Dr. Mason Hadley had never taken a resident on before. In fact, he still wasn’t sure why he had hired Olivia Goodson as his own. She was definitely smart, graduating from Johns Hopkins as the valedictorian. She was beautiful and charming, very friendly, and happy. He had never regretted taking her on, and since then, he hadn’t taken another resident on as his own. Something in him was drawn to her, and he wanted to figure it out. He wanted to figure her out. Three years later, he hadn’t really gotten anywhere. She was still a puzzle to him.

No doubt he would hire her to his diagnostics team once she had completed her residency. She was a damn good doctor and the patient’s seemed to trust her. That always worked to his advantage when he needed consent forms signed; Goodson was always good at that. As the years began to pass, he noticed something in her change. She seemed to get more distant, more quiet. Her beautiful eyes dimmed and her lips refused to smile. While they had always butted heads, she seemed to get more aggravated with him, maybe even more desperate to win.

Mason knew she had a boyfriend. Mason knew he didn’t like her boyfriend. Whenever he brought it up, the result was always some kind of actual fight. Mason had always been observant, not just with Goodson, but with everyone. He felt that actions spoke a lot more than words did, and when it came to Goodson, her actions practically screamed. He knew she started to change after getting with her boyfriend, and while it had never affected her work as a doctor, it seemed to be changing her as a person.

Maybe what he saw in her was nothing. Maybe he was mistaken.

And then she took his clinic hours. Goodson wasn’t quite fond of clinic hours; no one on his team was. He would always offer them up before ordering someone to fill in for him. Not once had his team actually accepted his hours. That was when he knew something was up with Goodson. Something was changing… again. His inquiries went unanswered, however. Out of his three team members, Goodson was the hardest to bend towards his will, unless, of course, it had anything to do with something medical.

Much like Goodson’s impending breakup was invading her thoughts the whole day, Mason’s thoughts swam with possibilities of what she was thinking about. He was normally good at stuff like this, reading people, figuring them out, but he spent the whole day thinking about it and had nothing new when it was time to leave. He even tried to bring up the subject matter casually to his close friend and hospital pharmacist, Robert Shore, but Shore started questioning Mason’s motives, and as always, Mason had used one of the defense mechanisms he had mastered to deflect the question and change the subject.

Then he saw Goodson walk out the main doors to the hospital. Rationally, he knew it wasn’t any of his business to know what was going on with her. Yet, he also knew who he was as a person, and curiosity always won out. She walked over to a sitting figure, probably her boyfriend, he assumed. Positioning himself against the wall of the hospital was his best bet; he could see her, she couldn’t see him, and he wouldn’t get wet considering he forgot his umbrella that day.

The guy tried to hug her, but Goodson stepped back, avoiding physical contact with him. Interesting, Mason thought to himself. Even through the cloudy darkness, he could see that she was talking to him. She was positioning herself somewhat defensively, but her look was determined. Mason could see that the guy wasn’t taking whatever she was saying very well. He looked angry, upset. He tried to grab Goodson’s moving wrists, but she took another step back, her face warning him without words. Then he jutted his finger at her, as though he was accusing her of something. He looked like he was yelling, but the heavy rain muffled the words. Goodson looked down, her one arm wrapped around herself while the other held her umbrella, and he stalked off.

She must have just broken up with him.

Mason watched her stand there for a moment. He wasn’t sure if she was crying because tears easily camouflaged with the falling rain. She didn’t look sad… just lonely. She took a seat on the bench, her back towards him, and closed her umbrella, letting the rain hit her.

After a moment, Mason decided to approach her. He didn’t know what to say; he wasn’t exactly good at saying the right things at the right time, but Goodson looked like she might need some company. He walked as quietly through the rain as he possibly could before he finally took a seat on the wet bench.

She didn’t have to look at him to know who it was. “Are you here to mock me?” she asked him, her eyes focused on the park that was before her.

“I am appalled that you would think such a thing,” Mason said quickly, his eyes trying to find what she was looking at.

“I should’ve known you would have some way to find out,” she stated, turning her head to look at him. He met her eyes with his.

“Yes,” he said, nodding once, “you should’ve.”

There was a pause, and neither could decide if it was awkward or not.

A smile suddenly broke out on Goodson’s face and she looked up at the sky, the rain hitting her delicate features and rolling down until they dripped off of her. “I love the rain,” she stated, not looking at him. “That’s why I moved here from California.”

He didn’t respond to her. There was nothing to say.

“I haven’t sat in the rain for a long time.”

Now he couldn’t tell if she was talking to him or herself. At least now he could say something.

“You know that sitting in the rain can get you sick, right?” he asked her, turning his head to look at her.

“But it feels good,” she said, smiling again. “It feels… refreshing.”

“Is that how you feel?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he studied her profile. Her hair was tumbling down her back in waves, soaked with water. The red colored turned dark, but that sparkle seemed to have slightly rekindled in her eyes.

Instead of shutting him out, she furrowed her brow, deep in thought. How did she feel? She leaned into the bench, quiet for a moment, before turning to meet his eyes. “I feel… relieved,” she told him quietly, honestly.

A small smile tugged up the corner of his lips. “That’s a good sign,” he stated.

“I also feel… ashamed,” she said with a sad undertone to her face. Her eyes dropped to her lap. “I feel lost, you know? I need to find myself again.”

“Love makes us feel-“ he began, but she stopped him with a sharp look.

“It wasn’t love,” she clarified firmly. She softened her tone. “I mean, I thought it was, but it wasn’t.”

Mason seemed to ponder that for a moment. “What are you going to do?” he asked her.

“Probably reacquaint myself with Jack Daniels,” she said with a rueful smile.

“You don’t drink,” he told her.

“I know,” she said, looking at him. She sighed and slouched her shoulders slightly. “I’ll probably end up taking a long bath, watching romantic comedies, and eating lots and lots of chocolate.”

“Do you want some company?” he asked her before he could even think.

Olivia looked at his face suspiciously, studying his features for any sort of tell about his true intentions. Her eyes drifted over his sky blue eyes, down to his cheeks, and then to his lips. Realizing she had been staring, she blushed slightly and forced her eyes back into his. He didn’t seem to be kidding, and there didn’t seem to be an ulterior motive…

“That would be nice,” she told him softly, nodding.

The two stood together and began to walk to the parking garage. Both were extra careful not to accidentally brush shoulders with the other, afraid to touch, afraid to feel. They decided that Mason would follow Olivia in his car, so whenever he decided to leave, he was able to do so.

As she drove, Olivia gripped the steering wheel tightly, causing her knuckles to go white. Her heater was on full blast, but she left the radio off so she could listen to the rain fall. Was this the right idea? Should she really be doing this?

It didn’t matter; there was no going back now.