you stopped arriving like you’re making a grand entrance.”
Cade smirks. “Can’t dim natural star power.”
Billie claps once — sharp, commanding. “Stations. Move.”
They move out across the gym, settling into their usual spots with practiced ease — and predictable chaos.
“JJ — cable chops. Slow and controlled.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he rumbles, already setting the weight too high. She lowers it without comment. He pretends not to notice.
“Troy — sled push. Light load. And I mean light.”
He gasps, clutching his chest. “Billie, you know my speed is my core identity.”
“It was. Before the hamstring pull Troy.”
Miles gets band shoulder rotations.
“Full reps,” she warns.
He groans. “This feels personal.”
“It is,” Riley calls from across the room, already warming up.
“Dante — TRX single leg squats. Remember control through the hip.”
“I’ll try,” he says, immediately tangling himself in the straps.
“Riley — sliders and lateral lunges. Show them how it's done.”
She smirks. “Always.”
“And Cade — start with your upper body work. Seated rows, press-outs, scapular control.”
Cade smirks. “Whatever you say. I’m all yours for the next forty-five.”
“Unfortunate for both of us.”
Billie moves through the gym with practiced ease — tapping a hip here, correcting Troy’s posture there, steadying Dante’s knee as he bends — the quiet authority of someone who knows every inch of this room and everyone in it.
Then she circles back to Cade.
She steps beside him as he starts his first row, adjusting his elbow.
“No — drop the shoulder. Pull from here. Keep your ribs down.”
He tries again — slower, more controlled. Perfect.
He looks up, grin slow and wicked, voice dropping.
“Look at that,” he murmurs. “One touch from you and suddenly my form’s perfect, darlin’.”
Billie freezes.
A blink.
A breath caught.
A half-second too still.
Because darlin’ said like that — that exact warm, unhurried Texas lilt — echoes Glen so precisely her breath stumbles.
Troy stops mid-sled push, looking across the gym. “Uh… did Billie just glitch?”
Miles stares. “She paused. She never pauses.”
JJ frowns. “Boss? You okay?”
Before she can gather herself, Cade lifts his brows, grin stretching.
“Well damn. If I’d known callin’ you darlin’ was enough to get that reaction, I’d’ve done it sooner.”
A warm flush creeps up her neck. Barely. But enough.
She claps sharply. “Focus! Next set. Move.”
They scatter — somewhat.
She walks past Cade, pulse finally steadying — until he murmurs under his breath, low and smug:
“Didn’t realize gettin’ under your skin’d be that easy, Coach… but damn, it’s a good look on you.”
Billie’s breath stutters — once — before she forces her posture steady.
Riley glides by, whispering, “Your face did a thing.”
“It didn’t,” Billie mutters.
“It did,” Riley sings. “And I loved it.”
“Riley—”
“Relax. The boys are clueless. I’m not.”
Billie points toward the sliders. “Back to work.”
“Still your favourite?” Riley grins, already moving.
“Unfortunately.”
They continue through the last rounds of rehab — JJ grunting through static holds, Troy pushing the sled like he’s racing someone, Miles fighting his band like it personally offended him, Dante knocking over the stack of foam rollers but still somehow completing his set, Riley flawless as always. Billie floats through them, tapping knees, correcting angles, counting tempo, fully back in command.
By 8:15 she claps once, crisp and final. “That’s it guys, all done. Clean your stations and get out before I make you all do core.”
Groans ripple across the room.
Troy dramatically collapses onto the sled.
Miles thanks God.
Dante thanks Billie.
Riley smirks.
Cade gives her one last maddening grin on his way out.
The gym finally empties.
Billie slips into her office with a long breath, drops into her chair, braid sliding over her shoulder. She takes a last sip of her now lukewarm coffee—
Her phone buzzes.
Glen.
Her pulse gives a warm little jump. She hadn’t seen him since the weekend, though they’d been trading messages on and off since Sunday — easy, teasing, warm.
She opens his message.
Glen:
How’s your day goin’, peach?
Still wranglin’ your favourite Tuesday class?
She bites a smile.
Billie:
Always.
They’re convinced flirting will get them out of rehab today.
Three dots appear instantly.
Glen:
Lord.
Should I be jealous?
Or grateful you shut them down before they embarrass themselves?
