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You adjusted the ventilator settings with practiced precision, your fingers dancing across the control panel. The rhythmic hiss of the machine matched your steady breathing. Beneath it, the familiar static of your thoughts rose unbidden and unwelcome.
They’re probably just being nice to you.
Your hand paused over the oxygen flow rate dial. The elderly patient slept peacefully, unaware of your momentary lapse in concentration.
Jack and Robby are attendings, senior attendings at that. Why would they want anything to do with you.
You blinked hard, forcing your attention back to the task at hand. The O2 saturation hovered at 93%. The number was acceptable but you could do better. You made a minor adjustment and watched with satisfaction as the numbers slowly climbed.
You’re convenient. A distraction. Something new. They’ll be tired of you soon enough.
The monitor beeped confirming your improved readings. You made a note in the chart, hands trembling. Three months into your relationship with both men and these thoughts still ambushed you at the most inappropriate times.
You’d had trouble with intrusive thoughts your entire life. Sometimes they’d be quiet, rare for months at a time. And sometimes they never fucking stopped. Sometimes they sounded just like your father.
How long before they get bored? Before they realize you’re not worth the trouble?
STOP IT! you screamed in your head. Just stop.
You shook your head as if that might dislodge the toxic thoughts clinging to your brain. You finished documenting the new ventilator settings, double-checking each one. The routine was comforting. Numbers didn’t lie, didn’t pity, didn’t pretend to want you around. Measurements were reliable in ways people weren’t.
“Hey, RT,” a nurse called as you exited the room. “Bed four’s back from CT and ready for that nebulizer when you get a chance.”
“On it,” you replied, grateful for the distraction from your spiraling thoughts.
But as you prepared the nebulizer treatment, your mind betrayed you again.
Dinner was so awkward last night. They kept exchanging those looks. They’re probably trying to figure out how to let you down easy. To tell you this was all a mistake.
The medication slipped from your fingers, clattering on the cart. You caught it before it rolled off, but not before Parker Eliis noticed your fumble from the hall as she walked past. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched you recover.
You managed to finish preparing the nebulizer without further incident, administered the treatment and were updating the chart when Parker appeared at your elbow.
“Breakroom. Five minutes.” Her tone left no room for argument and she disappeared down the hallway.
For the next five minutes, you completed your tasks mechanically. By the time you pushed open the breakroom door, your palms were damp with sweat.
Parker sat at a table, two cups of coffee in front of her. She nodded at the chair beside her. “Sit.” She slid one of the coffees toward you. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just tired.”
“Bullshit.” Her directness was both her most jarring and most appreciated quality. “You’ve been checking and rechecking vent settings all night and you dropped meds earlier. You’re not tired. You’re distracted.”
You wrapped your hands around the warm cup. “It’s personal.”
“Is it about Jack and Robby?”
“How did you—”
“Everyone knows you’re seeing them.” She shrugged. “Hospital’s worse than a high school for gossip. Plus, they’ve both been a better mood. Which can I just say thank you for that?”
A small smile tugged at your lips.
“So what’s the problem? Trouble in your three person paradise?”
You stared into your coffee. “I don’t know if they’re serious about me. If this means anything to them. Sometimes, I think…I think they might just feel sorry for me, or I’m convenient, or—”
“Have they given you any reason to think that?” Parker interrupted.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” You rubbed your forehead. “Last night at dinner they kept having these silent conversations and when I asked what was going on they both said ‘nothing’ too quickly. And sometimes when I talk about future plans they get this look like they’re just humoring me.”
Because they don’t see you in their future. Why would they?
You shook your head again, harder this time. “Sorry, I’m being ridiculous.”
Parker studied you for a long moment. “You know what your problem is?”
“I have anxiety and abandonment issues?” you offered.
“You’re not talking to them,” she said with a raised brow. “You’re having full conversations with them in your head and getting upset about things they haven’t even said.”
The accuracy of her assessment stung.
“Jack’s catching up on admin right now,” Parker continued, glancing at her watch. “And you’re almost off shift anyway. Just go ask him what’s up.”
Your heart rate accelerated. “Now? In the middle of his shift?”
“Yes, now. Before you check that poor man in Twenty’s vent for the fifteenth time tonight.”
“But what if…” Your mind immediately constructed the worst possible scenario. Jack annoyed by your interruption, dismissing you and your concerns before asking when you’re going to get the hint and leave them alone.
He’ll think you’re needy. Clingy. He’ll tell Robby and they’ll both realize that you’re too much work.
“Stop that,” Parker said as if she could read your thoughts. “Whatever you’re imaging, it’s not going to happen. But if you don’t talk to them, you’ll sabotage everything with your assumptions.”
You took a deep breath, knowing she was right but dreading the next few minutes all the same.
Parker softened her tone. “Just talk to them. I’m told that’s what adults in relationships are supposed to do.”
