Chapter One: Reunion

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Nick Nelson was out of breath. Please, no more life-or-death scenarios tonight, he thought to himself. Two resuscitations, a severed thumb, and a multi-car crash with two teenagers life-flighted to King's College and three adults rushed to surgery was enough catastrophe for one shift in this small city hospital. Not to mention the odd broken bones, asthma attacks, and the usual frequent flyers. Nick loved his job as a staff nurse in accident & emergency, but every so often, the exhaustion would catch up with him.

"It's gotta be a full moon," said Rosa, coolly sliding into the rolling chair next to him with a smile, narrow brown eyes sparkling. Rosa Garcia had been a nurse for just two years, and Nick recognized shades of his own youth in her boundless energy and enthusiasm.

"Yeah, maybe," said Nick, smiling absently and recalling why he never worked the night shift anymore.

"You've got another one in bay 12, Nick," called Cheryl, the nurse manager, as she hustled from one end of the unit to the other. "Bicycle vs. pedestrian; you've got the pedestrian. Vitals are stable, both brought themselves in."

She tossed him a glance that was both sympathetic and serious, and then turned to his colleague.

"Cyclist is in bay 16, Garcia," she added, nodding in Rosa's direction. "She's all yours."

Nick looked up at the ceiling as Cheryl passed by and rounded the corner, closing his eyes for a moment and running one hand through his sandy blond hair. Composing himself, he nodded at Rosa before rising from his chair and checking his orange scrub pockets for his pen light and stethoscope.

Broad-shouldered, perceptive, and dependable, Nick was a model nurse. His supervisors, colleagues, clientele — even the physicians — all adored him. The job was draining, but at the end of the day he knew that none of the other staff could put hurt and frightened patients at ease the way he could. Nick had always been able to read people extremely well. And he knew that in their scariest moments, all people really wanted, aside from their health, was to feel seen and heard.

He considered all of this, grounding himself as he rolled his workstation toward the far end of the unit, searching the electronic medical record by room. Ah yes, bay 12. He traced the pad of his finger across the row of demographic data, stopping short when he reached the patient's name.

Charles F. Spring. Male. Date of birth: April 27. Age 34.

Nick felt a rising pressure in his throat. It couldn't be the same Charles Spring... could it? He hadn't seen Charlie in 17 years. Not since the night they broke up; not since the summer before Nick went to Leeds for university. Nick had thought about Charlie so many times since then. He had unfollowed Charlie's social media accounts after the split; seeing those icy blue eyes appear out of nowhere while mindlessly scrolling on his phone had been too jarring. Every once in a while, Nick had thought about sending Charlie a DM, or of secretly reaching out to one of his close friends for an update. But he had never dared. His grief was still too intense. And surely Charlie had moved on.

Remembering to breathe again, Nick shook his head, gripped his computer on wheels, and steeled himself as he pushed back the curtain and entered Charlie's room.

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