She laughs softly.
Billie:
Grateful, probably.
Their flirting is… not good.
Glen:
Yeah, well — no offense to the children, but they’re out of their league.
You’re somethin’ else, peach.
Her cheeks warm.
Billie:
You’re biased.
Glen:
Damn straight I am.
Someone’s gotta appreciate you properly.
She presses her lips together, flustered in the best way.
Billie:
What are you doing today?
Glen:
Thinkin’.
About food.
About you.
’Bout maybe feedin’ you.
It’s a real busy day up here.
Her breath catches — soft and warm.
Billie:
Oh yeah?
That’s a big to-do list.
Glen:
It gets bigger.
You free tonight?
Her stomach flips.
Billie:
I might be.
Why?
Glen:
I need your mouth.
Billie chokes on absolutely nothing.
Her heart jumps into her throat.
Before she can recover—
Glen:
For tasting, darlin’.
Keep it together, now.
Smash Kitchen’s doin’ its first private tasting tonight.
She covers her eyes, mortified and grinning at the same time.
Billie:
You cannot just start with that.
Glen:
Oh, I can.
And I did.
You should see your face in my imagination right now.
Adorable.
She shakes her head, smile pressed into her palm.
Then the warmth hits quietly.
Smash Kitchen.
She remembers him talking about it — excited, boyish, proud.
How he loved cooking.
How he wanted sauces that tasted like home and heat and real flavour.
How the name made him laugh.
How he’d been working on it in secret for months.
Tonight is a big moment.
Billie:
That’s tonight?
Glen, that’s amazing.
I’d love to come.
Glen:
Good.
’Cause I want you there, peach.
Need someone honest.
Someone brave.
Someone who’ll look me dead in the eye and say,
“Glen, this sauce tastes like disappointment.”
She snorts quietly.
Billie:
I can do that. Gently.
Glen:
I like your gentle.
I like your not-gentle too.
Her cheeks heat again.
Billie:
So… 6pm?
Glen:
Hell yes.
Wear somethin’ you can eat in.
Wear somethin’ you like.
Wear somethin’ that— actually, no.
Wear whatever you want.
I’ll be outta my mind either way.
Her smile blooms helplessly.
Billie:
You’re trouble.
Glen:
And you like me anyway.
She hesitates — one gentle beat.
Billie:
…Maybe.
He replies instantly.
Glen:
That’s Billie-talk for “yes.”
Also—
I missed you today.
Her breath catches again — soft, sweet, warm.
Billie:
I missed you too.
The typing bubble appears immediately — like he’d been waiting for that.
Glen:
Careful now, darlin’.
You keep sayin’ things like that,
and I’m liable to get real attached.
Billie closes her eyes, smiling softly, heart fluttering.
Billie:
Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.
Silence.
Then—
Glen:
I'll pick you up at 6pm.
And peach?
Can’t wait to see you.
Billie sets her phone down, chest warm, breath a little lighter, smile impossible to hide.
Summary: Requested: Robby has a rough day, but instead of going to the roof, he goes to the L&D floor to look at the babies in the nursery (maybe he helped deliver one that day) and a cute, young nurse in pink scrubs comes out to talk with him and makes him feel better. Maybe she asks him to coffee after their shifts.
Warnings: death (no child death), talks of birth (not descriptive), depression
Death was a guarantee in the ER. It was always lurking around the corner. Most of the time, it was an enemy. Rarely, a friend at the end. Robby had learned to treat it like a coworker. One that he didn’t particularly like, that was greedy and a busybody, but easily handled.
On occasion, they were reminded of the good in the world. They were there for the beginning. A birth in the ER was a rare and not entirely unwelcome occurrence. Most people came in through the ER and were quickly transferred to L&D. However, babies can be impatient. The days when they had a successful birth, the whole department seemed to lighten.
Robby stood over his third loss of the day. The man, no, boy was no older than twenty-two. His whole life had been waiting for him. They had coded him for the better part of two hours. Longer than was necessary, longer than anyone else would have given the boy.
Just before they had wheeled the boy into doom Robby, he had delivered a healthy baby girl. He had been walking with a little more bounce in his step. He loved the look on the new parents' faces when he handed them their baby. It gave him hope for some good in the future.
