Page 65 of Well That Happened

We sit there in silence.

Then he asks, “You want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

He nods again. Doesn’t push.

“I lost a patient tonight,” I say finally. “Young. Healthy. Everything looked fine… until it wasn’t.”

His gaze doesn’t shift. Doesn’t flinch. Just stays on me, calm and grounded.

“It was horrible,” I whisper. “Feeling so helpless.”

“You’re human, Rilee.”

I look at him, startled.

His look softens. “Some things are supposed to shake you.”

My throat gets tight again.

I sip the tea to keep from crying. It’s warm, sharp, slightly sweet. It helps. A little.

I glance at him. “Why are you up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches the steam curl off my mug.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says eventually. “Old habit.”

I study him.

There’s more under that. So much more. But he’s not ready.

So I say nothing.

He leans back in his chair, arms folding loosely over his broad chest.

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he says, eyes still on mine. “Not tonight. But soon.”

And I believe him.

Because if there’s one thing about Grayson?

He never says anything he doesn’t mean.

The tea helps. Or maybe it’s just him.

We sit there until the warmth in my mug fades, and my bones start to feel too heavy to hold up.

“I should…” I start, voice quiet.

Grayson rises without a word.

I stand, but I wobble slightly on my feet—exhaustion crashing in hard now that the adrenaline’s gone.

He catches my elbow gently. “Come on.”

I let him guide me down the hallway.

---