Page 49 of Time for You
Desperate to lighten the mood, or at least shatter the tension a little, Daphne attempted to grin. “Are you so sure because you’ve time-traveled and kissed someone before?”
Henry’s face stayed deadly serious, his eyes burning into her. He stepped closer and she had to tilt her chin up to keep looking at him. “No. But I have had my heart broken, and I know—I can’t just kiss you, Daphne. It wouldn’t be just that.” He moved a lock of her hair back over her shoulder and his fingertips grazed the side of her neck. “You know that, and please don’t—don’t ask me to do something I can’t.”
“Okay,” she said in a tiny voice she barely recognized. She had barely even let herself think about the possibility of being with Henry, but he shut the door so firmly there was no point in trying to imagine what might be behind it. “Thank you for taking care of me last night.”
Henry looked impossibly sad. “Of course, my lady.”
Chapter Twenty
There generally weren’t any real “slow” shifts in the ER, but some were slower than others. Friday and Saturday nights tended to be a zoo, while midmorning during the week could be a little calmer. Some days, it was even calm enough for Daphne to sit down while eating her lunch, provided she didn’t plan to be seated for more than fifteen minutes.
On one such morning, just a few days after her talk with Henry, Daphne found herself able to sit down and eat the sandwich he’d packed her—he had moved to elaborate sandwiches featuring a curry-mayo sauce combination that were, quite frankly, the best thing she’d ever eaten—and even have enough time to check her phone. None of her shifts had been as bad as the one that night, but it still felt like there was something unfinished hanging over her.
On a whim, she typed “how to change residencies” into her search bar, but the first post that came up was just information on how to getintoa residency, which wasn’t helpful, and anyway, even if she did leave her program, she had no idea what she’d want in a different one. She had liked her peds rotation well enough, but she couldn’t handle the sadness of sick kids day in and day out. She liked the variety of the ER, the way she never quite knew what was coming; she just wanted more time, too. The next hit was a message board post from someone who had considered switching out of Emergency Medicine, and Daphne’s pulse started to race as she clicked the link. But the post itself was just the person saying they hadthoughtthey hated Emergency Medicine butdiscovered that, actually, it was just a rough adjustment period and they learned to love it and didn’t switch out after all.
Daphne’s heart sank just as Vibol walked in. “What are you looking up?” he asked, dropping into the chair next to her.
“Nothing,” she said, far too hastily. It felt like cheating, even considering switching programs. Their program director, Dr. Gupta, would be so disappointed, and Daphne couldn’t bear disappointing her like that. She knew people switched—sometimes just to a different program to be closer to a spouse or family, sometimes because they weren’t going to cut it in a super competitive field. Sometimes people switched because they hadn’t matched into their first-choice field and the second-choice program wasn’t a good fit.
But this was what Daphne had always wanted. She was in her first-choice program in her first-choice field, and leaving—no, she didn’t want to. It was nice of Henry to be there for her when she needed him, but leaving her program wasn’t the right way to fix things. Daphne had already gotten better at things since she started, so eventually—eventually—she’d fall in love with the job.
“How’s Michelle?” Daphne said, sugar sweet.
Vibol narrowed his eyes. “She’s good.”
“How good?”
“None-of-your-damn-business good.”
Daphne grinned, but before she could respond, Hannah stuck her head into the lounge. “We’re about to get a bus accident. City bus versus a pickup. Everyone survived, but some are banged up. EMTs say there’s nothing life threatening, but there were a bunch of high schoolers on the bus when it got hit, so it’ll be a lot of freaked-out parents.”
Vibol looked longingly at the sandwich he’d just pulled out—also a Henry-made specialty—and tossed it back into the fridge. “Guess we’re back at it now.”
“How are you doing, Mariana?” Daphne said, pulling back the curtain to a bed. On the bed was a teenage girl—fifteen, according to the chart—with an ashen cast to her olive skin. As Hannah had predicted, the ER had been a flurry of activity since the first ambulance arrived, and she’d seen Mariana almost an hour ago, ordering an X-ray and some painkillers for what was almost certainly a broken tibia.
“Better, Dr. Griffin,” she said quietly.
“Have you gotten a hold of your mom?”
Mariana nodded. “She had to talk to her boss, but he finally agreed to let her leave early.”
“Then I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” Daphne pulled up the report from Radiology and nodded to herself. “Looks like you do have a fractured tibia, so you’ll need a cast. But it doesn’t need to be reset, which is really, really good news for you.”
Mariana nodded again, but tears started leaking from the corners of her eyes.
“What’s wrong? Are you still in pain?” Daphne asked. Mariana shook her head rapidly, the tears coming faster now.
Daphne had about ten more patients to see, but she grabbed the stool and sat down next to Mariana’s bed. “Hey there, it’s okay,” she said gently. Mariana started reaching out, grasping at thin air, and Daphne let her take her hand. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” she murmured. “A broken leg sucks, but the cast won’t be on for too long.”
“It’s—not that.” Her patient hiccuped.
“Are you on a team? Is this going to mess up your season?” Daphne guessed. She wished she knew more about Mariana, so she could make her feel better without taking random stabs in the dark at what might be wrong.
“No, I’m just a nerd,” Mariana said with a watery chuckle. “A broken leg won’t stop me from being a Mathlete.”
Daphne smiled encouragingly. “That’s the spirit. It’s going to be okay, I promise,” she said, and squeezed her hand.
“I know, I’m just—it was so scary, and I feel—stupid. Nobody died, I’m fine, and I’m still so freaked out, and it’s just so stupid.”