He should have known better than to think it would be a good shift.
His shift had finally come to an end. He found himself needing to check on his patient. It was an odd sensation to him. He didn’t often think about his patients once they had been transferred. It was a boundary he had set for himself early in his career. If they were alive when they left his hands, they would stay that way in his mind.
He found himself getting out of the elevator, not entirely remembering getting into it. He wandered over to the nursery window. The babies squirming and scrunching their faces forced a smile from him.
They had no idea what they were about to go through. He found himself fighting back tears.
“Which one is yours?” A woman with pink scrubs and a warm smile appeared next to him.
“Huh? Oh! None.” Robby cleared his throat. He suddenly felt like he was breaking the law.
“Oh! No, you’re from downstairs! Yeah, I just did the transfer from the ED delivery. Dr. Robinoevitch?”
“Robinavitch. Robby is fine.” He smiled.
“Sorry. I’m terrible with names. I should be better with how many I deal with.” She laughed. The kind of laugh that made everyone in a 20ft radius laugh with her.
“It’s a hard one.”
“Robinavitch? Not even close.” She shook her head. “Were you checking on your girl?”
“I, uh, yeah. I guess. I don’t really do that, but something felt wrong about going home without seeing her one more time.” He nodded. She could see the redness in his eyes.
“She’s the one in the corner, over there.” The nurse pointed to the last baby in the right corner. She was swaddled in a soft pink blanket, fast asleep despite the cries of her neighbors.
“She looks healthy. Looks happy.” Robby gave a curt nod as he tried to stop the emotions from boiling over.
“Yeah. Perfect bill of health. Same with mom. They named her Elizabeth.”
“Good name.”
“I like it. Cool people get named Elizabeth.” She smirked. “That’s my name, I might be biased.”
“Sounds like it.” Robby smiled.
“Rough shift?” She asked as she watched him rub the tears from his eyes.
“They’re all rough.” He cleared his throat.
“I’m sure. You guys only see worst-case scenarios.”
“You get used to it.” Robby sighed.
“Doesn’t look like it.” Elizabeth noted. “That’s okay too.”
“Do you moonlight in psych or something?”
“Ha! Only as a patient. I just listen to my therapist.” She laughed.
“Do you…do you ever feel guilty for bringing them into all this? Like, we should have done something to prevent all the pain they will absolutely go through?” Robby rambled, his chest tight and his hands shaking.
“Yeah, all the time. But the only way we can get better is if we move forward. Birth is movement; it’s pushing for something greater than ourselves. Sure, some of them are doomed to unhappiness. But some aren’t. Isn’t that worth it?” Elizabeth felt herself getting emotional.
“Well put.”
“I minored in English.” She bit her lip as she thought for a moment. “Look, this might be forward or against the rules, I don’t know. But, I’m clocking out right now. Do you want to get some coffee and commiserate?”
Robby looked at her, surprised. The last thing he had expected when he got up to the nursery was a date.
“Oh. Um…”
“You can say no. I’m a big girl. Don’t worry about it.”
“No! I mean, yes. I would like that. Coffee.” Robby smiled.
“Okay. I’ll just grab my stuff and we can go.” She smiled as she ran off, leaving Robby looking at the babies.
Summary: An unexpected ally goes to bat for you during your beard hearing.
Companion piece to:
Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.
Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.
The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.
Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.
Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.
Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.
Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.
Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.
Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.
Diamonds - John's friend and rival makes you an offer you can't refuse.
The Stethoscope - John's world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.
Elderberry Wine - You come home to find John waiting for you.
Sex, Lies and Cocaine Dreams - John takes his revenge on the man that shattered your dreams.
It’s by the sheer grace of God that you end up with Wild Willy on your review board.
That man is salt of the earth, you’re told by Mark Greene when he informs that they’ll be making a decision later that day. This is the best possible triumvirate you could have hoped for.
Morgenstern who’s seen your exemplary work in action.
O’Hara who would rather be at lunch than drag out a lengthy hearing
And Wild Willy, a man who grew up piss poor in Canaryville, paying his way through Med School by patching up boxers in his spare time at local gyms in the area. If there’s anyone that can appreciate your journey it’s him.
