Reminiscing
I paced outside Claire’s room, my arms crossed tightly over my chest, my jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
I needed to check on her. I needed to make sure she was stable, that there were no complications, that she was—
But I wasn’t on duty. And apparently, I was “too emotional” to be allowed in as a doctor.
The lead surgeon had given me a sympathetic look before shaking his head. “Dr. Laurent, I understand how much this means to you, but you’re too close to the patient. You need to step back.”
Step back?
I wanted to scream. How could I just step back when Claire was lying in there, barely hanging on?
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply as I leaned against the wall.
“Hey.”
I looked up to see Jo walking toward me, holding two cups of coffee. She handed me one before taking a sip of her own.
I sighed, taking the cup from her. “Thanks.”
She leaned against the wall beside me. “You okay?”
I scoffed. “What do you think?”
Jo smiled, nudging me with her elbow. “Figured I’d ask anyway.”
I shook my head, gripping the warm cup tightly. “You waited in the car, took care of the twins, and now you’re still here. I’m sorry for the stress.”
Jo shrugged, sipping her coffee. “It’s fine.”
I turned to her, frowning. “No, really. You didn’t have to stay.”
She grinned. “You think I’d just leave you here to go crazy alone? Please. Who else is going to remind you to breathe?”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “You…you are.”
Jo smirked, sipping her coffee like she had all the time in the world. She was always like that—completely unshaken, always ready with some sarcastic remark to cut through the chaos.
I thought back to when I first hired her.
It had been during one of the busiest, most stressful weeks of my life. I was barely sleeping, juggling surgeries, research, and single motherhood. My previous assistant had quit suddenly, leaving me drowning in a sea of paperwork and scheduling disasters.
And then Jo had walked in.
She was five minutes early, carrying a cheap-looking folder and a confidence that bordered on arrogance. She had big curly hair, bold eyeliner, and a bright red blazer that didn’t match her black pants at all.
“Dr. Laurent?” she had said, sliding into the chair across from me before I even had the chance to tell her to sit. “I hear you need an assistant.”
I had barely glanced up from my computer. “Your résumé?”
She had handed it over, and I skimmed it quickly. No Ivy League degree. No high-profile connections. Just a bachelor’s in business, a few scattered internships, and a short stint managing a coffee shop.
I had been two seconds away from dismissing her when she leaned forward and said, “Look, I know what you’re thinking. I don’t have the most impressive background, but here’s the thing—you don’t need some robotic Ivy League grad. You need me.”
I had raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you think you’re what I need?”
She had grinned. “Because I can handle chaos. You’re running a research facility, working in surgery, raising kids, and somehow still functioning. That tells me two things: one, you need help, and two, you don’t have time to waste micromanaging an assistant. I get things done. I keep things organized. And I do it without needing constant supervision.”
I had stared at her for a long moment before exhaling. “You’re confident.”
“I’m competent,” she had corrected. “And if you give me this job, you’ll never regret it.”
She wasn’t wrong.
From that day on, Jo had been by my side, making my life just a little less of a disaster. She handled my schedule, dealt with annoying board members, and—on days like today—reminded me to breathe.
I glanced at her now, watching as she casually sipped her coffee, completely unbothered by the weight of the night.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice softer this time.
Jo didn’t look at me, just smiled into her cup. “You’re welcome, boss.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I’m so tired, Jo. Of everything. Of running between the hospital and the research facility. Of constantly being on edge. Of feeling like I’m always one step away from everything falling apart.”
Jo nodded like she’d expected this. “You need a break.”
I scoffed. “A break? Jo, I can barely find time to eat properly. Where exactly do you think a break fits into my life?”
She shrugged. “You make time. You have to.”
I shook my head. “Not possible.”
Jo gave me a look. “Remi, I say this with love, but if you keep going like this, you’re going to collapse. And I don’t mean figuratively. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
I exhaled sharply, leaning back against the wall. “It’s just... too much. Claire, the kids, the research facility, the media breathing down my neck after that stupid tabloid article, and—” I stopped myself before I could say Rowan.
Jo caught it anyway. “And what?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, shaking my head.
Jo smirked. “And Rowan Vaughn.”
I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t about him.”
“No?” She sipped her coffee. “Then why did your eye twitch just now?”
I groaned, rubbing my face. “You’re annoying.”
“I’m right,” she corrected. “And I’m also right about you needing to step back for a minute. You can’t be everything for everyone all the time.”
Before I could argue, the door to Claire’s room opened, and a doctor stepped out.
“Dr. Laurent?”
I straightened immediately. “Yes?”
He gave me a tired but reassuring look. “We’ve checked her vitals. She’s stable. Her body is adjusting well, but she’ll need extensive therapy—both physical and psychological. Her burns are healing, but there will be long-term scarring. And her pain management will have to be carefully monitored.”
I swallowed. “And her cognitive functions?”
“She’s responsive,” he said, nodding. “Her brain activity is strong. But the trauma, both physical and emotional, will take time to process. She may not be able to communicate much right away.”
I nodded, absorbing everything. “What can she handle right now?”
“Short visits,” he said. “No overwhelming stimulation. Keep conversations simple, and don’t push her to talk if she’s not ready.”
I exhaled, my grip tightening around my coffee cup. “Thank you, doctor.”
He gave me a small nod before walking away.
I stared at the closed door for a long moment.
Jo gently nudged my arm. “Go,” she said. “She’s waiting for you.”
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