Page 65 of Scout

24

Kendrix

I sit in the breakroom,staring at the vending machine as if it might answer me. My coffee’s gone cold. I don’t even remember drinking it.

Scout didn’t look at me when he walked into that trauma room. Not once.

He went straight to her—fell to his knees beside Juniper, the world shrinking down to just the two of them. The second he touched her, he seemed to breathe again.

She needed him. And he needed her.

Not me. Not Xavier. Just Juniper.

I wanted to go to him. I really did.

But I didn’t know if I had the right anymore.

And I hated that I didn’t know.

“He looked right through me,” I whisper before I can stop myself. “Just another doctor. A stranger in scrubs.”

Xavier, who is sitting across from me, sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

We haven’t said much since leaving Juniper’s room.

I glance at him. “You think he’ll forgive us?”

“I don’t know,” Xavier admits.

I nod, swallowing down the knot in my throat.

The way Scout sat beside her after the staples, brushing her hair back with trembling hands—he looked older. Worn down. As if the weight of it all finally caught up to him.

“Do we even have a place in his life anymore?” I ask, my voice barely holding steady.

Xavier doesn’t answer right away. Just leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t know. But I want to.”

I let out a breath, then I stand. “I can’t just sit here, Xavier. We let him walk away once. I don’t want to do that again.”

He looks at me. His eyes are tired too, but hopeful. “So what do we do?”

“I don’t know. Show up, I guess. Bring him something. Do something.”

Then an idea clicks. Not big, not perfect—but it’s something.

“We check on Juniper,” I say, “and we send Scout to get something to eat. The man hasn’t eaten. You can see it on him. He looks like he’s been living on fumes and vending machine coffee. We’ll stay with her so he can catch his breath, maybe make some calls, get her stuff in order.”

Xavier nods. “We’ll tell him she’s being discharged tomorrow. Give him something solid to hold on to.”

So that’s the plan. Nothing fancy. Just… help. Be there.

We head toward the room. I slow my pace at the door, nerves crawling up my throat, but I knock lightly and ease it open.

Scout’s inside, perched on the edge of Juniper’s bed. His hand is holding hers, his thumb brushing soft circles over her skin. Her eyes are half-lidded, sleepy but still aware. She smiles when she sees us.

“Hey,” Xavier says gently. “We just wanted to let you know… we’re discharging her tomorrow morning. Everything still looksgood on her scans and vitals and Hillary said you guys got family services all figured out.”

Scout nods. “Thanks.”