Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fuck. Fuck,” she hissed. This job. God, she wanted to quit. Olive was tired of everything. 

Her life.

Being poor. 

Working three jobs. 

Being tired every second of every day. 

Stupid rich patrons who thought they were above others. 

All of it, she was sick of—especially the last point. It hit home at the moment. Olive was working a gala as a waitress this evening. It had the distinct honor of being job number three and her least favorite. Sometimes, private gigs were okay. They tended to tip well, and the patrons were respectful. 

But large galas like this tended to be a pain in the ass. It was a fundraiser to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Association. A worthy cause, being supported by unruly guests. They didn’t actually care about Alzheimer’s. Some of them probably did, sure. But fundraising galas like this were a chance for the socialites of Boston to flaunt their cash, buy expensive clothes for the evening, and fuck each other in expensive hotel bathrooms. 

Olive had seen it all. 

They were ridiculous to attend. Not that she could ever be here as anything more than hired help, but after taking part in so many, she wouldn’t want to. If there was anything Olive learned about herself, it was that she didn’t fit in with the upper crust. They had fake voices with even faker laughs, and the moment they turned, they were talking shit behind each other’s backs. Not the type of people she needed in her life, that’s for sure. 

She needed stability and for someone to care about her. To unequivocally have her back the way she would have theirs and not leave. Olive certainly didn’t need to be at a modern-day Bridgerton Ball with the ton, having a pissing match over whose dress was the most expensive. They could donate the money to more worthy causes, like Olive. 

But instead of doing something as kind as that, one of the assholes—patrons, she mentally corrected, was so drunk he missed his mouth, throwing tequila in Olive’s eyes and on her face instead. Just what she needed. 

Grabbing and wetting a paper towel, Olive ran outside to a hidden balcony through an alcove. None of the guests would be here. They’d have to walk past the catering staff to find it, which would be beneath them. Tequila was apparently a massive bitch when it was in your eyes. Noted. 

She jumped up and down in annoyance, fanning her face. Maybe she could file a worker’s compensation claim and monetize this screw-up somehow. 

“Are you okay?”

Olive yelped, falling on her ass. She hadn’t even noticed someone else was there. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the voice said again. It was deep, a beautiful baritone, pitched low and vibrating through her eardrums. 

“You should do meditations,” she said. “Or narration.” 

“I…excuse me?”

“Sorry. You have a nice voice. Soothing, you know? It’s nice and low. Relaxing.” 

“Ah…right. Thank you.”

“No problem,” she said, waving her hand. It’s not like she could make herself look more ridiculous at this point. 

“So…?”

“So?”

“Are you okay,” the man said, exasperated. Olive had her eyes squeezed closed, trying to blink away the burn. 

“Some drunk dickbag threw tequila in my eyes. It burns, but other than that, I’m awful. How are you?”

He huffed, walking away.

“Cool. Great talk,” she mumbled. Pressing her palms to her eyes, Olive felt bone-deep exhaustion. She didn’t know how she was going to keep this up. It had been years of as many jobs as she could manage, and even in her early twenties, it was catching up. She would cry if she thought that would help. 

The footsteps returned. They sounded sharp and pointed. Decisive footsteps, she realized. This was a man who probably ate large quantities of confidence for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

“May I?” He asked, kneeling to her level. 

“Oh. I…with what?”

“Your eyes.” His tone was dry and crisp. She blinked them open, squinting at him. He was faint lines and edges, blurred with the dark of the night. 

“Sure. Thank you.” 

“Alcohol can burn your corneas,” he explained. “We need to rinse your eyes out.” 

“Yeah, I grabbed this wet paper towel, but it didn’t cut it.” 

“Why not grab a glass of water?” He directed her to bend her head and tilted her chin upwards, apologizing for the cool liquid. 

“I’d get fired. We’re not supposed to eat or drink anything.”

He scoffed. “Your health is worth getting fired over, no?”

“Life is expensive. I need this job.” 

“Eyes are expensive,” he countered, gently pouring water into her other eye. She didn’t get a drop on her. It was impressive.

