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Cassie McKay sighed and took a sip of her now-lukewarm coffee, her eyes drifting back toward the building for any sign of life. This had kind of become their unofficial routine. At least once a week, she’d pick Langdon up and drop him off at therapy, then wait in the car until he was done. Afterward, they’d usually grab breakfast before heading to their shift—or, on the rare day off, just drive around for a while, if he was up to it.
Sometimes he talked. He’d share whatever he felt like from his session, little bits and pieces, never the whole thing, but just enough to make sure she knew he was making some kind of progress. Other times, when he wasn’t in a talking mood, McKay would take the reins instead—giving him life updates, stories about the ER he had missed, how Harrison was doing, what she was binge-watching, and whatever plans she was scheming for the weekend.
Whatever her brain managed to come up with, she was telling - anything was better than the heavy silence that seemed to engulf them from time to time.
She glanced at the digital clock on her dash: 8:02 a.m.
Today was a long session.
Hopefully that was a good sign, McKay thought.
You could never really tell these days. Langdon’s moods had been all over the place since rehab—something she knew, of course she knew, was to be expected. She’d gone through it herself, after all- the messy recalibration of everything: brain, body, identity.
But even then… even knowing that, it didn’t always make it easier to watch.
Some days, on the good days, it was like nothing had ever happened. On those days, he was playful, talkative, and annoyingly charming in the way that made her feel like she had a little brother to drag around. He’d tease her about her music taste or rant about whatever overly ambitious protein bar he’d tried that week. Those mornings felt like a small win.
And then there were the other days.
The quiet ones. When he barely said a word getting into the car. When his shoulders curled inward like he was trying to make himself smaller. When he wouldn’t meet her eyes, and the silence between them felt heavier than it should.
It was like a guessing game—what version of Frank Langdon are we getting today?
McKay hated that game. Mostly because she knew he hated it too.
She looked down at her coffee, swirling it once in the cup before setting it back in the holder.
8:06 a.m.
McKay was pulled from her thoughts when the front door of the building opened. Her eyes immediately locked on the figure stepping out.
She’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.
Between the withdrawal and the turbulence that was his marriage lately, Langdon had lost a good few pounds—fifteen, maybe more, if she had to guess. His dark grey hoodie now hung off him like a curtain, the fabric swallowing up his frame. He looked smaller. Tired. Older.
And then there was the fact that he was basically surviving on Red Bull and protein bars—something Dana had been lecturing him about every time she got the chance.
McKay reached over and unlocked the car just as he reached it. Langdon climbed into the passenger seat with a soft wince, and McKay caught immediately the way his hand shot up to rub his back. Her mouth pulled into a grimace.
Pain days usually meant bad days.
“Hey,” she said gently, offering him a small smile.
Langdon didn’t reply, not even smiled back. Just kept his eyes forward, hands balled in his sleeves.
That told her everything she needed to know.
“That bad?” Cassie asked, trying to keep things casual.
He turned to look at her for the briefest moment before muttering, “Can you just drive? We’re gonna be late this way.”
Ouch.
McKay blinked, inhaling through her nose. “Yes, sir,” she said softly, flipping the ignition and easing the car out of park.
***
For the first ten minutes of the drive, McKay let Langdon sulk in peace. She would risk a glance at him every now and then, but he had either not noticed the looks she was throwing his way or he had just simply chosen to ignore her existence - if she had to bet it was probably the latter. Either way, he stayed curled up against the window, hoodie pulled over his head like he was trying to disappear.
Five minutes later, Cassie had enough. She cleared her throat before speaking.
"You know we’re not doing this to punish you, right?" Cassie asked, sparing him a quick glance, before setting her eyes back on the road.
Langdon scoffed, not making any effort to look at her. "Sure as hell that's what feels like it."
“I thought you said the sessions were helping,” McKay said, pausing as she rolled to a stop at a red light.
“They were,” Langdon said a bit louder now, his blue eyes finding her own blue ones for the first time. “When they were once a week. But now that you and Robby bumped it up to three times a week—”
McKay started to shake her head. “No, no, that’s not—”
“Yes, it is!” Langdon cut in, sitting up straighter now, face starting to flush with anger. “Robby thought I freaked out or something in that overdose case and you agreed with him. Didn’t you?”
