I shake my head once. "Rain check. She's just off a twelve. Then Candace on top of it. She's going to be done."
Maggie's mouth softens. She nods, like she already knew. "Then you feed her there. And you make sure she sleeps."
"Yes, ma'am."
Malachi watches her disappear back into the kitchen. "She ever scare you?"
"Daily," I reply.
He snorts, but his eyes keep flicking toward the hallway. Mine too. The door at the top of the hall stairs finally opens. The footsteps on wood are even and measured. Then there she is.
Sloane descends in her faded navy scrubs and beat-up Converse, dark hair piled in a messy knot slipping at the sides. There's a faint crease from a pillow on one cheek. She must've sat with Candace long enough to end up on the bed for a minute.
Her face is calm. Too calm. Anyone else would see "tired nurse." I see the tightness at the corner of her mouth, the way she tucks her thumb into her palm and presses like she's keeping herself from shaking.
All I can think is: come here. Let me hold you. Let me get that look off your face.
She spots Malachi first. Her shoulders square, her professional mask sliding into place.
"How is she?" he asks, straightening from the wall.
"She's banged up, but she's okay." Her voice is steady, a little hoarse from a long day. "Bruising, some swelling, a sprain I want to watch. No concussion symptoms. She's exhausted. Rest is the best thing for her right now."
"You sure?"
"If I wasn't, we'd be at Willowridge General." Steel slides into her tone. "If you notice any confusion, nausea, or dizziness, you call me. Otherwise? Food, water, sleep. And people who love her close by."
"We've got that."
Ruby's already on her feet, curls bouncing as she moves toward us. "Can I go up? Or is she—"
"If she'll let you. She's… raw. But she asked about you."
Ruby blows out a breath. "Okay. Good. We'll do snacks and trash TV and I will bully her into drinking water."
Malachi mutters, half to himself, "Pretty sure I'm the one she's not letting in."
Ruby pats his chest as she passes. "Yeah, well. She thinks you're mad. She'll get over it. Or I'll make her."
Frankie trails after her more slowly, catching Sloane's eye as she goes by.
"You good?" she asks quietly.
Sloane nods once. A lie, but the kind she knows Frankie will clock without making a scene.
I step in then, close enough that her shoulder almost brushes my chest. "Hey, nurse. You done saving my people for the day?"
She leans back into me just slightly, like her spine remembers before her brain catches up. Barely. But I feel it in my whole chest. My hand finds the small of her back, tracing circles over the muscles there.
I can read her from across a room. Right now her shoulders are tight, her breaths are shallow, and her fingers are pressed into her thigh. She's tired. Strung out. Running on fumes.
Malachi scrubs a hand over his face. "Thank you," he tells her in a rough voice. "For coming. For—"
"Malachi," she says gently. "You did the right thing. She's here. She's got eyes on her." His shoulders drop a fraction.
Sloane does that to people. Walks into a room strung tight, and somehow everyone else's shoulders drop.
"You eaten?" I ask.