I came out on six.
At the far end of the hall, the elevator opened.
Nate stepped out.
Jeans.
Gray sweater.
No badge.
Marcus was right behind him.
“Doc, stop!”
Nate didn’t stop.
He was walking fast toward the glass doors at the end of the hall.
Office of the Chief of Surgery.
Owen stood outside them.
One hand on the handle.
“Owen!” Nate shouted.
Owen turned.
“Don’t,” Nate said.
“Don’t you dare.”
Marcus caught Nate’s arm.
This time, it wasn’t gentle.
Nate yanked free.
Marcus grabbed him again.
Nate’s shoulder hit the wall.
A framed photo of the hospital board rattled on its nail.
“I’ll call it in, Doc,” Marcus said.
“I swear I will.”
“Then call it in!”
I got between them.
I don’t know how.
I just did.
My back to Nate.
My hands up.
“Marcus,” I said.
“Please.”
“Five minutes.”
“He won’t touch anything.”
“He won’t lay a hand on anyone.”
“Five minutes, and I’ll walk him out myself.”
Marcus looked at me.
Then at Nate.
Then at Owen, frozen by the glass doors.
He let go.
“Five minutes, Mrs. Cole.”
He stepped back.
He didn’t leave.
Nate was breathing hard behind me.
“Owen,” he said.
“Listen to me.”
“You have a son.”
“He’s three months old.”
“You go in there, and you lose everything.”
“Your license.”
“Your career.”
“Maybe your marriage.”
“For what?”
“I already lost mine.”
“It’s done.”
“Let it be done.”
“It’s not done,” Owen said.
“You’ve been living in a parking garage, Nate.”
“Your daughter’s college fund is sitting in the Harmons’ account.”
Nate flinched.
“How do you know about—”
“Lauren told me.”
Nate turned to me.
“You told him?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because he deserved to know what his silence cost.”
Nate looked at me like I’d slapped him.
Then he did something I didn’t expect.
He looked at me the way he used to.
Before the hospital.
Before any of it.
“Laur,” he said.
“Please.”
“Tell him.”
“Tell him it’s not worth it.”
“He’ll listen to you.”
Everyone was looking at me now.
Owen by the door.
Nate by the wall.
