Chapter 5

Nicole's POV

I scrub the last plate until the water runs clear, the suds sliding away like everything I’m trying to wash from my hands.

It's not like it's my job to wash the dishes. I just need some to keep me distracted. It feels good to do something ordinary after dinner. Ordinary being a clean plate, a folded towel, a small ritual that keeps me calm.

My arms ache. My feet ache. My head is too loud with all the things I heard last night. Someone tampered with Alex’s bike. Someone tried to kill him- is he really safe.

“Why am I worried about him”

“Need a hand?” David’s calm voice pulls me from my thoughts. He stands in the doorway with his sleeves rolled up, a grin already in place like he’s been carrying it since morning.

I hand him a towel without looking up. “I’m fine. I’ll be done in a second.”

He dries a glass and watches me. “You talk more when you’re nervous.”

I give him a look that says I don’t. He keeps watching, not pressing, and somehow that is its own kind of comfort. “How are you actually doing?” he asks after a beat.

“Busy,” I say. The word tastes small and false in my mouth.

He leans his hip against the counter, casual, but his eyes are serious. “You look tired.”

I laugh. “Who wouldn’t be? I’m a nurse, David. Exhaustion is part of the job.”

He hums, a low sound that could be a laugh or an agreement. “Good. Keep being needed then. I hear it suits you.”

We talk a bit, about nothing important and then about things that matter, the sort of small confessions that people have over a sink. He tells me about a race he lost when he was sixteen, and I also tell him about my mother’s mornings, the small routines that keep her steady. He listens like I’m the only person in the room.

For a few minutes, the world shrinks to warm light and drying dishes.

Then the back door opens and Megan walks in. Her face is tight, eyes like winter. She takes one look at us and the warmth evaporates.

“What’s happening here?” she asks. Her voice is sharp, the kind that makes people stand straighter.

David jumps back like he’s been caught. “We were just…”

“Flirting,” she says.

I want to tell her it was nothing, that it was a joke, a moment that didn’t mean anything. But there is a weight in the room like someone already decided the verdict.

Megan’s mouth thins. “You know the rules. You’re a professional here, Nicole. The house is not a place for personal… entanglements.”

“I was only helping with the dishes,” I say. My voice is shaky. If I lose this job, I won't be able to afford my mother’s next treatment.

Megan’s eyes are cold. “You won’t last here. I’ll make sure of it.”

The words hit me hard.

“You can’t” I start, but she cuts me off with a laugh.

“Oh, I can. I know who to call. One phone call to your supervisor and you'll lose your job, very fast.” Her threat hangs in the air like a blade.

My hands go numb. The towel slips through my fingers. “You wouldn’t”

I open my mouth; nothing comes. I feel the kitchen tilt and the floor under me lose its shape. I am suddenly very aware of everything I could lose.

Before I can think of a reasonable answer, David moves.

He steps between us with a slow, deliberate motion, placing himself in front of Megan. “That’s enough, Meg,” he says. His voice is cool and steady. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

Megan’s jaw tightens. “You always side with the pretty ones.”

David's voice cut in. “leave her alone.”

Megan stares at him for a long second, and then she turns, taking her leave. “This isn’t over,” she says, and leaves a pressure behind the way a closing door leaves a draft.

David exhales and rubs his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he says. I could feel the softness in his voice. “I should’ve”

“You didn’t have to,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

David watches me for a moment, then steps closer. He sets his hands on either side of the sink like he is closing the space between us and then, before I can think, he leans forward and kisses me.

It’s quick. A soft press of lips that catches me off guard, that makes my heart flip in a way I haven’t felt since…since that night months ago I try not to think about. For half a second everything is in slow-motion, like a film with no soundtrack.

Then the present rushes back and I pull away. My breath is loud.

“D-David,” I stutter.

He runs his fingers through his hair, embarrassed and serious at the same time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to” His words fumble.

“No,” I say, steadying myself. “I can’t. I can’t do this. Not here. Not like this.” The words come out harsher than I want. He looks wounded, but it’s too late. I already know the rules. I have to protect my job.

He nods slowly, like he understands, though his eyes are not quite the same. “I get it,” he says, and there’s something almost aching in the way he says it. “I just” He stops, as if the rest of the sentence is a bridge he isn’t ready to cross.

We stand there in the quiet, two people who almost let something good happen, but pulled away because life is too complicated.

I walk away to my room with my hands in my pockets and my stomach hollow. I can’t shake how his fingers lingered in my hair, how his mouth fit mine for a second. It can still feel it and it scares me. The house feels smaller and the walls thinner.

I sit on my bed confused. David makes me feel seen, but my body can seem to forget Alex.

Later that night, I go to Alex for a final check before he goes to bed.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says, voice clipped.

I set my bag down, trying to keep my tone calm. “It’s routine. Vitals, then I’ll go.”

I reach for the cuff, slipping it over his arm. But it trembles in my hands. His gaze, following my every movement.

“You kissed him.”

The words drop like a stone in water.

My breath stumbles. “It was a mistake,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have, I know I’m supposed to be professional. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

The room is silent. My apology hangs in the air, could it be how it ends for me.

Then Alex wheels forward, slow, deliberate. He finally stops.

“Enough.” His voice is quiet.

“Drop the act, Nicole.” His eyes lock on mine, unblinking. The next words slice clean through every wall I’ve built.

“Why are you pretending you don’t know me?”