The sound escapes before she can stop it. Quiet. Warm. Completely unguarded.
I grin. "There it is."
She raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"I was beginning to think smiling violated hospital policy."
"It depends on the patient."
"So, I'm one of the difficult ones?"
"Oh, unquestionably."
"I'll put that on my résumé." She shakes her head, still smiling as she picks up my chart. "I don't think it'll fit."
Something about the exchange feels easy. Not because my shoulder hurts less. Not because I'm suddenly thrilled to be in a hospital room. Because somewhere over the last few days...we've stopped talking like captain and medical provider. We're just...talking.
She checks my incision without saying much. The bandage looks clean. No redness. No swelling.
"Looks good," she says.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"Pain?"
I consider lying, then remember exactly how well that worked yesterday. "Five."
She glances up. "The truth?" I sigh dramatically. "Six."
She laughs again. There it is. That laugh. I don't know why, but hearing it somehow makes the room feel less like a hospital, less like the place where my season ended. More like a place I'll soon leave. For the first time since I arrived that future doesn't feel quite so far away.
For a moment, Annette only watches me, then she writes something on the chart. “What did you just write?”
“Medical notes.”
“About my charming personality?” “About your pain medication schedule.”
“Disappointing.” This time she smiles without trying to hide it.
A knock interrupts us before I can decide whether I should be too pleased about that.
A nurse leans in. “Captain Walker, I’m heading to my certification exam after shift. If I fail because I’m sleep-deprived, I’m blaming you.”
“Don’t fail, Keisha.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You studied?”
“For three months.”
“Then stop giving yourself an excuse before you take the test.”
She points at me. “I came in here for encouragement.”
“That was encouragement.”
“That was a lecture from a hospital bed.”