Page 100 of Yours to Keep

The admission sat heavier in my chest than the financial concessions I’d made. Numbers were predictable. People weren’t.

“I don’t even know if this is enough to win her back, but that’s not really the point anymore.”

Her head tilted slightly. “Then what is?”

“I want to be the kind of man she’d want to be with,” I said. “Not someone she has to justify or defend to her coworkers. Just someone who’s worthy of her.”

Emotion flickered across my sister’s face before she masked it with a professional calm. “You’ve never talked like this about anyone before.”

“That’s because there’s never been anyone like her. I see that now.” I stared down at the conference table thoughtfully. “I could triple my net worth in the next decade. Expand Crowne Medical globally just like we planned and acquire five more hospital systems, but none of that would buy me a woman like Bree. I’m going to make sure she knows how much I care about her.”

She leaned back in her chair, giving me that same evaluating look she used when auditing financial risk. “I’m proud of you, but don’t think this is the end of it.”

“I don’t.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, Sullivan. Changing payroll is easy. Changing how people see you?” She shook her head slightly. “That’s going to take time. Consistency is key. I’m glad you’ve learned from all this. It’ll sure make our next expansion easier, but you’re also going to have to have the uncomfortable conversations.”

“I can handle uncomfortable.”

She smirked. “You say that now.”

“I’ll talk to the people,” I said reluctantly. “Not only those who work for Crowne Medical, but those who work for us as part of Saint Raphael’s now too. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

She nodded once, satisfied but cautious. “Then prove it. God speed, big brother. Heaven knows, you’re going to need it.”

CHAPTER 37

BREE

Idragged my feet the entire walk from the parking garage to the hospital entrance, like the extra few seconds might somehow inject courage into me I didn’t have yet. When I finally reached the sliding doors, I just stood there for a moment, staring at my reflection in the glass.

My gaze lingered on my scrubs and my badge, cataloging the tiny crack in the plastic clip I’d been meaning to replace for months. The doors slid open with a soft mechanical sigh and muscle memory was the only thing that carried me inside. The familiar antiseptic smell hit first, followed by the steady rhythm of the hospital waking up for the day, phones ringing, carts rattling, and voices layered over each other in a language made up of urgency and routine.

I slowed as I walked past reception, my gaze catching on details I usually missed because I was always moving too fast. The faded corner of the welcome sign. The coffee stain near the nurses’ station that wouldn’t scrub out of the tile, and the bulletin board cluttered with thank-you cards from patients and crayon drawings from kids who’d made it home.

I’d dreamed about working here for so long that when I finally got the job, it’d felt like stepping into the life I was always meant to have. Now I was walking through it like it was already a memory.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as the reality of what I was about to do pressed heavily against my ribs, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to do it. Today would be my last day at Saint Raphael’s hospital.

This was my last shift. Quitting meant incurring the contract penalty and paying back the money they’d invested in my nurse practitioner program, but I’d made my peace with that. Even if the number was large enough to make my stomach twist every time I thought about it. I’d probably be living on instant noodles for the next decade, but it still wasn’t enough to change my mind.

Besides, maybe I can sell plasma. Or a kidney. I’m pretty sure I only need one of those.

The idea almost made me smile, but it faded quickly, replaced by the truth I had been avoiding for weeks. This decision wasn’t just about the hospital changing. Sure, I hated watching decisions being made by someone who didn’t understand the pulse of this place yet. I hated the thought of staff being reduced to numbers on a spreadsheet. I hated the way uncertainty had settled into every break room conversation, every shift handover, and every tired glance shared in hallways.

But if I was honest, that wasn’t why I couldn’t stay. I stopped near the elevator bank, staring at the glowing numbers as they ticked down, and finally admitted it to myself without flinching.

I can’t keep working here because Sullivan Crowne isn’t just another breakup.

He wasn’t the kind of man who would fade into the background with time and distance. He’d rooted himself somewhere deep and immovable inside me, and every accidental glimpse of him in a hallway, every mention of his name in a meeting, and every rumor about his latest decision felt like someone pressing on a bruise that would never be able to heal.

Not as long as I was here anyway. I swallowed hard, blinking against the sting behind my eyes. Because the truth was worse than I’d realized before—I was in love with him.

It wasn’t the messy, impulsive kind I used to fall into when I was younger either. This felt different, like it had settled into my bones and made leaving feel like tearing out something vital.

As much as I hated what he was doing to the hospital, I understood it now in a way I hadn’t wanted to before. The fifth floor, the urgency, and his relentless push to build something that might save lives like his mother’s.

He wasn’t trying to destroy this place. He was trying to fix something he’d never been able to fix before, but that didn’t make the fallout easier to watch. It didn’t make the collateral damage hurt less.