32. Clementine

Clementine

I hated the feeling of losing a patient that could have been saved. It burned me up inside in ways that I couldn’t convey, but I had gotten better at keeping my tears for the safety of my home, with my husband who wouldn’t look at me as if I were an alien—as if all doctors were only supposed to be stiff and unmoved.

Standing at the head of the conference table, I went over the details of the patient’s case, my tone more clipped than professional. I wasn’t here to dwell on the loss, just to make sure my team understood what had happened and how we could improve.

That came with my promotion as head of the Emergency Department.

“He’d been stable during rounds,” I said, flipping through the charts on my tablet. “The embolism was sudden, and even with immediate intervention, we couldn’t reverse the damage. His family was notified, and we’ve ordered a full review to ensure—”

“Do you think that’s the best approach, Dr. Warren?”

The interruption came from Dr. James Roker, who leaned back in his chair at the far end of the table, one hand lazily resting on the armrest, the other holding his coffee. His tone was conversational, but his words carried a bite that I knew was intentional.

I paused, the hum of quiet murmurs around the table fading as everyone turned their attention to him.

“Excuse me?”

Dr. Roker raised a brow, setting his coffee down with exaggerated care.

“You’re focusing on the family’s grief, which is admirable, but I’m asking about the clinical side. Shouldn’t we be emphasizing objectivity and removing emotion from the equation?”

His words hung in the air, and my stomach twisted at how nonchalant he could be. Around the table, some of my colleagues exchanged uneasy glances, while others avoided looking at either of us altogether.

I let out a humorless chuckle to calm myself.

“This isn’t about emotion,” I replied, my voice calm but firm. “It’s about transparency—making sure we communicate effectively as a team and provide closure for the family.”

James leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.

“Transparency is important but so is maintaining composure. If every loss rattles you this much, it might be time to evaluate whether you’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment.”

I froze, his statement slamming into me with the force of a freight train.

My colleagues shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke. They never did.

To me, they were a bunch of pussies, and while I had one, I was anything but.

I set my tablet down slowly, my gaze locking onto his.

“I lost a patient today. We all did, might I add,” I said, an edge to my voice I couldn’t hide. “A man who was fighting to rebuild his life. I gave everything I had to help him, and I’d do it again, even knowing the outcome. If showing emotion makes me less of a doctor in your eyes, then maybe you should question what makes you one.”

He pressed his lips together as if he were holding in his rebuttal, but I wished he’d said it so I could really let him know how I felt.

Though he didn’t respond, his silence said enough.

The room remained still for another few beats before I straightened, my voice sharper than before as I addressed the rest of the team. “The board will use this case specifically for student doctors to review and give their takes based on the notes. Everyone is welcome to join those sessions if they see fit. In the meantime, if anyone has additional questions or concerns, feel free to reach out.”

I didn’t look back as I turned and walked out of the room, head held high because, emotional or not, I was that fucking bitch and nobody would look down on me.

By the time my shift ended, I was drained and annoyed.

I stood outside the hospital, leaning against one of the concrete pillars as I waited for Leyland. Usually, he came inside to get me, but tonight, I needed the space.

When his car pulled into the lot, relief spread through me. He stepped out, his dark eyes immediately finding mine. With furrowed brows, he walked over, his long strides quick and purposeful.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice filled with concern as he reached for my hand.

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, the doors opened behind us. James and Kayla were leaving the hospital together. James glanced in our direction, his expression smug, while Kayla hesitated, her gaze darting between me and him.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Kayla asked, stepping toward me.

I gave Leyland a quick squeeze on the arm before turning to her.

“Sure.”

Kayla pulled me a few steps away, her voice low.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about James. He shouldn’t have said what he did, especially not in front of everyone.”

I studied her face. Kayla and I had been friends for years, but her connection to James complicated everything.

Nothing about their union made sense to me.

“It’s not your fault,” I said finally, though the frustration still simmered. “But thank you for saying something.”

She nodded, glancing back toward James. He was scrolling through his phone like none of this mattered, but the way Leyland was glaring at him spoke volumes.

“You’d better get him out of here,” Kayla said with a faint smile. “He looks ready to kill.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Returning to Leyland, I slid my hand into his and gave it a gentle tug.

“Let’s go,” I ordered softly.

He didn’t argue, but his glare lingered on James for a moment longer before he turned and followed me to the car.

Once we were driving, Leyland broke the silence.

“I really don’t fucking like him. And I know he’s the reason you’re upset.”

I sighed and leaned my head back.

“James and Kayla are in a three-year marriage contract,” I revealed, wanting to get it off my chest instead of talking about why the man had really upset me. “I don’t know if they hate each other or not, but she won’t say why they’re stuck in it.”

Leyland coughed, but it sounded more like laughter.

“A marriage contract? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I said, my lips curving. “It’s ridiculous, and she barely talks about it. I just try to be there for her when I can.”

Leyland reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

“You’re a good friend, but I hope you know I’ll fuck all of St. Mercy’s shit up about you.”

My smile spread, despite the words that left my lips. I loved when he got all protective of me.

“You don’t need to fight my battles, Leyland.”

His lips twitched into a small grin, but his eyes softened.

“I know and that doesn’t change what I said.“

I laughed, the tension of the day easing slightly.

“One of your favorite people is in town,” he said quickly after, obviously trying to lift my spirits more.

Excitement bubbled in my chest; there was only one person he could be talking about.

“Who?”

“Guess.”

“Ophelia?” I questioned with a smug grin.

“Got it in one,” he said, his grin widening.

“My man knows me so well,” I mused. “But why do I feel she’s not here to see us?”

“So the Duke and Ophelia thing is real?”

I nodded, remembering how often they talked while he was in a coma.

“Mmmhm. Even though I don’t think either of them has actually told the other how they feel.”

“Not our business,” he said, lying to himself. “I told my parents they could host dinner at our place, so you could relax on your off day and still be part of the chaos.”

It was absolutely our business, but I kept my comment to myself.

The car ride home felt lighter, and for the first time all day, I could breathe again thanks to my man.