Mia's POV
The morning air in Saint Haven Medical Center was crisp, almost too clean. Nurses bustled past, murmuring updates and adjusting charts. I tried to keep busy—double-checking patient files, reviewing prescriptions, anything to keep my mind off last night.
Paula had sent me a thousand winks via text after the dinner. Ezra this, Ezra that. I loved it for her. But it also left me alone with thoughts I wasn't ready to admit out loud.
Like the way Ryan had been… different.
He hadn't said much, but something had shifted in his eyes. Less cold, more... searching. And every time I remembered how his gaze lingered on me, even when others were talking, my heart misbehaved.
"Mia?"
I turned, startled. Jenny, one of the pediatric nurses, looked at me with a raised brow.
"You good?"
"Yeah. Just... tired."
She smiled knowingly. "You might want to grab coffee. He's here."
"Who?"
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Dr. Saint. He just walked in. Looking like a walking GQ ad, as usual."
I blinked. "Ryan?"
Why would he be here?
I followed Jenny's line of sight, heart skipping. Sure enough, he stood near the nurse's station, dressed in full surgical scrubs, a clipboard in hand like he belonged in a damn magazine.
He looked... calm. Centered. The chaos of his usual aura tucked beneath professionalism. But the moment his eyes landed on mine—everything else fell away.
He walked over, his tone casual but precise. "Good morning, Dr. Walls."
My name on his lips made me stand straighter. "Good morning. I didn't know you had a case here today."
He nodded. "Emergency neuro consult. One of the VIP patients in the west wing—transfer from Germany. I'll be scrubbing in soon."
I couldn't help but smile lightly. "Ah. So you're not stalking me."
He tilted his head, lips curving. "Not today."
It was a joke. Maybe.
But the weight of his gaze, the quiet pause before he continued—it made my pulse skitter.
"I'll be in the OR most of the day," he said, tone dipping slightly. "But if Eric needs anything while I'm out, just text Lia. She'll be back by tonight."
"Got it," I replied, suddenly unsure what else to say. "Good luck with the surgery."
He nodded once, then—right before turning—his eyes flicked to my face again, as if memorizing something.
"You look... rested," he murmured, before walking off down the hall.
I watched him disappear past the swinging doors, heart doing ridiculous things inside my chest.
He wasn't supposed to make me feel like this.
But every time we collided, even in brief moments… something cracked open.
And now, it was getting harder and harder to close it.