McKay opened her mouth to respond, but a car behind them blared its horn. The light had turned green.
She muttered a curse and eased on the gas. “I wasn’t there when it happened,” she said finally, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.
“Exactly,” Langdon shot back. “You weren’t there—and you still took Robby’s side.”
Last week, Langdon and Mel had worked a case—a thirty-six-year-old man, suspected of opioid overdose. The case had gone down exactly how she had expected it to go. It was ugly. Messy. The kind of case that hit too close for comfort. Robby had let Langdon handle the case and while McKay had understood that Robby was trying to prove to Langdon he did trust him on cases like that one, she hadn’t agreed with his choice to let the younger man lead the case. Not with this one. Especially not this soon.
But the call hadn’t been hers to make.
And Langdon had handled it, technically. He’d done the work, administered meds, followed protocol - watching from the outside, you would think nothing was different or wrong - that he had everything under control. But then, the guy hadn’t made it.
Let’s just say Langdon... didn’t take it well, in the slightest.
Even from outside the trauma room, McKay had heard him yelling. Moments later, he’d stormed out, smacking the side table by the door hard enough to send every tray and instrument clattering to the floor. Then, the younger man had disappeared for the rest of his shift.
“It’s not about taking sides, Frank. Damn it, we’re all worried. I’m worried about you,” McKay said, her voice rising in spite of herself. “But you gotta let us help you.”
“Who said I need your help?” He answered back, eyes flashing. “I’m doing just fine.”
“You really believe that?” She tried. “You think the way you handled the aftermath of that OD case was okay? You think that’s how you would’ve reacted a few months ago?”
“Aww, I’m sorry, Cassie, if I can’t act like my old self,” Langdon said, sarcasm thick in his voice as he rolled his eyes.
“That’s not what I said,” McKay justified herself, louder, frustration bleeding through - Langdon was extremely stubborn when he wanted to be.
They were both shouting now.
“You know what? I don’t even know why I’m taking advice from you,” Langdon threw out. “It’s not like you’ve got your life put together either!”
That one stung and Langdon knew that.
McKay closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds before she shot him a sharp look.
Langdon saw it, and his anger deflated just slightly. He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
McKay didn’t answer right away.
“Whatever,” she said finally and kept driving.
***
They drove in silence for a while after that. Neither of them was good at the whole talking-about-feelings bit unless they were yelling or joking their way around it. This time, though, there wasn’t much to laugh about.
They pulled into the Starbucks drive-thru. Cassie didn’t bother asking what he wanted. At this point, she didn’t need to.
“Hi, can I get a venti cold brew with an extra shot, light ice, two pumps of vanilla, and the turkey bacon sandwich?” She asked, giving a few seconds, before adding, “And a tall green tea—no sweetener, hot—not too hot, though. Thanks,” She had already had breakfast earlier with Harrison before she left the house, so tea it was - it was a bit too soon for a second cup of coffee, even for her.
The car ahead of them pulled up, and McKay inched forward.
“I’m sorry, Cassie,” Langdon broke the silence for once.
“I know,” she replied quietly, still watching the brake lights of the car in front of them. Then, after a beat, she added, “And you don’t have to take advice from me. If you think I’m overstepping, just say so.”
“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly, his voice softer than it had been all morning. “You’re not overstepping. You’re… really helpful. You’ve been—” he paused, fumbling for the words, “—you’ve been one of the few people who hasn’t treated me like I’m made of glass. Or like I’m a walking mess.”
Cassie finally glanced over at him, a small, sad smile pulling at her mouth. “Langdon, I’ve been the walking mess. And I hated that everyone tiptoed around me like I’d explode if someone looked at me sideways. I’m just… trying to give you what I wish I’d had.”
Langdon just gave a small nod, not too sure about what else to say.
The car ahead of them moved away, and McKay inched up to the window. When they reached it, the barista leaned out with a tray, bright and chipper.
“Perfect, thanks,” McKay replied, accepting the tray with one hand while Langdon reached over to grab his drink and sandwich.
“You memorized my order,” he said, giving her a small smile as he peeled the wrapper from his sandwich.
