Chapter Text
The clinking of ice against glass and the constant hum of the air conditioner in the living room were the only sounds competing with the rapid pounding in Trinity Santos’s ears. New York, in late spring, had a spectacular glow to it, but from the fifteenth floor of the García family’s apartment in Manhattan, the city skyline looked like a blurred canvas.
Trinity, a second-year emergency medicine resident — used to dealing with code blues, stab wounds, massive heart attacks, and the absolute chaos of the emergency room at the hospital from The Pitt — felt completely defenseless. She had spent the last two months juggling thirty-six-hour shifts, swapping call schedules with resentful coworkers, and practically begging the chief resident for something that bordered on miraculous: synchronizing two full weeks of vacation with Yolanda García.
Yolanda, a fourth-year general surgery resident, was her grounding force. At the hospital, Yolanda was a relentless surgeon, with a steady hand and a cold stare capable of intimidating even the department chief himself. But here, dressed in comfortable jeans and a soft linen blouse, she radiated a warmth Trinity was still learning to accept as something meant for her.
Trinity caught Yolanda turning toward her from the corner of her eye. Her scrutinizing gaze — the same one she used to detect subtle postoperative complications — softened instantly.
“Are you okay?” Yolanda asked softly, tilting her head.
It was Trinity’s own fault for being as readable as an open book, at least to her. At the hospital, Trinity knew how to wear the mask of professional detachment, but around Yolanda, her defenses crumbled with alarming ease.
“Yeah, I am. It’s just…” Trinity paused, searching for the right words in her mind overloaded with medical terminology. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Trin, cariño,” Yolanda said in that warm, comforting voice she reserved for intimate moments. She lowered her hand and reached for Trinity’s, finding the skin marked with ink. With slow, gentle circular motions, she began rubbing the tattoo on Santos’s hand with her thumb. “They’re going to adore you. Actually, they already do.”
Trinity blinked, genuinely bewildered. She turned toward her, frowning with a mixture of disbelief and tenderness.
“What? How?”
Yolanda let out a quiet laugh, a sound that reminded Trinity why enduring the daily hell of emergency medicine shifts was worth it.
“I talk about you all the time, Trin. My mom even knows your favorite coffee order, and my dad has already made three jokes about ER doctors that he found online just to break the ice.” Yolanda’s smile shifted into something more playful, though tinged with warning. “Although… Rafa, my older brother, has his doubts. He’s not going to give in until you pass his five tests proving you’re worthy of his little sister’s love. So get ready, because he uses a lot of tequila shots to figure out the intentions of anyone who wants to date his favorite little sister. But he’s harmless, I promise.”
“Five tests? And tequila?” Trinity swallowed hard. She had survived pediatric trauma rotations, but the mention of a protective older brother armed with Mexican liquor sent a chill down her spine. “Yolanda, my alcohol tolerance is that of a med student who falls asleep after half a beer.”
“You’ll be fine, Dr. Santos. I’ll resuscitate you if necessary,” Yolanda joked, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek just as the kitchen door swung wide open.