He makes that abundantly clear during your hearing. He understands you, the sacrifices you’ve made, the hurdles you face. He makes sure the others understand you too. He drowns out their protests about common decency and the calibre of person suited to the profession and reminds them of your transcripts, your mentor reports and your capacity to stay calm under pressure, especially when all this shit is falling down around your head.
“Do you really want to penalise her because she’s poor?” He asks them outright. “Or do you want to be the one that says I did that when she starts presenting papers that advance the field.”
“You think she’s that good?” O’Hara asks, tapping his pen on the surface of the table.
“Here’s a draft of a paper she was co-authoring with Doctor Lewis before she was suspended.” Willy pushes a small stack of paperwork towards them. He sits back in his seat as the other men flick through it.
“She’s third year, this level of detail… It’s impressive.” Morgenstern states as he scrutinizes the notes. “They don’t usually start working in papers until their fourth year and even then…” He pulls a face as he studies your work. “They’re nothing like this.”
“We’d be letting go of a good one.” Willy informs them, his fingertips rapping out a tune on the manilla folder. “Probably even a great one.”
“But the dancing…” O’Hare chimes in.
“A ‘needs must’ situation.” Willy reminds him before looking pointedly at the $500 dollar tie the other man is wearing. “Maybe it’s time to get off your high horse and step into the real world with the rest of us. It’s not easy if you don’t have family money-” He tosses your budget sheet across the table. “You can see what she’s living off, it’s not enough and that’s a fault in our system, not with her mismanaging money. Every penny is accounted for and there’s still a deficit.”
“Look.” Morgenstern says as he leans forward, his elbows coming to rest upon the table. “We have to show that this sort of behaviour is not tolerated-”
“We can give her a warning.” Willy bats back.
“The dancing will have to stop.” Morgenstern continues, straightening the papers in front of him. “We can’t have the profession associated with it, it look bad for all of us.”
“Did you not hear me explain the deficit?” Willy responds, pointing at the final figure on the bottom of the budget sheet. “The dancing is the only thing that keeps food on the table and her from freezing to death in the winter.”
O’Hara opens his mouth to speak but Willy cuts him off with a raised finger. “Do not tell me that’s what shelters are for or so help me God-”
“Alright, I can see this is getting a little heated.” Morgenstern butts in, his voice carrying throughout the room. He’s chair of this hearing, he has the final say. “The terms are this, we let her off with a warning and the dancing stops otherwise she’s excluded from the program. That’s the best we can do.”
“Well our best isn’t good enough.” Willy huffs sagging back in his seat.
“It’s what we’ve got to work with.” Morgenstern says as he raises to his feet, signalling the end of the meeting. “Now do you want to give her the good news or should I?”
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Summary: John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.
Companion piece to:
Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.
Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.
The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.
Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.
Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.
Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.
Strip clubs have never been John’s thing. He doesn’t see the point in shelling out hundreds of dollars to get your dick teased all night and if he’s honest, every single place he’s been to for a stag party or birthday, it’s always seedy. The stuff that his friends, especially the would-be grooms get up to in the champagne rooms, it should be illegal.
When he receives the invitation to a burlesque show, he thinks it’s going to be more of the same. His friend Burkey from the country club is getting married to a debutante and he wants to go out in style.
The event itself… it’s nothing like he expected.
The private club plays into its namesake as a 1930s speakeasy, the only way to access it is through an innocuous door in an alleyway with a password that’s been given to you upon booking. Something you’ve paid an insane amount of money for the privilege of.
Descending those steps through, it’s like entering another world, one with the glitz and glamour of the period. Fringed chandeliers hang from the ceiling emitting a dulcet glow throughout the venue, the seating is all chocolate brown leather reminding him of the men’s only smoking rooms his father likes to visit to get away from his mother. The walls are painted a rich, dark shade of cranberry, fixed with mirrors buffeted with expensive mahogany and plush live foliage that adds a certain element of luxury to the room. The floor is original tile all the way back from the era when the venue used to be an real actual speakeasy.
When his party is guided to their tables, he finds himself right at the forefront of the action, sitting in front a small stage with a plush red velvet curtain that hangs along the back, shielding the performers from view. A drink is poured for him from ta ten thousand dollar bottle of bourbon and a box of Cohiba Behike cigars retailing fifteen grand is placed alongside the table’s tiffany lamp.
