18. Nicholas

CHAPTER 18

Nicholas

I dragged myself out of bed the day after the end of what Markus and I could have been. Every muscle ached like I’d run a marathon in my sleep. My chest felt tight, my head heavy, and the faint buzz of nausea added a cherry on top of the misery sundae. Great. If this wasn’t the start of the flu, it was probably karma catching up to me for… what? For running away from someone I actually liked?

Markus’s face popped into my mind, and I shoved it away like a hot pan. No. Not going there. I didn’t have the energy to wrestle with that disaster today.

Work. I could focus on that. At least patients couldn’t disappoint me—or look at me like they wanted more than I was willing to give.

The senior living facility’s fluorescent lights stabbed at my eyes the second I stepped through the doors. The hum of activity buzzed in my ears—machines beeping, phones ringing, voices layered on top of one another. Normally, the chaos was grounding, a reminder of my purpose. Today, it just made my head pound harder.

Markus. He was somewhere in this maze of halls, and I wasn’t ready to face him. For the past few days, I’d avoided him like the flu outbreak we had last winter, ducking into empty rooms or taking the scenic route around the garden just to steer clear of him. It was pathetic, but it worked. Most of the time. This was another case of deja vu like when I’d avoided him a while ago.

I made it halfway down the hallway toward the staff lounge when his voice carried over the low hum of conversation. My stomach tightened.

I turned sharply, pretending I had a pressing reason to visit the rec room. Maybe he wouldn’t notice me. Maybe I could just?—

“Good morning, Nicholas.”

Not Nicky. Nicholas. My chest tightened at the sound of it, his tone calm but firm, like a thread tugging me to stop.

I paused mid-step, my hand brushing the edge of the wall. He was standing near the nurses' station, a chart in hand, his expression composed but not unreadable. My heart did that stupid flutter thing, the one that made me want to scream at myself for being so obvious.

“G’morning, Dr. Webber,” I muttered, barely glancing in his direction, heat crawling up my neck.

“Can you check on Mr. Gaines and make sure he’s comfortable?”

Nodding, I said, “Will do,” and hurried to Mr. Gaines’s room, all the while feeling Markus’s eyes on my retreating back.

Beverly was the last resident I needed to check on during these rounds. Her room was a sanctuary. No pitying glances. Just her, sharp as ever, even when she wasn’t feeling her best. When I stepped inside, she was half-sitting in bed, a crossword puzzle in her lap. Her lips tilted into a small smile when she saw me.

“Look who it is. My favorite CNA,” she said, her voice carrying its usual dry humor, though softer than usual.

I smirked, walking over to her bedside. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Flattery gets me everything.” She chuckled, but it sounded faint, like the laugh itself had to work too hard. “How are you, son?”

That word made my chest pinch. It always did when she used it. My mother’s voice flickered in my memory, calling me the same way. I swallowed. “I’m fine. How about you?”

“Peachy,” she answered with a wave of her hand.

I glanced at her. Her face seemed paler than usual, but it wasn’t uncommon for her complexion to vary. She shifted slightly, reaching for the water on her tray.

“You sure you’re okay?” I asked, setting her chart down and stepping closer.

“Don’t fuss over me. I’m just tired today. Nothing a good nap won’t fix.”

I watched her take a sip of water, the motion steady enough to ease my concern. “Fine,” I relented, pulling her blanket up a little. “But if you need anything, let me know.”

“Of course. You’ll be the first to know if I keel over.” She grinned, but it faltered for just a second before she covered it with a smirk.

I shook my head, the corner of my mouth tugging upward despite myself. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s what makes me charming.” She shifted back against her pillows, her expression softening. “Now, what’s got you brooding? Don’t lie. I can see it in your face.”

“It’s nothing.”

She smirked, leaning back against her pillows. “Did our efforts to get you and you-know-who together work?”

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head as I tucked my hands into my pockets. “I knew y’all were up to no good,” I said, shooting her a pointed look. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. And I can say with absolute certainty—it’s 100% not going to happen.”

Beverly tilted her head, her grin fading just slightly. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

She watched me for a long moment, her teasing expression softening. “You know, you can talk to me.”

I hesitated, my gaze flicking to the floor. “It’s complicated.”

“Life usually is,” she said with a small shrug. She let out a breath, her fingers idly smoothing the edge of the crossword puzzle in her lap. “Listen to me, Nicky.”

I didn’t correct her. That name from her lips settled strangely in my chest, soft and bittersweet.

“When you get to my age, you start to realize a lot of things you thought mattered don’t. Arguments you were too proud to lose, chances you were too scared to take... those are the things you regret. Not the mistakes. Not the risks. It’s the ‘what ifs’ that’ll eat at you.”

I looked up at her, the weight of her words sinking in as she continued. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t waste it waiting for things to feel perfect. They very rarely do. You’ll never have all the answers, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

She reached for her glass of water on the bedside table, her movements slow but steady. “You’ve got a good heart. Don’t let fear or pride keep you from living.” Her gaze met mine, sharp but kind. “Now, take it from an old woman who’s lived a long life. If there’s something—or someone—that makes you happy, you hold onto it with both hands. You’ll thank me one day.”

Her words clung to me, wrapping around the edges of my thoughts. I stood there longer than I should have, watching as her eyes fluttered shut.

“You get some rest,” I murmured.

She hummed softly, her breathing already slowing into an easy rhythm.

When I left the room, her words followed me, sticking like burrs in my chest.