Page 57 of I’ll Find You

She went on to say that things between her, Maxwell, and Lucinda were…okay, and they seemed to be getting along fine. They were by no means perfect, but definitely better. “That’s all we can really ask for right now,” she said with a small smile, hoping it would be true.

Chelsea has always been that way. Always trying to keep everyone together, even after they'd already started pulling apart. I know that I was the one who took things too far. Despite knowing better, I gave in to dating Maxwell and crossing a line I shouldn’t have. If I hadn’t, I might still be living there and spending time with the people I once considered my best friends.

We’d all known each other for years. Since undergrad and through medical school, we always had something solid, building a friendship through daunting academics and grueling clinical rotations. It’s hard to realize that maybe it was never as strong as I thought. Still, I don’t regret how things turned out because now I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. With Alex. With the people who showed up when it mattered.

My phone buzzes with a message from the cousins’ group chat. I’d texted them earlier after they asked about Watson, wanting to know when they could finally meet him. Watson is an old soul in a dog’s body. Despite everything he’s been through—the mistrust and the way people have let him down, I think he’ll fit in with them. Maybe that’s why I connected with him so quickly.

Chelsea gives me a soft and genuine smile when I mention it. “He’ll love you and his forever home,” she says easily. Then, almost as an afterthought, “You’re good with things that are broken.” She looks away.

I blink at that, not sure what she means or what to say in return. Chelsea shrugs lightly, brushing it over, and then I think maybe it’s because she knows about me and is saying that because she sees me a little too clearly. I don't think much of the comment after that. The conversation shifts to lighter things after that, and before long, lunch is over.

I'm finishing up in the operating room, moving on to rounds with my current patients. As I step into the hallway, I spot Dr. Somersworth, Maxwell’s father, walking beside Chelsea. He’s just come out of a case, still in his scrubs, speaking to her in a low voice. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he wears the confidence of someone used to being obeyed as he looms over her small frame.

Chelsea nods as he talks, her attention fixed on him in a way that’s almost intent, hanging on every word. The exchange is warm, but more than that, he seems genuinely pleased.

He says something else, and she lets out a soft laugh, as her shoulders relax slightly, and the tension she had when they first walked out is gone. Maybe she had a rough case, too. He is very intimidating, and I know that he is revered by his colleagues and staff. It makes sense. He’s known for mentoring students and taking an interest in ones that stand out, and Chelsea looks like she just passed one of his tests. She’s always been the kind of person who wants to do things right. To be seen that way. Most residents want to be on his radar, whereas I want the exact opposite, and after what I learned about him from Dr. Flores, I hope I’m not on his radar in any way.

Still, I slow without meaning to. There's something about the way he looks at her. I don't know why it catches my attention, only that it does. I look away before they notice me. Unfortunately, when I turn, it’s too late. Chelsea’s eyes catch mine first, her expression lighting in surprise.

“Rose. Hey,” she calls, stepping slightly away from Dr. Somersworth. He follows her gaze. His change of expression is immediate. Although he tries to mask it, making it appear more subtle, it’s there. The warmth he had when I saw him speaking with Chelsea moments ago vanishes, replaced by something much cooler and calculating.

“Dr. Somersworth,” I say automatically, offering him a small, yet always professional smile. I’m sure after the meeting we had in the dean’s office, he has mixed feelings toward me.

“Ms. Bennett,” he replies in an even-toned voice. He’s still polite, but there’s an edge beneath it that wasn’t there a second ago with Chelsea. His eyes move over me briefly, assessing, before his expression becomes unreadable.

Chelsea glances between us, her smile faltering. “We just finished a case,” she explains quickly, as she attempts to fill the awkward space. “Dr. Somersworth was just giving me some feedback.”

“You did well,” he says, but his attention isn’t really on her anymore. It’s on me. There’s something in his expression I can’t quite place, but his voice leads me to believe it’s just disapproval. Maybe it’s because I’ve interrupted something I wasn’t meant to see.

“Well,” he says after a beat, adjusting his white coat and buttoning it. “I won’t keep you.” His gaze lingers on me for a half second longer than necessary with his piercing, cold, distant eyes, before he nods once at Chelsea and steps away.

Chelsea watches him go, something like relief washing across her face before she turns back to me. “That was kind of awkward,” she says lightly, though there’s a question underneath it.

I force a small smile. “Yeah,” I say. “It sure was.” My eyes drift back down the hall to where he disappeared. “Maybe he’s still upset about Maxwell, or never wanted me dating him in the first place.” My voice disappears into the open corridor.

“I doubt that’s it,” Lucinda says, coming around the corner. “Sorry, I hid after I saw him there.” Lucinda’s gaze follows Dr. Somersworth and lingers down the hall long after he disappears. Her posture is tense, and her shoulders bunch with her arms folded slightly, closing herself off.

“Anyway. I doubt it was just feedback,” she says again.

Chelsea frowns. “What do you mean? He was just⁠—”

“I know what it looked like,” Lucinda cuts in a little too quickly, making me cringe inwardly. I still see her in that outfit, the visual I won’t be losing any time soon. “I’m just saying,” her voice a little less jarring, “He doesn’t spend that kind of time unless there’s a reason.”

There’s a pause, as she lets that statement hang in the air like a bad smell no one wanted to acknowledge. Chelsea shakes her head. “He’s that way with a lot of students. He just expects a lot.”

Lucinda lets out a short breath. It sounds almost like a laugh, but lacking all humor. “Yeah,” she says. “That’s one way to put it.”

I glance at her. “Have you worked with him before?”

She hesitates, avoiding meeting my gaze. “Once,” she says finally, hesitating for a second before she looks at me, before her eyes flick away. “It wasn’t…a big deal.” But something in her tone doesn’t quite match the words she says.

Chelsea seems to notice it, too. “He does push people, but it’s because he sees potential. That’s kind of his thing.”

Lucinda nods, but she’s not really agreeing. Her gaze moves back down the hall. “He notices things,” she whispers. “More than he should.” She glances over at me. A chill works its way under my skin. Everything Dr. Flores told me that day replayed in my mind.

“Like what?” I ask, I need to know.

Lucinda blinks. Maybe she didn’t realize she'd said that out loud. “Nothing,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “Forget it.” She forces a small smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m probably overthinking it.”