The excitement is palpable in the air as the music starts, the opening bars to Peggy Lee’s Fever.
The curtains part to reveal a single performer, an artist’s easel stands in the right corner with a glossy black poster with her name written in dozens of silver sparkles.
Introducing Crystal Heart…
It’s the dress that captures his attention first, it’s a nude tone that’s speckled with thousands of tiny crystals that glitter like diamonds as the spotlight fastens on the dancer. The corset clings to her in a way that’s beyond sinful, highlighting a choker dripping with jewels that extends all the way down her décolletage. His gaze lowers to the skirt that parts just under her navel, the split revealing matching crystal covered underwear you catch a glimpse of everytime she moves.
It’s too much and not enough all at the same time.
His eyes flicker up to her face as her teeth fasten on the fingertip of one of the elbow length gloves, those fire engine red lips frame a sultry smile as she tugs and his heart it stops beating in his chest because the woman he’s watching, the one he had a raging hard on for, it’s you.
His Crys.
Your hair is perfectly coiffed in 1930s curls, your eyes highlighted in a sultry grey with black winged liner, you’ve even included a tiny beauty mark on your left cheek. But John, he’d know that face anywhere.
He dreams about it every night.
He almost drops his glass, but his grip tightens at the last second because the expression on your face as you tug off that glove, pulling it taunt between your breasts… It almost has him coming in his pants. You toss the glove at the groom and Burkey grins like a fucking idiot, crooking his finger at you.
You give him a salacious smile as you wag your finger ‘no’ and he pouts like a toddler being denied his favourite candy. Its all forgotten a second later as you run your hands over your body reminding them there is far much more to see.
It’s the skirt that goes next, your hips sway in time with the music drawing everyone’s attention to the glittering underwear between your thighs as you unhook it.
John’s cock leaks at the sight of that jewel encrusted pussy just waiting for his mouth to get all over it. You turn around so he can see the satin ribbon of the corset, cinching the damn thing together. It drapes over that perfect heart shaped ass of yours clad in glittering translucent panties, he wants to take off with his teeth.
You glance over your shoulder as you drop the skirt, your eyes meeting his for the first time that night. He expects you to be startled, to be bashful but you get a little bit of the devil in you instead.
You twirl on the spot, before sashaying towards him with a focus that lights up every single nerve ending in his body. You pluck a lit cigar from the ashtray of his table before putting it between your lips and taking a long drag as you slide your foot out of your bejewelled shoe and place it between his legs.
“Help a girl out Carter.” You say gesturing at the glittering translucent stocking attached to the suspender belt just underneath the corset. His dick jumps at the order, his palms cupping your calf lightly, his fingertips chasing the seam all the way up to the lace top as you lean in close so you can look into his eyes.
This close he can smell the scent of your perfume, something dark, something seductive. It’s sends a tingle down his spine as he unfastens the first clip.
“I know you don’t see me a sexual being.” You whisper, blowing a stream of smoke into his face. He drinks it down like it’s oxygen, drawing it into his lungs like a drug as the second clip comes undone. His cock strains at his zipper, his hips practically arching as your thumbs hook in the lace band guiding it down your thigh until it’s a deviant balled up wad resting against his crotch. “But maybe this will change your mind.”
You switch legs, slipping your foot back into your shoe before raising the other. His attention is drawn the next set of clips, his fingertips trailing underneath the elastic before he continues his task.
“That’s where you’re wrong Crys.” He says with a feral smile as he guides the stocking down your thigh this time, his strong dexterous fingers leaving a heated trail that leaves you wet for him. “Every night I jerk off to thought of getting on my knees and drawing those scrubs down your thighs. I don’t come until you do with my tongue thrust inside you, making you say my name.”
Your breath catches and across the table he can feel Burkey’s gaze boring into him as he cups your ankle, pulling the stocking from your foot. He holds it up between two fingers for you to see before he snatches up the other one from between his thighs and tucks them into his pocket.
“You want these back you know where to find me.” He murmurs before taking the cigar from your lips, placing it between his own. He can taste your lipstick on the butt and he knows he’ll never be able to smoke a Cohiba Behike without thinking of this night, of the woman he loves drenched in crystals as she undresses for him. “Your move princess.”
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Summary: John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.
Companion piece to:
Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.
