Page 23 of No Greater Love
"I noticed that too." Maria's brow furrowed. "And Sophia hasn't responded to my text from yesterday. Just a thumbs-up emoji."
"Could be busy," I offered, though my own instincts were prickling. "Or bad cell service."
"Maybe." Maria scrolled further, unconvinced. "But Madison's been posting hourly updates, so the service can't be that bad. And look—this was from this morning. Sophia's in it, but she looks... off. And no Jack."
The photo showed Madison beaming in front of a vineyard, Sophia beside her with a smile that looked fine, superficially, but after years of knowing her, I recognized right away as her “just going through the motions” smile.
"Something's not right," Maria declared, maternal concern evident in her voice. "Sophia was so excited about this trip. About Jack's family."
"Could be jet lag," I suggested, but even I didn't believe it. In the years I'd known Sophia Mitchell, I'd never seen her rattled. Not during mass casualties, not during codes, not even when dealing with administration. Whatever had put that look on her face wasn't trivial.
"Mmm-hmm." Maria's skepticism matched my own. "You know Jack a bit, right?"
I nodded, remembering our brief conversations. The Kiwi paramedic had reminded me of the New Zealand Defense Force guys I'd worked with in Basrah rebuilding the hospital there—straightforward, competent, no bullshit. We weren't close, but there was a mutual respect there.
"We've talked a few times," I acknowledged. "Seems like a solid guy."
"Maybe you could check in with him? Casually?" Maria suggested, her expression all innocent concern, though I wasn't fooled by the matchmaker gleam in her eye. "Just to make sure everything's okay?"
I frowned. "Talked a few times" meant we'd exchanged probably fifty, maybe a hundred words. I wasn't one for inserting myself into other people's business in any circumstances, but here, the suggestion was particularly absurd. If my daily word count with people I genuinely cared about hovered around single digits, my desire to "check in" with an acquaintance was somewhere in the negative numbers. Paige would probably say I had the emotional involvement skills of a cactus.
But on the other hand, Sophia was a colleague I respected, someone who'd had my back more than once.
"I'm not one for getting involved in other people's business," I said, mirroring my internal dialogue, more in an effort to convince myself than Maria.
"It's not getting involved," she insisted. "It's showing concern for a colleague. Very professional."
She tilted her head, giving me that look I'd seen her use on reluctant specialists. "Besides, Sophia would do it for you in a heartbeat.”
Ooooooof.Thathurt. Damn it. Maria knew exactly which buttons to push. Sophiahadbeen there for me more times than I could count, never asking questions, just stepping up when needed.
"Fine," I grumbled. "Onetext. But I'm not playing relationship counselor."
Maria's victory smile was insufferable. "Of course not. Just checking in. Very casual. Very professional. Very demure."
I rolled my eyes as I walked away, but I was already composing the message in my head. Nothing intrusive, nothing that suggested I was prying. Just a casual check-in, one professional to another. As I rounded the corner toward the break room, I pulled out my phone.
Jack, mate. Nate Crawford here. Hope the trip's going well. Heard from Maria things might be a bit quiet on Sophia's end. Just checking in, make sure you're all showing her a good Kiwi welcome.
I hit send before I could overthink it, then tucked the phone away as the trauma alert sounded again. Whatever was happening in New Zealand would have to wait—Metro General's never-ending parade of emergencies demanded my full attention now.
A half hour later, I finally had a moment to check my phone. Jack had responded:
Jack
Bit of a hiccup, mate. Working through it. She's seeing the sights. Thanks for checking.
That confirmed my suspicions. Something had definitely happened. I hesitated, then sent what I thought was a safe closing message:
Hiccups happen. She's a tough one, our Sophia. You need anything, say the word. I've known her for years if you need advice.
There. Professional courtesy extended, obligation fulfilled. I slipped the phone back in my pocket, confident that would be the end of it. I was halfway through my charting when my phone buzzed again. Jack's name lit up the screen. My stomach dropped as I read his message:
Jack
Actually, mate, if you've got a minute, I could really use some insight. I lied to her about something really big. If you've seen her get really angry, what worked to get back in her good graces?
"Oh, you done fuckedup," I said aloud—and loudly—drawing startled looks from two of my nurses and a passing resident.
