1. Nicky

CHAPTER 1

Nicky

The automatic doors whooshed open, bringing the scent of disinfectant and faintly burnt coffee. It wasn’t bad. Familiar, even. The hum of voices from the nurses’ station buzzed like white noise, and the squeak of a wheel on a passing med cart kept time with my steps as I clocked in. Another day. Another eight hours of trying to keep my mind off…

I was a mess this morning, no other way to say it. I had to shuffle through the motions of routine, pretending the sharp ache in my chest wasn’t there, threatening to flood my thoughts. My brother Aiden had been gone since August, but this was the first holiday season without him, and it hit harder than I expected. And though I’d tried to convince myself it was just a normal part of life, it felt like the air had thickened in my lungs.

“Nicky, you’re on morning rounds for East Hall today,” Terri, the senior LPN, called over her shoulder, already halfway down the corridor. Her sunflower-patterned scrubs were loud, almost aggressively cheerful, as if she’d woken up and chosen happiness on purpose just to irritate the rest of us. Her short brown bob swayed with her brisk steps, and the tiny coffee-cup charm dangling from her badge lanyard jangled like it, too, was fueled by caffeine.

“It’s Nicholas,” I muttered under my breath.

She didn’t even glance back, which was probably just as well. Mornings and I didn’t get along, and she’d been working with me long enough to ignore the scowl I was shooting at her retreating back.

But Terri was already gone. The shift had begun, and my focus was needed elsewhere.

The first stop was Beverly’s room. She was a tough woman wrapped in the kind of gentleness that made you want to both protect and provoke her. Beverly was sharp as a tack, quick with a joke, but always in control. I’d worked with her for months now, and the routine had become comforting. I tapped the door frame before stepping inside, knocking like I was still worried about disturbing her peace.

“Morning, Beverly. Ready for breakfast, or are we lounging today?”

She was hunched over her crossword puzzle, pencil in hand, her lips moving as she silently tested out words. She looked like she’d been at it for hours.

“Good morning, Nicky.”

“It’s Nicholas.” My tone came out firm, but not sharp. Her pencil paused for a beat before she went right back to her puzzle, like I hadn’t said anything at all.

“Did you sleep okay?” I asked, the words coming out softer this time.

Beverly glanced up, peering at me over the rim of her glasses. Her brow furrowed, but not in annoyance—her look was half-amused, half-concerned.

“You okay, son?” she asked, ignoring my question.

The word hit like a spark to my chest, sharp and fleeting. Son. She said it so naturally, the same way my mom always did, right up to the day she’d called me after a double shift, tired but determined to head home and cook dinner for Aiden. That word, her voice, that night—they were all etched into my memory, no matter how much I wished they weren’t.

My hands twitched, too restless. I shoved them into my pockets to hide the tremor. “I’m fine,” I muttered, but the words felt thin, hollow. Even I didn’t buy them.

Beverly tilted her head, her glasses slipping down her nose, but she didn’t push. Beverly rarely did.

I forced a swallow, my throat suddenly dry. It wasn’t her fault the word son dredged up things I’d spent years burying. Mom always sounded so steady when she said it, even when she was exhausted from hours on her feet, running on nothing but coffee and the need to help people. She was a nurse— the nurse everyone relied on. The one who stayed late because the hospital was understaffed. The one who skipped breaks because someone else’s emergency mattered more.

The one who promised me she’d get her brakes fixed soon but never found the time.

I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, grounding myself in the discomfort. Beverly was still watching me, patient and kind in that way that made me feel both seen and cornered. I needed to shake myself out of these thoughts, change the subject.

I rubbed the back of my neck, forcing down the lump in my throat. “My brother Aiden’s been gone since August—started college and he’s not coming home for Christmas because he scored an internship—and this is the first holiday season without him, and... ” I shrugged my shoulders, leaving the rest unsaid. Beverly doesn’t need to know that my brother’s absence was hitting me harder than I thought it would.