The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.
Carter wakes up with a hangover, the worst one he’s ever had, in a strange bed with a searing sensation in his chest and half of his clothes missing. His white shirt hangs open, his trousers are lord knows where and there’s a woman tucked in against his side, her legs tangled with his.
She mumbles in her sleep, tilting her head up towards him and that’s when he realises, that woman, it’s you.
You’re wearing a University of Chicago t-shirt that just about covers your ass and nothing else which only adds fuel to fire that is the raging hard on trying to jut its way out of his boxer shorts. There’s a damp spot already, pre-cum soaking through the fabric because he can feel your nipples against his chest, the heat of your core against his thigh. The worst part is you’re wet and it just plays into all the filthy fantasies he’s ever had about waking up in this exact situation with you.
Count the machines in the ED, he tells himself. List them, check them off…
That thought goes out the window when you stir again, your hand accidently caressing his dick. He bites his bottom lip to stifle his moan but it’s too late, the sound wakes you causing your head to lift off his shoulder suddenly.
It takes you two seconds to realise what’s happening before you pull away from him, he mourns the loss but he understands it because the last thing he was expecting when the two of you headed out to the bar last night was to end up in your bed.
“What the fuck…” You erupt, your hand scrubbing over your face as you cover your lower half up with the comforter from the bottom of the bed.
“Look nothing happened as far as I can tell.” He tries to reassure you before he gestures at his tented boxers. “And this is just a morning reaction-”
“Not that!” You tell him dismissing his throbbing cock completely to point at something on his chest. “I mean that.”
He props himself up on his elbows, his head tipping down to look at his chest. His gaze catches the flash of fresh ink on his left pectoral. It’s a heart, not half of one but a full one. The outer edge is drawn in ornate olive leaves, each one coloured in sage green. Your name is written in an italic font in the centre as if crafted by a sloped hand.
Crys.
“Fuck… Did I…?” You paw at the neck of your t-shirt, peering through the gap at your own chest.
A memory hits John like a freight train as he reaches out and grabs your wrist turning it over to show you your own tattoo. A delicate set of three forget-me-nots etched into your skin. It’s beautiful, the sky blue petals contrasting against the pinprick yellow centres, the stems a thin line of black with a green leaf or two.
Carter he grew up in high society, he knows exactly what they symbolise.
Constancy, enduring affection and love.
True love.
He thinks he explained that to you last night when you chose them.
“I gave you flowers and you gave me your heart.” He whispers as he recalls your fingers lacing with his, the rotary pen buzzing in his ears. He didn’t even feel the pain, he was just happy to belong to you, to have the proof of it written on his chest.
“I actually really like mine.” You tell him as his thumb chases over the hollow of your wrist. “Yours though…”
“You don’t like it?” He asks, tilting his head to look at it again.
“I do it’s just… it’s going to raise a lot of questions for the next woman you sleep with.”
“I’ll just tell her the truth.” He says sagging back into the pillows, his head spinning. “It’s for my best friend, the one that's helping me become a doctor.”
“You don’t have to keep it.” You say softly, settling down beside him. He turns onto his side to face you as you drape part of the comforter over him, hiding his lingering stiffness.
“I know.” He tells you as he snuggles down into the pillow, his eyes fixed on yours so you can see the sincerity in them. “But I want to.”
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Summary: You comfort John after the death of a patient.
Companion piece to:
Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.
The first death is always the hardest.
For you it was a 35 year old soccer mom, her two kids in the waiting room with their father when Dr Lewis had coached you into delivering the news.
For John it’s a high school kid, still wearing his gym shorts because he was heading to an early morning basketball game when the car hit him.
It’s a tough one to start with and it gets worse when he misidentifies him. It’s an easy mistake, the damage form the car accident distorted some of the facial features. When he shows you the year book afterwards you could barely tell the difference between the two teens.
Still a young death it weighs heavy and you can see that in him as he persists with his shift. He’s quieter, more reserved, his shoulders slumped making his 6’1 frame look smaller as he hunches over his text book, a highlighter in his hand, seeing but not reading.
“Hey.” You say softly, your palm coming to rest on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. You can feel the tension in his muscles as your thumb slowly traces a reassuring circle at the nape of his neck. “The first one is always the hardest.”
