Page 3 of Once Upon A Second Chance

And suddenly, there she is.

Penny Morgan, in blue scrubs, her bronze hair pulled back into a ponytail, a few strands escaping to curl at the nape of her neck. She’s demonstratingan arm rotation for an elderly man on the exam table, her movements fluid, confident.

Then she turns.

Time stops.

Her eyes—green as the hills outside Knoxville—widen. Her lips part. For one suspended second, we’re twenty-two again, standing in her dorm parking lot in the rain, her voice breaking as she asks me not to go.

Then it’s over.

"Richard." My name in her mouth is careful, neutral.

"Penny." I sound hoarse.

Mr. Higgins looks between us. "You two know each other?"

"We went to school together," she says, turning back to him, her smile never reaching her eyes. "A long time ago."

I step forward, facing the patient, clutching the file like a shield. "I’m Richard Hogan. Dr. Holloway asked me to consult."

Penny nods, stepping aside. But I don’t miss the way her fingers tighten around her clipboard, the way her shoulders tense as I brush past her to examine Mr. Higgins.

The room smells like antiseptic and the vanilla lotion she always used.

Twelve years.

And just like that, I’m drowning in her again.

The exam table paper crinkles as Mr. Higgins shifts under my hands. His shoulder is warm beneath my fingers, the scar from surgery still pink and raised. I rotate his arm gently, feeling the catch in the joint.

"Does this hurt?"

"Only when I breathe heavily," he grumbles, then winks at Penny. "Which, at my age, is all the damn time."

Penny huffs a laugh—that same quiet exhale she used to make when I’d tell terrible jokes in the library at UT. The sound hooks up under my ribs.

I keep my eyes on Mr. Higgins’ shoulder. "Range of motion is limited, but the repair looks solid. Just needs consistent rehab."

"That’s whatI’ve been telling him," Penny says. Her voice is professional, but I hear the edge. "If he’d actually do his home exercises—"

"Now, darlin’, don’t you start," Mr. Higgins interrupts. He looks between us, eyes sharp despite his age. "You two sweet on each other back in college?"

My fingers slip on the stethoscope.

Penny’s cheeks flush pink. "Mr. Higgins—"

"Because I may be old, but I ain’t blind." He grins, revealing a crooked front tooth. "The way you’re both not-lookin’ at each other? That’s a story right there."

The air in the room thickens. Penny busies herself with adjusting the shoulder brace. I clear my throat.

"Let’s focus on your recovery," I say, too stiff.

When I reach for the pen in my pocket, Penny moves at the same time to hand me hers. Our fingers brush. We both recoil like we’ve been burned.

The pen clatters to the floor.

Mr. Higgins whistles low. "Yep.Definitely a story."