“I think that was the easiest part out of everything,” McKay chuckled, settling her tea into the cupholder.
“You’re probably right,” Langdon agreed, taking a bite and giving a small appreciative hum.
McKay pulled out of the lot and headed toward The Pitt. “So… how are the kids?” She asked, trying to lighten up the mood a bit.
Langdon sighed through his nose, but not in a bad way. “They’re doing really well, considering everything. Definitely better than me.”
“You’re allowed to say that,” she said gently, then took a small sip of her tea.
“I’ve got them this weekend,” he added, a note of anticipation warming his tone.
“Oh, that’s really cool,” she said, and then her eyes lit up. “Hey—you know what I used to do with Harrison when he was younger? There’s this place out in Squirrel Hill, Blue Slide Park. Ever been?”
Langdon shook his head. “Sounds like a playground sponsored by a band.”
McKay laughed. “It kind of is, actually. Mac Miller named his album after it. But it’s a real place—big grassy hill, a huge blue concrete slide built right into it. You bring a piece of cardboard, and boom—entertainment for hours.”
Langdon raised his brows. “Let me guess—parent of the year move?”
“Oh, absolutely. It bought me at least an hour of peace. Plus, there’s always a food truck or two parked nearby. And if you go in the morning, it’s mostly toddlers, so no chaotic middle schoolers shoving each other off the top.”
“Tempting,” Langdon nodded, sipping his coffee. “But I’m not too sure I can bribe my kids with cardboard and a slide, they’re getting too smart.”
“Langdon, they are 4 and 1. I once got Harrison to clean his entire room for a packet of fruit snacks and the promise of half an hour at that park. Kids are simple creatures. Use that.”
He snorted. “You’re a dangerous woman.”
“I’m a single mom who’s survived ten years of chaos and two years of middle school,” she said, mock-saluting. “Tactical survival is my love language.”
Langdon laughed—actually laughed—and it loosened something in his chest.
“Thanks, Cassie.”
She glanced over with a lopsided grin. “You’re welcome. And seriously—Blue Slide Park. Add it to the list.”
“Got it,” Langdon replied, setting his coffee down in the cupholder.
“Now eat up or Dana’s going to kill me,” McKay said, motioning at the nearly untouched sandwich still sitting in his lap.
“Yes ma’am,” Langdon said with exaggerated obedience, finally taking a bite. “Happy now?”
“Marginally,” she smirked.
As they pulled closer to the hospital, McKay casually added, “I’m taking Harrison to see that new Minecraft movie this weekend. He’s been talking about it nonstop. Thinks it’s going to change cinema history or something.”
Langdon raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Oh, yes. He’s convinced there’s going to be a cinematic universe. Sequels, spin-offs, merch. You name it. That kind of thing.”
Langdon chuckled. “God help us all.”
“I know,” she said dramatically. “I’m bracing myself for two hours of screaming children. But hey, he’s excited, so…” she shrugged.
“That’s a small price we pay,” Langdon completed her phrase, giving her a soft smile.
“Yeah, it definitely is,” Cassie replied, smiling back at him.
As the hospital came into view, a familiar concrete silhouette against the overcast Pittsburgh sky, McKay slowed the car and pulled into the staff lot.
“Well,” she said, throwing the car into park, “here we are.”
They both lingered for a second, neither making a move to get out just yet.
“I’m sorry again,” Langdon said suddenly, his voice quieter now. “For what I said. About your life.”
McKay met his eyes. “Hey. It’s okay, I promise. I knew you’re upset and I know you have a terrible tendency to lash out when you feel threatened in some way.”
Langdon shot her a questioning look - she knew him too well now.
“Still doesn’t give me the right,” he muttered sheepishly, shame flashing in his expression.
“Hell no,” McKay agreed with a small grin, “but I forgive you.”
Langdon exhaled.
“Now come on,” she added, opening her door. “Let’s go or Robby will eat us both alive.”
Langdon grabbed his coffee and followed her out. “Let the chaos begin.”
Together, they walked toward the entrance of The Pitt, ready for another shift. The two of them knew they would be doing the same thing next week, but hopefully it would be one of the good days for both of their sakes.
***