26. Elle

TWENTY-SIX

Elle

Monday, July 29

UAB Hospital

9:16 am

I sit nervously on the exam table, my heart racing as Dr. Hampton walks in. He's holding my scans, and I try to read his expression, searching for any hint of what he's about to tell me.

"Well, Elle," he says with a smile, "I've got great news. Your scans look amazing."

I let myself breathe. "Really?"

"Absolutely. Your hand is healing up perfectly. The tendon reattachment is flawless."

I am overcome with relief. After everything I've been through with this stupid injury, I'm always nervous to let my guard down.

"What about the nerves?" I ask, remembering the concern about potential long-term damage.

"From what we can see, it looks like all of the nerves will heal with time," Dr. Hampton explains. "However, that's one of those things that could take up to a year to assess fully."

I nod, understanding the long road still ahead.

"So, does that mean I will have full use of my hand at the end of this?"

"Haven't you been using your hand in therapy?"

"Yes, but it is still really weak. And sometimes, it is hard for my brain to get my ring finger to bend on command."

"It will take some time for you to build up your strength and reestablish your muscle memory, but yes, I think you will have full function of your hand."

"Oh, that is great news! Thank you, Dr. Hampton!"

"I'm releasing you to your new team in Gainesville," he continues. "I've already spoken to the hand team there and set up your first consult. They have all your records."

"Thank you for doing that," I say, overwhelmed with gratitude. "For everything. Do I call them, or how does that work?"

"They will reach out to you. You'll probably hear from their office this week to confirm the date you'll go in."

We stand, and I give him a heartfelt hug. "Keep doing your therapy," he advises, wagging his finger at me. "And don't hesitate to reach out to me or my team anytime."

As we part, he adds, "I'm so glad everything worked out, even with the sepsis scare. Some days, it felt like I might not survive it all, but now, looking back, I think it all went down the way it was supposed to." My mind goes to the crazy circumstance that landed me at Shep's house in the first place, and that could have saved my life in more ways than one.

I walk out of the hospital. My emotions are jumbled. The relief of being cleared to return home is overshadowed by the realization that I'll be leaving Birmingham—leaving Shep. With shaky hands, I pull out my phone to text him.

Hey, just got out of my appointment with Dr. Hampton. Good news—I'm being released to continue treatment in Florida. It's bittersweet, though. I know you're probably in surgery, but I wanted to let you know.

I hit send and stare at the screen, willing a response to appear. But I know better. Shep's likely elbow-deep in someone's brain right now, entirely focused on saving a life.

I go to a nearby bench and sit down, needing a moment to process everything. The sunshine feels warm on my face, a stark contrast to the chill settling in my chest. I'm going home. I should be thrilled, right? But the thought of leaving Shep and returning to my life in Florida feels more like a loss than a win.

My phone stays silent. I imagine Shep, his sexy and steady hands working with precision. Thinking about him and the miraculous things he does with his hands, both in the OR and on my body, gives me chills. He is very skilled.

I take a deep breath, pushing away the worry about what leaving means. We've discussed it several times, and I feel good about our plan. I also trust what Shep says to me about his commitment to us.

I Googled the Red Cat Coffee place Isabella told me about. I can get one of their yummy lattes and catch up on some work emails there. I'm still on medical leave for another two weeks. No one said I had to rush back to Florida.

The Red Cat Coffee House

2901 2nd Ave S

8:52 am

I push open the door to Red Cat Coffee, the aroma of freshly ground beans and baked goods enveloping me. The cafe has a cozy, lived-in feel with exposed brick walls and mismatched vintage furniture. I spot an empty armchair tucked away in a corner and make my way over.

As I settle in, a barista with a friendly smile approaches. "What can I get for you?"

"A hot matcha latte and an almond croissant, please," I reply, salivating at the thought.

While I wait for my order, I pull out my laptop and power it on. The familiar chime as it boots up feels like a connection to my normal life, the one I left behind in Florida. I log into my work email, bracing myself for the flood of messages.

As expected, my inbox is overflowing. I start sorting through them, flagging the most urgent ones for follow-up. There are a few emails from my boss, who checked in on my recovery and asked about my return date. I make a mental note to call her later to discuss the details.