She stood and placed a hand on your shoulder. “You deserve to be happy. The worst that can happen is you get an answer instead of torturing yourself with maybes.”
Your feet were heavy as you left the breakroom, every step toward Jack requiring conscious effort.
What if he’s too busy? What if he doesn’t care? What if this is the beginning of the end?
But you kept walking.
Jack sat hunched in front of a computer, frowning at the screen. His fingers tapped on the keyboard with far more force than necessary. You hesitated at the edge of the hub gathering your courage.
This is a mistake. Turn around.
Parker’s words echoed in your mind, pushing you forward. Three steps brought you to Jack’s side, though he didn’t look up as you approached.
“Hey,” you said softer than you’d intended.
Jack’s eyes flicked up briefly before returning to the screen. “Hey yourself.”
“Do you have a minute to talk?” You asked, fingers playing with the hem of your scrub top.
He’s going to say no. Look at his face. He doesn’t want to be bothered with you.
Jack sighed and ran a hand through his silvering curls. He still didn’t look fully away from the screen.
“I’ve got to get this done. Gloria’s been up Robby’s ass about it, but we can talk later.” His tone was clipped with frustration that probably wasn’t directed at you, but it felt personal nonetheless. The dismissal, however reasonable, stung.
“Sure. That’s fine,” you replied, your voice steady despite the sudden hollow feeling in your chest.
Of course he doesn’t want to talk to you. You’re such a fucking idiot.
You took a step backward, then another.
It’s just pity. They feel sorry for you. That’s all.
The air suddenly felt too thin, the lights too bright. You retreated, backing away from Jack’s hunched form, from the conversation that never happened, from the reassurance you desperately needed but couldn’t bring yourself to demand.
First, he’s too busy. Then he’s too tired. Then you’re just too much trouble.
The negative thoughts gathered momentum feeding one another. You returned to your rounds, mechanically going through the actions you needed to take until your shift ended an hour later. You handed over to your replacement, professional even as you felt pieces of yourself flaking away.
***
It was another hour before Parker approached the hub where Jack remained, now closing out of programs. She leaned against the counter beside him, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Did you talk to her?”
Jack glanced up, fatigue evident in the slump of his shoulders. He fucking hated the admin shit. Was happy to leave it to Robby most of the time. “Who?”
Parker’s eyebrow arched dangerously. “Your girlfriend. The one who came to talk to you earlier. The one who looked like she was about to cry when she walked away.”
He stilled, dread settling in his stomach. “She said it could wait.”
“And you believed her?”
“I had to finish this paperwork. Gloria’s been—”
“I don’t care,” she interrupted. “She needed to talk to you and you brushed her off.”
His brow furrowed as he stood. “I didn’t brush her off. I just said we could talk later.”
“And did you look at her face when you said that? Did you even look up from your screen?”
Jack’s silence was answer enough.
“Seriously, Jack?” Parker pushed away from the counter, her annoyance evident. “For someone so observant in a trauma, you are remarkably blind to what’s right in front of you.”
“What?” Jack’s confusion was genuine. “What did I do?”
Parker merely shook her head and walked away, leaving Jack staring after her, the first seeds of concern finally taking root in his head.
***
The nurses station buzzed with the controlled chaos of shift change. Robby stood with his tablet, black scrubs crisp and fresh compared to Jack’s rumpled ones. Around them the day shift filtered in while night shift wrapped up their final tasks. Jack rubbed his tired eyes, the conversation with Parker still gnawing at him as he waited for the right moment to speak to Robby. When Dana stepped away, he seized the opportunity.
“I think I screwed up,” Jack said, voice pitched so only Robby could hear.
Robby’s brown eyes focused on Jack with immediate concern. “Patient?”
Jack shook his head and said your name. His eyes found Parker on the other side of the ED updating another resident.
Robby sat the tablet down and followed Jack’s gaze to the resident. “What happened?”
Jack explained your brief interaction and the conversation with Parker later. With each detail, Robby’s frown deepened.
“She seemed fine with waiting,” Jack finished lamely. “She said it was fine.”
“And you believed her?” Robby’s voice carried the same disbelief Parker’s had. “Jack, when a woman says ‘fine’ like that, it is the opposite of fine.”
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I realize that now.”
Robby leaned closer. “Call her when you get home. Check in with her. Don’t let this fester.”
“You think it’s that serious?”
“I think she’s been pulling away all week and neither of us has addressed it,” Robby said carefully. “This might just be the breaking point.”
Jack’s expression shifted from concern to surprise. “You noticed too?”
“Of course I noticed. I’ve been hoping she’d bring up whatever was bothering her.” Robby sighed. “Call her. We’ll figure it out.”
***
The following days were a series of moments where you masked your internal struggle.
You’d smiled when Jack called, assuring him everything was fine, that you understood how busy work was, that you weren’t upset. All while your mind tormented you.