“Here. Try and blink, and you can use these paper towels.” 

“Thanks. I’m Olive, by the way. Like the tree.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Olive.” 

“Any chance you can not report me on an angry comment card? I really do need this job.” 

“I don’t leave comment cards.” 

“Ah. Right. You must be having a good time, then.” 

“Hmm?”

“Usually, people only leave comments if they’re angry about something,” she shrugged. “This isn’t my first rodeo with one of these.” 

“It’s a rough crowd.” 

“Oh?”

“I hate these events,” he grumbled. 

“Free food, at least.” 

“Not worth the small talk.” 

Olive blinked some more, grateful things were coming into focus. Some of the burning was subsiding. 

“So you’re not part of the ton?”

“Excuse me?”

“One of the socialites with the Stepford wife laughs.” 

He snorted. “No. I was forced to attend by my mother.” 

“Ah. I’m sure you made her evening, then.” 

“I doubt it. I’ve been advised I need to be more welcoming. Chatty, I believe she said.” 

“You’re chatting with me just fine,” she pointed out. 

“You don’t have a Stepford wife laugh.” 

Olive chuckled, dabbing the water away. He came into focus then, looking down at her with concerned brown eyes. There was a furrow between his brows and tension in his jaw. 

“Hi,” she said, bashful now. “I appreciate the help.”  

“Hello.” He looked intently into her eyes, assessing, “How’s the burning?”

“Better, thanks.”

“You should report whoever threw tequila on you.” 

“That would also get me fired,” she snorted. “I am not more important than a guest.” 

His frown deepened as though that annoyed him. As though she were more important. “How long have you been working here?”

“A few months. It’s a side gig, but the pay is decent, so I really can’t afford to fuck things up. You know?”

“How many jobs do you have?”

“Three,” she flushed. He was intense, staring down at her like she was a puzzle explicitly made for him. He was tall—taller than average, for sure. Maybe 6’5”? He had black hair that was combed and swept to the left but on the side of untidy. From what he said about his mom, she imagined her fussing over his appearance before they left, forcing him to do that. He had sharp features—a long, angular nose, sharp jawline, and full lips. 

He was a catch for the women out there, no doubt. 

“What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“I hate these events,” he said again. “If I can escape, I will. Everyone was annoying me. The pretentiousness of it all.” 

“Do you care about Alzheimer’s?”

“Immensely. But I don’t need to come to an expensive fundraiser in a suit I don’t want to be wearing to give my support.” 

“You wear it well,” she said mindlessly. Apparently, it was blurt your inner thoughts out night. She was too tired to have a filter. A pink tinge touched his cheeks. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“No. It’s…thank you.” 

“There’s really no one in there you’d want to hang out with?” She asked gently. He was fascinating to her, but Olive wasn’t sure why. 

“Nah.” 

“I’m sure they don’t feel that way about you,” she pressed. He scoffed.

“You would be mistaken. People don’t hide their feelings about me from me.” 

Olive frowned. “I think you’re nice.” 

“You would be the only one.” 

“Ah. I have been known to bring out people’s best side,” she teased. 

“I’d believe that. You’re…unique.” 

“Is that what you tell all the girls you find crying on balconies?”

A ghost of a smile danced across his features, and dammit, Olive wanted to make him laugh. She didn’t know why, but it felt important she made that happen. 

“Just the ones who smell like tequila.” 

“We’re a rare breed,” she agreed. “Why did you really come out here?”

He sighed. “I do hate these events, but I have a lot on my mind. My mother is trying to set me up with one of the women at our table, which would be appalling. And then there’s work.”

“Stressful job?”

“I love what I do,” he said slowly. “But I have high expectations. When people don’t meet those expectations, I can’t turn a blind eye.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with having expectations or wanting things to be done properly.” 

“According to many, I’m a bit of a dick when I give feedback, but people take things personally. If I’m correcting someone on a procedure, it has nothing to do with them as a person. I just need them to do it properly. It doesn’t mean they are a failure themselves. I’m not a dick, I just…I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I am a dick. Maybe I expect too much of people and it’s unrealistic.” 