The barista returns with my latte and croissant. I take a sip of the matcha; its earthy sweetness perfectly complements the buttery pastry. As I nibble on the croissant, flaky crumbs falling onto my lap, I continue scrolling through emails.

Our biggest client is messaging me to inquire about a policy renewal. I quickly respond, assuring them I'll have a comprehensive proposal ready upon my return. It feels good to engage with work again, to feel useful and productive after weeks of being stuck in a hospital bed.

As I work, I can't help but glance at my phone every few minutes, hoping for a message from Shep. I know he's busy, but part of me wishes he could drop everything and meet me here to discuss what my leaving means for us.

I'm having trouble concentrating. I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Isabella.

Hey Izzy! My day just opened up unexpectedly. I know you're probably swamped at work, but if you can sneak out for a bit, give me a call. Would love to catch up! I'm at your favorite coffee spot!

I settle back on the bench, sipping my latte and watching people hurry by. It's strange how quickly Birmingham has started to feel familiar.

I find myself cataloging the little things I'll miss—the way the light hits the buildings downtown, the Southern drawl that's so different from the Florida Southern drawl, and the smell of Alabama barbecue wafting from nearby restaurants.

My phone buzzes, and I eagerly check it, hoping it's Shep. Still, I'm not sad to see that it's Isabella.

OMG, perfect timing! My 10:00 just canceled. I can meet you at Red Cat in 30!

I grin, feeling a surge of affection for my best friend.

Yay!

I scroll through my work email, trying to catch up on what I've missed during my extended stay here. I've periodically been able to go through it, so it isn't as overwhelming as it could be.

A subject line catches my eye: "Job Posting: Chief Scientist—McWane Science Center." Curious, I click to open it. It is from a recruiter who continually solicits me and my coworkers. I never have much interest in the postings, but Birmingham…?

My eyes widen as I read through the description. It's like they've taken my dream job and put it on paper. The position involves overseeing all scientific research and educational programs at the center, with a focus on marine biology and conservation—exactly my areas of expertise.

I think back to the day Shep, Opie, and I spent at the McWane Center. How natural it was for me to explain the marine exhibits to Opie, how at home I was among the displays. And now, here's a chance to be part of that every day.

The salary range makes me pause—it's comparable to what I'm making now in Gainesville. I hadn't even considered looking for a job in Birmingham, but the possibility of moving here suddenly seems tantalizingly real.

I love my current job. Our research is groundbreaking, and I've worked hard to get where I am. But as I think about returning to Florida, I realize my heart isn't in it anymore. My heart is here, in Birmingham, with Shep and Opie.

The thought of being able to stay and build a life here thrills me. I could see Shep every day and be there for Opie as he grows up. We wouldn't have to navigate the challenges of a long-distance relationship.

But doubt creeps in. Am I crazy for even considering this? I've only been back in Shep's life for a short time. Is it too soon to be thinking about uprooting my entire life for him?

I stare at the job posting, my mind racing with possibilities and questions.

I'm so lost in thought, staring at the job posting, that I don't hear Izzy approach. Suddenly, her hands clap down on my shoulders.

"Boo!"

I jump, slamming my laptop shut with a snap. My heart races, partly from the scare and partly from the guilt of being caught looking at a job in Birmingham.

"Izzy! You scared the life out of me," I gasp, trying to calm my racing pulse.

She laughs, sliding into the chair across from me. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. You were a million miles away. What's got you so distracted?"

I force a smile, pushing the laptop aside. "Oh, just catching up on work emails. Nothing exciting."

I don't want to hear Izzy's lecture about moving too fast with Shep. It's better to keep this to myself for now.

"So, what's new?" Izzy asks, flagging down a server to order her usual latte.

"Well, big news, actually," I say, grateful for the change of subject. "UAB officially discharged me today. I'm cleared to go back to Florida."

Izzy's eyes widen. "Wow, that's great! But also... not great? How are you feeling about it?"

I shrug, stirring my matcha. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I still have two more weeks of medical leave, so I don't have to rush back. It depends on when I can get in with the hand specialist there."

"And what about Shep?" Izzy asks, her tone cautious.

I sigh. "We're going to try long-distance. It's not ideal, but we both want to make it work."

As I chat with Izzy about my discharge and plans, my mind keeps drifting back to the job posting. Could I make a life here in Birmingham? Or am I getting way ahead of myself?