Chapter 26

“Is there a Dr. Finley here?” A tall, brunette woman dressed in a hospital security guard uniform walked up to the nurses’ station counter.

Kiera raised her hand from where she was standing behind a seated nurse, both looking at the computer screen in front of them. “Uh, sort of. That’s me.”

“A messenger service dropped this off at the guard desk for you,” the young security guard said, holding up a small green box up for her to see.

Stepping around the counter, Kiera came out and took it from her. “Oh, wow. Thank you for bringing this. I’m so sorry—I know delivery isn’t your job.”

The woman smiled, shrugging it off. Despite the very unforgiving attire, she was obviously athletic and definitely gorgeous. There was an excitement in her eyes that was infectious, and Kiera wondered why their paths hadn’t crossed more. “I don’t mind. Today’s actually my last day. I start at the police academy tomorrow.”

“Wow! Congratulations! That’s so weird, too, because it’s my last day, as well,” Kiera said, tucking the package under her arm and reaching one hand out to shake the woman’s hand. “Oh, I didn’t catch your name? I’m Kiera.”

“Sophie.” The woman shook her hand with a smile. “That’s crazy we’re leaving the same day. Police academy for you, too?” she teased.

Kiera laughed, knowing Sophie was kidding. “Seattle.”

“Good to meet you, Kiera. Anyway, enjoy your package. Have a good night!”

The young woman headed back down the hallway, a bounce in her step. Kiera envied her enthusiasm at the start of a new venture in her life. While Kiera was doing the same, moving to Seattle in just a few days, nothing felt great about it. Sure, the fellowship was a dream—more than a dream, actually. It was everything she’d ever wanted for her career, for her future.

But when she’d made those plans, she hadn’t factored in a love life. She hadn’t factored in Quinn. She hadn’t factored in heartbreak.

Several weeks had passed since they’d split, and they had barely spoken. A few text messages here and there to be polite, to return keys…that was it. It was strange how simply something so complicated like love could end. All boiling down to a few shared belongings and keys, and then there was nothing left to show for what had been the most meaningful relationship of her entire life.

None of it was what she wanted to say. None of it made him hers again.

She’d gone over every possibility in her head, but Quinn had been right. The moment that acceptance letter had shown up, she’d felt it in the pit of her stomach. It was over.

Her mother had been wrong—she couldn’t have both. She couldn’t have the dream career and the dream man. If she’d stayed for Quinn, she’d regret missing this opportunity for her career, and while she hoped she’d never resent Quinn for that…she honestly didn’t know. Being a doctor was all she’d ever wanted in her life for so long.

As young as she still might be, as many years as she still had to go in her training, she’d already seen the immense joy of meeting someone in their worst moment and carrying them through to the best. Kiera loved to bring hope to people, to her patients and to their families. She loved to help people overcome their medical struggles and take back control over their own bodies. That’s who she was able to be for her patients, and even who she’d been for Quinn.

When Quinn had first started physical therapy with her, he was in tears and a shell of his former self. He was a slave to his body and everything it could no longer do. With time and hard work, she’d shown him how to regain those functions, his independence, and the very core of who he was. He’d returned to the loving, silly, lively man she’d known her whole life, and Kiera had fallen head over heels in love with both the broken man, and the man behind those scars.

How ironic that their relationship both started and ended in tears.

Kiera placed the green box on the counter in front of her, pulling at the lid. Upon removing it, she pushed aside the tissue paper to reveal the silver heart she’d seen only twice before but could recognize in an instant. Ribboned metal spun and arched into the heart’s shape, one half filled with a barely transparent black glass, and the other half completely empty.

Lifting the small object into her hand, she realized that there was one change. It was now fastened to a delicate silver chain, the length of a necklace. Her thumb rubbed over the smooth, cold surface and she thought she understood what it meant now. One half shrouded in darkness, the other left empty.

He was grieving, and she was gone. Or maybe she was grieving, and he was gone. She wasn’t sure which, but either way, her chest ached at the thought.

Lifting it to her chest, she fastened the chain around the back of her neck and let the heart dangle like a pendant over her scrubs. Kiera reached back into the box and pulled out the card that had been tucked under Quinn’s heart.

Dear Keeks,

I made this for you years ago, and it should be with you, even if I’m not.

Merry Christmas,

Q

Tucking the note quickly back in the box, she clutched the entire thing to her chest and walked briskly down the hallway. She ducked inside a dark storage room to her right and closed the door behind her, letting the tears fall in private, away from where the nurses would see her. She had cried so much over the last few weeks, but she wasn’t about to let it affect her work. Kiera refused to show weakness in such a male-dominated industry, even if she was going to be at this program only a few more days before moving to Seattle.

Just as quickly as the tears fell, the familiar anger rushed through her. Shoving her hands through her hair, she felt the ache of frustration at wanting what she couldn’t have, or what Quinn was refusing to give her. Fury consumed her at how trapped she felt, how miserable she was without him, or how angry she was at him and the world for giving her everything she’d ever wanted and then taking it away.

The loudspeaker crackled overhead. “Dr. Finley to the ER. Dr. Finley to the ER.”

Kiera quickly wiped at her face and shoved the necklace into the pocket of her scrubs. She was not about to be caught crying in a closet on her last day here—talk about going out with a whimper.

This was her job, her passion. This was all she had left, so she was damn well going to do her best at it—if not for herself, then for her patients.