Her expression softened, her pencil slipping from her fingers. “I get it. When my youngest left, I spent the first week walking around the house, rearranging furniture like some kind of lunatic. The silence gets real loud, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does,” I agreed quietly. “He’s a good kid. He’s ready to go out on his own. But... damn. I didn’t expect it to feel this empty.”

Beverly folded the crossword puzzle carefully and set it down on the table beside her. The air around her shifted, calm but filled with the weight of her years. I liked her wisdom, even if it was sometimes a little hard to swallow. “You raised him, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice gentle.

I nodded. “More than a brother. He was my responsibility from the time he was twelve.”

“Which means you’ve earned a rest.”

I grunted, not in agreement but in something else—a stubborn resistance to the idea that I should be resting. “I’m fine. I’ve got work to do.”

Beverly’s gaze never wavered. She wasn’t letting me off the hook that easily. “Fine isn’t enough, Nicky.”

“Nicholas,” I corrected again, though there wasn’t the same fire in my voice anymore.

She ignored me, continuing in that soft, persistent tone. “You’re young. You’ve been looking out for others so long, you forgot to look out for yourself. Have you thought about nursing school? What about dating?”

A flash of annoyance pricked at my chest. "I’ve got too much going on right now." It was an excuse I’d given so many times, I could recite it in my sleep.

“And that’s the problem. You prioritize taking care of everyone else—your brother, the people here. What about you?”

“I don’t need anything else,” I said, a little too quickly, my voice a little too tight. “I’ve got everything I need.”

But I didn’t. I hadn’t felt like myself in years—not since I took on the role of parent for Aiden, not since I set aside dreams of going to nursing school. Even though I’d chosen it all, it still felt like I was suffocating sometimes. But I’d never let myself admit it.

Beverly wasn’t buying it. She tilted her head, studying me. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” I said quickly, reaching for her chart. The numbers didn’t lie—her blood pressure had been creeping up lately, and I wanted to check it again before breakfast.

She made a sound low in her throat, somewhere between disbelief and exasperation. “You’ve got too much life ahead of you to spend it all in this building. Look out for yourself, son.”

That word again. “Beverly,” I warned, but she just gave me that knowing smile.

I shifted the focus back to her, flipping open her file. “Speaking of looking out for yourself, why didn’t you mention that sore on your foot?”

Her smile faltered, and she tucked her foot under her chair like she could hide it. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just a little spot.”

“It’s never just a little spot.” I pulled a fresh pair of gloves from my pocket, snapping them on. “Let me see.”

She hesitated but eventually stretched her leg out. I crouched beside her and gently peeled back her sock. The small, darkened area near her heel caught my eye immediately.

“Beverly, you know better. This wasn’t here a couple of days ago.”

Her hands gripped the chair's armrests. “I didn’t want to make a fuss. They’ll bring out the needles again, and you know how I feel about those.”

My chest tightened, but I kept my voice steady. “You’re not making a fuss. This is serious, especially with your diabetes. Ignoring it could lead to an infection, or worse.”

She sighed, her eyes softening as if trying to will the situation away. “It doesn’t look that bad. I thought maybe it’d heal on its own. Plus, y’all have enough on your plates.”

“We’ll have more if this turns into something serious.” My voice softened as I stood, carefully pulling off the gloves and tucking them into the trash bag on my cart. “I’ll get the nurse to take a look. And don’t think for a second you’re a bother, okay? You’re one of my favorite people, even if you drive me nuts.”

Her expression softened a little, but she sighed. “Okay, fine. Just don’t make me go through those damn needles again.”

I smiled, despite myself. “No promises. But we’ll get this under control.”

She gave me a playful look. “You’re a good boy, Nicky.”

“It’s Nicholas. And don’t try to butter me up, Beverly. You’re still getting the IV if it’s needed.”

Her laugh followed me into the hallway, a soft sound that lingered, warming the air around me. For a moment, the weight pressing on my chest lightened, though I couldn’t quite shake it entirely.

Work helped, though. It always did.