Page 182 of Well That Happened

She narrows her eyes. “You say that like it’s punishment.”

“It’s not. I’m just tired.”

“Long shift?”

I nod again.

She studies me a second longer. “You didn’t hate assisting on that dermal debridement, though. I saw your face when they let you stitch.”

Okay, so maybe she’s not completely oblivious.

“That was cool,” I admit. “Best part of the day.”

“And the worst?”

I consider lying. Saying something light.

But instead I mutter, “Probably the way I had to remind myself twelve times not to cry in the elevator.”

Jules leans back, her expression softening. “Is there someone back home? A boyfriend?”

My fingers tighten around my glass.

The question hits harder than I expected.

She’s trying to be casual—curious, not pushy—but the words echo. Someone back home. Someone. Singular.

I try to breathe through it.

Instead, my mind flashes to a memory—Christmas at Caleb’s parents’ house, the glow of the lights, the warmth of three bodies tangled together under a shared blanket. Laughter, whispered promises, the feeling of belonging. That was when everything started changing.

A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.

“Oh, Rilee, I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot.”

I shake my head, wiping the tear away. “No, it’s okay. It’s just… tough right now.”

I stare at the taco on my plate like it might offer me answers. “It’s just… hard right now. I left because I thought I had to.Because this was always the plan. And my relationship…” I word things carefully, “didn’t fit into that plan.”

Jules doesn’t say anything right away. Just sips her drink and watches me with more empathy than I expected. “Well,” she finally says, “if he was really it for you… maybe he’s not gone forever.”

I look at her. “You think?”

She shrugs, then grins. “Girl, I’ve seen patients come back from things they weren’t supposed to. Who’s to say love can’t too?”

I let the idea sit there—wobbly and terrifying and fragile.

She reaches across the table, placing a comforting hand over mine. “I’m here if you ever want to talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.”

I nod, grateful for her kindness. “Thanks, Jules.”

We sit in silence for a moment, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. I take a sip of my margarita, the tangy sweetness a small comfort.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Hunter

If one more person tells me to “just give it time,” I’m going to commit an actual felony.

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