Chapter Text
Claire Browne wasn’t used to hesitating. But he made her hesitate.
It was supposed to be a quick decision: blue scrubs, hair pulled back, five minutes to herself in the resident lounge before rounds. Claire stood in front of the vending machine, eyes fixed on the candy section like it held all the answers.
Behind her, the quiet hum of hospital life pulsed—beeping monitors, squeaky carts, a distant page over the intercom. But all she could hear was the echo of Dash’s voice from earlier that morning.
“Dinner? Nothing fancy. Just us, off the grid for a bit.”
She’d blinked, caught off guard. “Dinner?”
“Yeah,” he’d grinned. “You know, that thing normal people do when they like each other?”
She’d laughed politely, but her mind had drifted before she could stop it—to a different voice. A different face. A different offer that never came.
Claire ran her fingers over the buttons of the vending machine without pressing anything. She was too smart to pretend she didn’t know why she was hesitating. She didn’t want to say no to Dash because he was wrong. She wanted to say no because Neil hadn’t asked.
It was stupid. She knew that. Neil Melendez wasn’t going to ask her out. He was her attending, her mentor, a constant in her professional life. He was also the man who knew her well enough to anticipate her decisions in surgery, the man who saw her when she tried not to be seen.
The man who looked at her like he was dying to say something, but never did.
Claire turned away from the vending machine and made her way toward the attending conference room. Her heart was louder now than the machines. The halls felt brighter than usual, too sterile. Too watchful. But she didn’t stop.
Neil was alone, standing at the whiteboard with a dry-erase marker in one hand and a half-finished case flow diagram in front of him. His shirt sleeves were rolled just past his elbows. There was a slight crease between his eyebrows—his thinking crease, she’d come to call it privately.
He looked up when he saw her at the door, expression unreadable but aware. Always aware.
Claire stepped in and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Neil replied. He capped the marker and dropped it onto the tray beneath the board. “Something on your mind?”
She didn’t know how to ask the question. So she went for honesty instead.
“Dash asked me to dinner again.”
Neil’s eyes flicked to hers briefly, then away. “And?”
“I haven’t given him an answer yet.”
Neil walked over to the small table in the corner and picked up a stack of case notes. “Why not?”
She hesitated. “Because I’m not sure I should.”
He was quiet for a beat. Then he looked at her, directly this time.
“You should go.”
The words landed sharper than she expected. Like a cold slap wrapped in calm.
Claire stared at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “You deserve someone who makes you happy. Someone who… makes things easier.”
His voice was neutral, steady—but too steady. Like he was forcing stillness into something that wasn’t still at all.
Claire stepped forward slightly. “He’s not you.”
Neil didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened just a little. “Exactly.”
She exhaled slowly, looking down at the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “You’re really okay with it?”
He held her stare. “What I want doesn’t matter.”
There it was—the wall. The unspoken thing that hung in the air between them more often than not.
Claire nodded slowly. “Okay.”
She turned and walked away before he could see the flicker of disappointment on her face. She didn’t know if she was more hurt by his answer—or by how much she had hoped it would be different.
Behind her, Neil remained frozen in place. He stood in the middle of the room long after she left, the silence around him louder than ever.
He had done the right thing. The noble thing. The professional thing.
So why did it feel like he’d just handed something precious away?