He sighs relaxing into your touch before you pull away and take the seat alongside him.
“He was just a kid.” He says helplessly. “One day he was just going about his life and the next…”
“I know.” You say, your hand coming to rest upon his. “It makes it all that more harder because there isn’t really any rhyme or reason to it. It just happens.”
“And how do you reconcile with that? How do you move past it?” He asks squeezing your fingers lightly.
“You do the best you can.” You tell him, dipping your head so that you meet his eyes. They’re darker today, tinged with a sadness that no one in this world can take away. A loss like this, it needs to be felt, to be endured so you know how to handle it the next time. “And sometimes you go out with a friend and get really freaking drunk. I’m talking messy, I don’t remember where that tattoo came from drunk.”
“What tattoo would we even get…” He ponders as he leans in close, your heads bowed together conspiratorially.
“Well if we were going in together we would get one of those best friend necklaces, your know the ones that are split into two pieces. We’d get them right here-” You use your fingertip to trace a heart where his own resides inside his chest underneath his shirt. “-your half would have my name and my half would have your name.”
“That sounds romantic.” He tells you as you sign your name on the fabric of his shirt.
“If you believe in that sort of thing.” You shrug, drawing away.
“You don’t?” He asks, his chin coming to rest on his hand as you pick up his highlighter, toying with it.
“That is not my experience of the opposite sex.” You inform him, leaning back into your seat. “I know it’s different for you with all those society events. The women in your life probably have a lot of expectations, dinner, jewellery, flowers…”
“Noone’s ever bought you flowers?” He asks incredulously.
“My mom.” You say, the edge of your mouth tipping up into a smile. “She’s a real sweetheart.”
“Wow…” He says, sagging in his own seat as he digests that information. “Now I really need that drink.”
“Two hours.” You say as your pager goes off, stealing your attention. “Just two more hours and I’m all yours.”
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Summary: You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.
Empathy is John’s superpower, you see it in the way he is with Mary Cartwright. How he sits with her, sings with her. The two of them together, it’s harmony, a balance of baritone and perfect pitch.
“You sung acapella in college didn’t you?” You remark later on when he’s laying back on a gurney, his arm flung over his eyes and a flush creeping across his cheeks because he’s naked waist down in front of you for the first time.
“You can tell that from looking at my dick?” He mumbles, his teeth grinding together as he feels the swab around the area he really does not want a swab.
“I could tell from the fact you knew all the lyrics to Glenn Miller.” You inform him, mentally counting each twist so his attention stays firmly fixed on your words. “I do approve of Ella Fitzgerald though.”
“It’s a pity she stopped preforming last year otherwise I could have got you tickets-” He hisses through his teeth as you withdraw the swab before placing it inside the sterilised tube to go up to the lab.
“All done now.” You say kindly, turning your back so he can redress. “I’m guessing the burning sensation was courtesy of Liz.”
“Yeah.” He says quietly, fabric rustling as he pushes himself off the gurney. “I should of known better but no one wants to date a third year med student with no life.”
“Tell me about it.” You respond, writing his details on the tube with the ballpoint pen you keep in your top pocket at all times. “I would have thought they’d come running at you though, you’re handsome, rich, you even look good in those ridiculous suspenders of yours.”
He barks out a laugh as he tugs them up over his shoulders, using his palm to smooth them over his chest.
“I think they make me look distinguished.” He tells you as you turn around to face him with a sample bottle in your hand. He takes it from you, tucking it into his pocket for when he needs to use the bathroom.
“They make me wanna do this.” You say, hooking your finger underneath one and twanging it. “Which I’m entitled to after spending the past few minutes making my acquaintance with Little John down there.”
“I really do appreciate that.” He tells you, his cheeks reddening once more. “I just took one look at the swab…”
He huffs out a long breath as he shakes his head.
“I get it, it’s different when it’s on yourself.” You tell him before you take something out of your lab coat, handing it to him. He looks down at his palm, frowning at the foil wrappers.
Condoms, about half a dozen of them.
“For next time.” You say, shrugging your shoulders. “Until Liz gets herself sorted.”
“Oh trust me.” He says slipping them into his pocket as he thinks about Liz, the smile she gave him when she followed Doctor Barlow into that examination room. “There won’t be a next time.”
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