The hospital lights were harsh and too bright as Emily stepped out of the rain-soaked evening and into the familiar, sterile quiet of the fourth floor. Her shoes squeaked faintly against the clean tile floor, and her damp coat clung to her arms.
But her mind wasn't on the chill.
It was still in the backseat of that car.
With him.
Damian Walker.
She replayed every second — from the moment the black car slid up beside her, to the quiet drive, to the way he had offered her the umbrella like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then the words he'd said — "You always try to do everything alone… It's a lonely way to live."
How did he see her so clearly?
And why does that make my heart feel like it's beating too loud?
She shook off the thought as she reached Room 412.
Her grandmother was sitting up in bed, glasses perched on the edge of her nose, scribbling in a crossword puzzle book like she hadn't just been through a health scare two days ago.
Emily smiled. "You're supposed to be resting."
"I'm resting my body, not my brain," Irene said without looking up. "If these nurses had it their way, I'd be in a coma with how much they want me to lie still."
Emily dropped her bag into the nearby chair and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "You're impossible."
Irene grinned. "And yet, you still love me."
"Always."
As she peeled off her coat and settled into the chair beside her, her grandmother looked over her glasses and raised an eyebrow. "You're damp."
"It's raining," Emily said simply, drying her hands with a tissue.
"And you didn't bring an umbrella. Again."
"I wasn't expecting a downpour."
"So what'd you do, run here like a drenched duck?"
Emily hesitated.
Her grandmother's eyes narrowed.
"Emily."
"I… got a ride."
A pause. A long pause.
Then Irene sat straighter, eyes gleaming. "From him, didn't you?"
Emily groaned. "Grandma, please."
"I knew it! My charming, broody hospital visitor from the other night. I saw the way he looked at you."
"He didn't look at me—"
"He looked at you like he was already halfway in love," Irene said, tossing the crossword aside with flair. "Did he drive you himself?"
"No. His driver did."
"Hmm," Irene said, voice full of mischief. "That means he was in the car with you. Which means the two of you had a moment. Am I wrong?"
Emily flushed and looked away. "It wasn't a moment. It was a car ride. He was just being polite. He saw me waiting in the rain and didn't want me to get sick."
Irene gave her the look. The one that said, don't try to outwit me, I raised you.
Emily sighed. "Okay, fine. It was a little awkward. He barely said anything. I barely said anything."
"And yet, here you are blushing."
"I am not blushing."
"You are absolutely blushing."
Emily laughed despite herself and sank deeper into the chair, pulling the blanket up over her knees.
"It's complicated," she murmured. "He's my boss. He's… intimidating. And kind. And cold. And somehow warm at the same time. He confuses me."
Her grandmother tilted her head thoughtfully. "That's how you know it's real. The good ones always confuse you a little."
Emily picked at the edge of the blanket. "He offered to send someone to pick me up later. A car."
Irene whistled low. "He's trying."
"No, he's just being—"
"Emily."
"Okay, maybe he's trying."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before her grandmother spoke again, softer this time.
"You don't have to run from every good thing that shows up in your life."
Emily didn't respond. But she thought about that all evening as she sat beside her grandmother, helped her finish the crossword, and tried not to stare at her phone when it buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
Car will be waiting at 9. Let the driver know if you need anything. —DW
Her heart fluttered.
She didn't text back.
But she smiled.
And suddenly, the rain didn't feel quite so cold anymore.