Page 6 of Careless Whisper (Modern Vintage Romances #11)

Reggie

T he hospital gym was tucked in a quiet corner of the sub-basement, beneath the staff lounge and across from supply storage.

This meant it always smelled faintly of rubber flooring, metal, and lemon-scented disinfectant.

It was not glamorous, but it was better than the fancy one in my apartment complex, which was a bit too polished for my liking.

I wiped the sweat from my neck and adjusted my grip on the barbell. My arms were already shaking, but I wasn’t stopping yet. Not until I hit failure.

“Three more,” Luther ordered from beside me, spotting like the human wall he was. “Don’t bail.”

I didn’t answer; just gritted my teeth and pushed through the burn. My muscles screamed, but I got the reps done and racked the bar with a grunt.

“Hell, yeah.” Luther crowed. “You get scarier by the week, Sanchez. ”

I grabbed my water bottle. “You like working out; I do it because I like food, and my Mexican genes are hell on…well, food.”

He dropped down onto the bench next to me.

Even in a gray tank top and sweats, he looked like he could still suit up and block and tackle.

Broad shoulders, thick arms, and a booming laugh that carried across any room, even a surgical ward.

Most people found him intimidating until they heard him talk about his sourdough starter or his favorite rom-coms.

“Seriously though”—Luther caught his breath—“that was a beast set. You okay?”

“Yeah. Just needed to sweat out some rage.”

“Dr. Graham again?”

I didn’t respond, which was answer enough.

He didn’t push. Luther wasn’t like that. He never asked for more than I was willing to give, and that’s probably why I tolerated him in my inner circle—or as close to one as I had outside of my family.

We started working out together a year ago and had become friends. He liked the discipline and routine, and I liked that he didn’t try to fix me.

“Every time you come in here after a shift with him, you hit PRs.” He wiped down the bench. “If this keeps up, we’ll have to thank the asshole.”

He was right, thanks to Elias, I was hitting personal records every day. “Maybe we can shove the thank you up his asshole? ”

He laughed again, then gave me a sideways glance. “You ever gonna tell me what really went down with him? Back in Boston?”

“Maybe. But I don’t want to talk about it right now.” I took another sip of water. He waited, just in case I changed my mind. I didn’t.

He sighed and leaned back against the bench. “You know, not every dude’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, that one was enough.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You’re making me very curious, Sanchez.”

“A little mystery is good for the soul,” I replied laconically.

He knew I had walls, and he respected them…mostly. The thing was, I trusted Luther, well, as much as I could trust anyone these days. But even he didn’t know the whole story of what happened in Boston with Elias and Maren. No one did.

My parents and grandparents knew something had gone very wrong in Boston—that I’d had to leave Stratford, that I’d been treated unfairly.

But they didn’t know about Elias. About the nights in the on-call room.

The coffee runs. The plans that never entirely made it out of whispered promises.

I’d let them believe it was just a professional fallout.

It was easier that way. They would’ve asked why I didn’t fight harder, why I didn’t burn it all down, or let them do it for me.

But if I had told them, I would have broken down— and they would have been devastated. My family loved me, and no matter what I did, they supported me. Seeing me in pieces would hurt them, and I didn’t want that on my conscience.

“So what about you?” I asked, changing the subject. “How’s the night shift on telemetry?”

Luther shook his head. “Boring. I caught a kid trying to sneak a vape pen into the oxygen room, though.”

My eyes widened. “ Jesus .”

“Right?” He rolled his eyes. “I was like, my man, do you want to blow us all up and fail rehab?”

We both laughed, and for a second, the tension inside me eased.

I stood up and grabbed a towel from my bag that I had randomly thrown in.

I groaned when I realized it was one from my college years that I rarely used. It was one of those expensive embroidered ones my grandmother had insisted on monogramming because “ Darling, you should never look like you’re borrowing towels .”

Luther raised an eyebrow when he saw the stitching. “Is that towel fucking embroidered with your name?”

I shrugged. “It was a gift.”

“From?”

“My grandmother.”

“Your abuela monogrammed your towel?” he asked, his eyes wide .

“My other grandma.” The one with a gazillion-million-dollar apartment in Manhattan.

Luther eyed me carefully. “You know you don’t talk about your family. Most people who don’t…it’s because they don’t like their family. You are close, but I hear fuck all about them.”

“They are…fine?” I suggested mockingly.

“Yeah, okay, Nurse Mysterious.” He grinned, but there was curiosity behind it—like he wanted to ask: who are you really ?

But he didn’t. And I didn’t tell him. Usually, when people found out my mother’s last name, they changed how they behaved around me.

I’d seen it often enough while I was growing up, so I didn’t talk about it, and now it had become a habit.

We finished in silence, moving through the cool-down. After, I headed for the locker room, towel slung over my shoulder and skin still warm from the workout. My muscles ached in a good way. I didn’t bother to linger. Just hit the showers, quick rinse, then home.

I stepped out ten minutes later, hair damp, gym bag slung across my body, when I nearly collided with a wall of muscle that had ice-blue eyes…and a bone to pick.

Fuck!

“Seriously?” Elias snapped.

“Huh?” That seemed like the most appropriate response.

“You and Luther?” he said, voice low but sharp.

I blinked slowly. “Huh? ”

“I saw you in the gym. Frankly, if you’re involved with someone on my team, HR needs to be made aware of it. It’s disruptive. It compromises dynamics. It creates bias?—”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Very,” he retorted tightly. “Relationships between staff complicate things—especially when one party is on probation.”

I just stared at him. For a full beat. Then another. And then—I laughed.

It started as a huff of disbelief, but then it rolled out, full and sharp, echoing in the corridor outside the locker room. Elias’s expression darkened.

“Oh my God.” I pressed a hand to my stomach. “You actually think I’m sleeping with Luther?”

His jaw locked. “It’s not unreasonable to?—”

“Luther,” I sputtered, still half-laughing, “has a partner. His name is Giovanni. They’ve been together for six years. I’ve been to their Christmas brunch. They wear matching sweaters.”

Elias didn’t say anything. Just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes narrowing like he was recalculating everything in real time.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, suddenly not finding his accusations even remotely amusing. “You don’t know me. You never did. I really didn’t think you could get any more arrogant, and here we are.”

He opened his mouth, but I was already walking.

“Reggie— ”

“You’re not my boss outside the OR,” I snapped over my shoulder. “And even if you were, I’d still tell you to go to fucking hell for making comments about my private life.”

Son of a bitch!