He’s only calling because he feels obligated. Parker probably said something about how pathetic you were being.
You laughed at Robby’s jokes but pulled your hand away when he reached for it.
Don’t get used to his touch. It won’t last. They’ll realize you weren’t worth it.
You continued to do your work without fault. But each time Jack or Robby appeared, you found reasons to be elsewhere.
Better to withdraw slowly. Make it easier for everyone.
You answered their texts promptly but without your usual warmth.
It will hurt less when they leave if you don’t show them how much you care.
Every interaction with them became an exercise in restraint, in maintaining the distance that would protect your heart when the inevitable happened.
But Jack and Robby weren’t blind. They noticed how you turned your face slightly away when Robby kissed your cheek. They saw how you tensed when Jack placed a hand on your lower back as you walked. They felt the growing space you inserted between your body and theirs whenever you were together.
Their concerned glances increased in frequency. During a quiet shift change, Robby caught Jack’s eye over your head as you updated a chart. You were physically present but emotionally miles away. Jack’s slight nod confirmed they were thinking the same thing. Something had to be done.
A week after Jack’s casual dismissal, schedules aligned and the three of you were off at the same time. The invitation to their home seemed casual. Normal.
“Just dinner,” Robby said. “We haven’t had a proper night together all week.”
This is it. They’re going to end it. They were just waiting for a chance they could both be there. Makes sense.
You almost declined, almost manufactured an excuse. But some part of you wanted to rip the bandage off, to face the rejection head on rather than prolonging the agony. So you agreed, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands.
***
Their house felt different this time. The warm familiarity had been replaced by a tension that hung in the air. Dinner passed with forced conversation and empty laughter. When Robby suggested moving to the living room, your stomach clenched with dread.
You perched on the edge of the couch, shoulders tight, hands clasped in your lap. Jack and Robby exchanged another one of those aggravating looks.
“Are you not happy with us?” Jack asked, his hazel eyes searching your face with an intensity that had you looking away.
The question pierced through you. You opened your mouth to deliver another reassurance, another ‘I’m fine’ but what emerged was a choked sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Happy? I’m terrified.”
Robby moved closer to you on the couch, not touching you but close enough you could feel his warmth.
“Of what?” he asked gently.
“Of this ending.” Your voice cracked. “Of being temporary. Of you both waking up one day and realizing I don’t fit.”
Everything you’d been suppressing came pouring out. How you analyzed every look and gesture for signs they were tired of you. How you questioned why the two of them would ever want someone like you in the first place. How you’d convinced yourself that you were just an experiment they would eventually outgrow.
“Every time you have those silent conversations, I think you’re figuring out how to let me go,” you admitted staring at your hands. “Every time one of you is too busy to talk, I think you’re avoiding me. Every time you say something nice, I think you’re just being kind because you pity me.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Why the fuck would you think we pity you?”
“Because why else would you want me? You two make sense together. I’m just…extra. Unnecessary. Complicated.”
Robby reached for your hand, his touch gentle but insistent. “You are not extra. You’re essential.”
“We don’t pity you,” Jack added, his normally guarded expression open and vulnerable. “We love you.”
Those three words that should have comforted you, sent a fresh wave of panic through you.
“But I haven’t earned it,” you whispered. “I haven’t done anything to deserve it and someday you’ll realize that and I’ll be gone.”
The confession exposed the truth at the heart of your insecurities. Love was something to be earned, not freely given. Love was conditional, transactional, temporary, and if you fucked up it was so, so easy to take it away.
Jack and Robby exchanged another look, but this time you could read it clearly. Concern mixed with a bit of newfound understanding.
“Love isn’t something you earn,” Robby said softly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “It’s something you feel.”
“And we feel it for you,” Jack added, voice laced with sincerity. “Those silent conversations? Half the time we’re checking if the other one noticed how beautiful you look or if we’re both thinking the same thing about something you said.”
“The other half we’re arguing about whose turn it is to take out the trash,” Robby said with a small smile, pulling a watery laugh from you.
“I’m sorry I brushed you off the other night,” Jack said, moving closer until you were bracketed between them on the couch. “I was stressed about paperwork but that’s no excuse. You’re more important.”
“And I’m sorry if we’ve done anything to make you feel temporary,” Robby added. “Because you’re not. Not to us.”
You glanced from one to the other, searching their faces and finding nothing but concern and love. The knot in your chest loosened just a bit.
“I don’t know how to stop these thoughts,” you admitted. “They just come and they sound so convincing.”
Jack took your other hand in his. “Then tell us when they come and we’ll help you fight them.”
For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to lean into them, to accept their touch without pulling away, to consider the possibility they meant what they said.
The thoughts weren’t gone. They hovered at the edge of your mind, waiting for the perfect moment to attack again. But for now, surrounded by the warmth of two people who looked at you like you belonged, they retreated to a whisper you could almost ignore.