He was looking at her earnestly, begging her to understand. 

“I get that,” she said. “Truly, I do. For what it’s worth, I doubt you expect too much of people and that what you want is unrealistic. You seem like a good person, and you’re obviously passionate about what you do. That’s special.” 

Olive meant it. She was a surgical assistant now and had worked with one too many PAs, nurses, hell, even doctors who weren’t up to scratch. It was unacceptable when people’s lives were in their hands. Something in her features must have convinced him she meant it. He nodded, breathing his thanks. 

“If you want, I’ll walk back in there with you. You can sit down at your fancy table, and I’ll kiss you on the cheek before I walk away. I’ll call you honey bun and tell you I can’t wait to see you soon. The woman at your table would be so appalled you’d stoop as low as me. She won’t want to talk to you again. Easy peasy.” 

He let out a full-bellied laugh, and then dimples appeared. He looked younger with a boyish charm, a twinkle in his eye. 

“You’re interesting, Olive.” 

“I try,” she grinned. 

“Thank you for the offer. So far, I think I’m doing well on my own. As it turns out, grunting single-word answers instead of responding is not attractive, per my mother.”

Olive laughed, shaking her head. “You don’t say?”

“Who knew.” 

“Is she desperate for grandkids?”

“I think she wants to see me settled down. Happy with something or someone other than my job. She’s never brought up grandchildren to me, but perhaps the point is moot, seeing as I’m not dating.” 

Her heart fluttered, hearing he was single. It had never done that before—a slight palpitation as though it were too eager to beat normally. How strange. 

“Your eyes don’t look red anymore,” he said softly.

“They feel better now. Thank you again.” 

“Would you have really gotten fired for grabbing a glass of water?”

“It’s happened before,” she shrugged. “It doesn’t look professional. Speaking of…” It pained her to say it. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay here, with this man, instead of going back to reality. Back to the unknown of her future and the depressing life she was leading. 

Something about him made her feel happy. Calm, even. In a way she hadn’t felt in years. It was addictive, and she didn’t even know his name, which was probably a good thing. It would make it easier to stay away. His eyes flickered to the exit and back to Olive, the tension returning to his features.  

“You have to leave?”

“Like Cinderella,” she joked. “I could get fired for being gone too long, also.” 

“Your boss sounds like a piece of work.” 

“Something like that. Thanks again for the help and…for this, honestly. Talking to you has been really…lovely. The nicest thing that’s happened to me in a long time, anyway. Thank you for being you, I guess. It was nice meeting you.” 

She held out her hand for him to shake. He accepted it, lips parting. Her skin tingled where it touched his, goosebumps erupting across her body. It was like he electrified her. His skin was soft and warm against hers. She could feel how strong he was by the flex of his hands, though he was barely using any pressure. His eyes were fixed on the tiny bumps standing on her arms and then back to her eyes, his jaw clenching.

Everything inside her screamed to ask his name, not wanting to walk away. He was alluring in the way dangerous exotic animals were: beautiful, cunning, and deadly. The same voice warned that she needed to stay away, that he would destroy her somehow. Yet, as she gazed into his brown eyes, opaque and welcoming, all she could think was more. 

“It was nice to meet you too, Olive.” 

Chapter Text

“And you didn’t get her number?”

“Holden. You’ve asked me this at least five times,” Adam said, exasperated. 

“Because I can’t believe it. You’re finally—spot me, please,” Holden said, struggling to finish his rep. Adam was already there, helping. Holden sat upright, wiping his forehead with a towel. “Thanks. As I was saying. You’re finally interested in something, someone, anything other than surgery, and you didn’t get her number? I can’t believe it. I don’t even remember the last time you went on a date, so I’m sure you don’t. She must’ve been pretty spectacular, is all I’m getting at.” 

She was. She really was. And Adam didn’t even understand why. All he knew was he couldn’t stop thinking about Olive and her chestnut hair and hazel eyes. They were beautiful, even when they were red and splotchy. It was days later, and the memory of her still made him laugh. 

