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“It’s really sweet, what you’re doing for Dr. King,” Robby had said, before he clocked out to ride that donorcycle off into the western horizon.
“What,” Frank had said, mind blank and buzzy. All he could really absorb from Robby’s words was the gist of them— that he wasn’t forgiven, and wouldn’t be, any time soon. Like they’d tried to tell him over and over again in rehab, sometimes you'd fucked it, permanently, and had to live with the consequences. Frank had just never been one for accepting defeat until it punched him in the face.
“Looking out for her whenever you're together, making sure she’s comfortable,” Robby added brusquely, sifting through his locker for any last shreds of detritus. “She’s my best resident, she’s going to have a fantastic career in the ED as long as she doesn’t burn out, and I know she hasn’t had the easiest time making friends. Keep being her big brother in here while I’m gone, okay?”
Underlying subtext: it’s the only thing I trust you to do right anymore.
Underlying subtext: don’t you dare screw her like you screwed me.
And a big brother wasn't supposed to fantasize about undoing his little sister's tightly-wound braid, wonder what she’d look like with all that long hair fanned out over his pillow, back arching in his bed. She worked so hard; in here every day, and then with Becca, wrangling her group home’s frustrating admin and her Medicaid coverage, making sure she was safe and happy. He’d take such good care of Mel, like she always took care of everybody else, if she’d only let him. Just not quite in the way Robby meant.
He let himself entertain the fantasy of building a life and a home with her in minute increments, then a department-mandated piss test or a phone notification about tonight’s NA meeting always shattered it, reminded him just how thoroughly he’d fallen from grace. Frank was from West Virginia, the Sackler family’s playground; yeah, yeah, a walking, talking stereotype, no matter how hard he’d tried to run away from his fate. He was the first Langdon to finish high school and had worked two jobs to get through undergrad at Appalachian State and his parents had taken out a second mortgage and thrown an all-night rager when he was accepted to med school at Chapel Hill and this was how he’d repaid them. His mother had cried hysterically for an hour when she found out; his dad had finally grabbed the receiver out of her hand and called him a fucking idiot, with none of his usual affection, who might have two degrees but no fucking sense. Frank’s actual sister Molly bounced between jail, short-term psych holds, detox, the street. They were raising his niece Brooklyn, starting kindergarten this year; his nephew Cash lived with his biological father’s aunt, they watched him grow up through pictures on Instagram taken at pumpkin patches and teeball practice, his face covered by an emoji. He should’ve known better, and now he was going to be paying for this for the rest of his life—
In the literal sense. Three hundred grand and counting in student loan debt, twenty thousand piled on top of that number for rehab; hell, tack on an inevitable few more bands for a divorce attorney, once Abby’s urge to run won out over her fear of making him relapse. He’d learned in treatment, whether that was the intended message or not, that his love was a selfish, grasping thing, inherently suspicious. Getting mixed up with a broke, still-technically-married junkie with two young children would be the worst possible outcome for Mel, who still had her entire future ahead of her. If he gave a damn about her he’d go straight home after his shift and sign up for that couples’ pickleball league Abby was always nagging him about, reminding him that his shrink had said exercise was a healthy coping mechanism. Join a Bible study and finally get his ass right with God. Pray for Him to strike this desire from his heart, once and for all.
“Dr. Langdon? Frank? Sorry, are you busy?”
He was sick. A fucking pervert. Determined to wreck everything sweet and pure left in his life, whether it was the second chance to wake up to his kids’ sticky kisses every morning or the trusting way Mel looked at him, like none of the million times he’d blown it made him any less worthy of her adoration. She was starting to smile at him as she launched into a summary of the case, eyes bright, hand brushing his scrubs and making him wonder how it’d feel on his skin. He smiled back against his better judgment and let her lead him down the hall, into temptation.