Page 75 of Well That Happened

I huff out an exhale and flop dramatically back onto the bed.

Then I open a new message and text Caleb separately.

Me:Why isn’t anyone making fun of your “commitment to personalwellness”?

Caleb:Nah, that’s not wellness. My dick just has needs.

Argh! I groan.

I hate my life. I hate my life. I hate my life.

Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll stop blushing like crazy.

The next time I head to the bathroom, I find the shower blissfully, mercifully empty.

No sex toys.

No shirtless teammates.

No taunting laughter echoing from down the hall.

Just me, hot water, and the first deep breath I’ve taken in days.

I scrub every inch of embarrassment off my skin, lather up like I’m trying to erase the group chat from my brain, and stand under the water until it turns lukewarm and my fingers wrinkle.

When I finally emerge—fresh-faced, towel-wrapped, emotionally semi-recovered—I check my phone on the counter.

One new email.

Subject line:

“Offer of Employment – Coastal Women’s Health, San Diego”

My heart stops.

I open it with shaky fingers.

The position I applied to months ago. My dream position at a brand new facility.

Full-time position. OB rotation.

Start date: four months from now, after graduation.

All the way in California.

I stare at the screen, dripping on the floor.

This is what I’ve worked for. What I’ve been clawing my way toward for the past four years. My dream job. My next chapter.

And it feels like someone just dropped a weight on my chest.

Because suddenly four months doesn’t feel like later.

It feels like a countdown.

And this messy, complicated, beautiful chaos I’ve found myself tangled in?

It’s temporary.

---