Page 3 of A Prescription to My Heart

I grin. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

His jaw tightens. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I tilt my head. But the scowl on his face suggests he has absolutely no interest in playing nice.

I force a smile. “I just moved in next door, like I said, and since we work at the same hospital, I thought I’d introduce myself.”

Silence.

His expression doesn’t change.

I clear my throat. “I also brought cookies.”

Nothing.

I glance at the living room, catching a glimpse of a little girl with blonde curls peeking around the corner of the couch. Marigold Calloway. His eight-year-old daughter. I recognize her from when she came into the pediatric ward for her vaccines. She’s a sweet kid, always running up and down the hallways whenever she visits her dad’s office.

She gives me a little wave and a smile, but before I can even offer her a cookie, Soren exhales sharply.

“I don’t have time for,” he snaps. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with the rest of my night.”

All this is said as he gestures back toward the door still open behind me. I can’t even utter a word before I’m ushered out, and he is firmly in my face. Again!

Twice is the charm indeed.

Well. That went well.

***

Pediatrics hums with controlled chaos. The steady beeping of monitors, the murmur of parents asking questions, the occasional burst of a child’s laughter—this is my world. It smells like antiseptic and baby lotion, a weird mix of sterile and soft.

I check the time. Nearly noon. I’ve been on my feet since six, moving from patient to patient, charting vitals, soothing nervous parents. It’s a busy day, but I thrive on this. I love the rhythm, the energy, the small victories—like getting a toddler to take their meds without a full-scale meltdown.

And then, like a shift in the air pressure,hewalks in.

Dr. Soren Calloway.

The temperature seems to drop as he strides down the hall, long legs eating up the distance, a clipboard in one hand. His lab coat is crisp, his scrubs pristine, his expression unreadable.

Every nurse in the ward stiffens. A few exchange glances. One disappears into a supply closet.

I don’t blame them. TheDr. Calloway Effect.Nurses fear him, interns stammer in his presence, and residents scramble to keep up.

“Page Dr. Myers again. If he doesn’t answer in the next sixty seconds, I’ll do the procedure myself,” he barks orders to a nurse.

I glance up just as he passes the nurses’ station, his dark blue scrubs perfectly fitted to his tall frame. His jaw is sharp, his expression unreadable.

His eyes flicker over, briefly landing on me. No recognition. Not even a hint ofOh, hey, sorry I shut the door in your face. Twice.

I cross my arms.

“Dr. Calloway.” My voice is pleasant, polite. “Nice to see you again.”

He doesn’t even break stride. “Do I know you?”

I bristle.Wow.

“Nurse Talia Vance,” I say before he can get out of earshot. “Your new next-door neighbor. The one with the cookies!”

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