Olive like the tree was one of a kind. 

And he had no way to contact her because of himself and his poor choices. He was one of the best and most sought-after surgeons in the world. He graduated from Harvard Medical at the top of his class. He had previously been advised he had a genius IQ. And yet, Adam had no idea how to ask a woman for her number. 

Not that he cared in the past. Presently, he hated himself for it.

They made their way to the treadmill, having finished their sets. Adam and Holden had been best friends since childhood, throughout high school, undergrad, and even med school. Now, they were attendings at the most prominent hospital in Boston, still thick as thieves. They worked out together every weekday, opting to get the stress of their jobs out through exercise rather than other means. Adam didn’t know how some of his colleagues coped without it. 

“I clammed up,” he confessed, starting a light pace. “She was…fuck, I don’t know. Funny. Beautiful. Compassionate. It was nice talking to someone who didn’t know me or immediately cowered away. She seemed to get me somehow. I can’t explain it.” 

“All reasons you should have asked for a way to contact her,” Holden shot back. 

“As if I don’t know that. I was worried about making her uncomfortable, and I don’t know. She seemed too good for me.” 

“Maybe you should look up her catering company and see what other events they’re doing. Try to go to one and find her again.” 

Adam had already seriously considered that, but “Isn’t that a bit stalkerish? It sounds like the start of a horror movie.”

“I guess, but only if you harass her after she tells you to leave you alone. Would it be any different if you knew she worked the morning shift at Starbucks, so you stopped in again to say hi? I feel like people do it all the time. Taking chances, and all that.” 

“I don’t know, Holden. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.” 

“You deserve this,” he huffed. “Happiness, I mean. Your soulmate is out there, right under your nose. Don’t give up hope.” 

“What did you watch last night?”

“An excellent romcom called Always Be My Maybe on Netflix. The plot was, mmm!” He beamed, doing a happy wiggle.

“My life isn’t a romcom manufactured by Netflix,” Adam pointed out. 

“Because you’re not going after her!” 

“How’s Malcolm?” His tone was innocent, but the question was not. 

“That’s not the same.” 

“You’re not going after him,” Adam taunts, smirking. “Don’t give up hope, Holden. Your soulmate is right under your nose.” 

“We work together.”

“Excuses.”

“I’m almost like his boss. He wouldn’t be interested anyway.” 

“I disagree. He was practically fucking you with his eyes at lunch the other day. I almost left to give you two privacy.” 

“You are such a little shit. He had a question. That’s all. Why are we talking about me anyway?”

“Because you’ve been pining after Malcolm for who knows how long now. Since when have you not asked out a man you’re interested in?”

Holden was quiet for a moment, and Adam worried he had overstepped. Was Adam biased? Absolutely. But Holden was the best of the best. He had a heart of gold and gave his relationships his heart and soul. His relationships always started off well, but maybe that was the honeymoon period. After a few months, Holden’s partner’s true colors started to show. Adam didn’t understand it. They took advantage of his good nature one after one, leaving Holden heartbroken and guarded. He was about to apologize when Holden spoke. 

“I really like him,” he sighed. 

Though many said Adam didn’t have a heart, he did. He knew because it was currently twisting in his chest. He loved Holden. The man was essentially his brother and had the worst string of luck when it came to the love department. Still, Adam admired his tenacity. Holden always gave it another go, believing his person was waiting for him, and Adam told him so. 

“I mean it,” Adam said earnestly. “It’s admirable, and I really think Malcolm likes you too. He seems different. He’s got his head on his shoulders, and even though I don’t know him well, it seems like you two have a lot in common. He’s an idiot if he doesn’t like you back.” 

“I’ll think about it. And you promise you’ll think of a way to find Olive?”

“I promise I’ll try,” he amended. It was the truth, after all. Deep down, Adam didn’t think he would see her again, but he wouldn’t pass up a second chance to get to know her if given. 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 

Olive was forcing herself to finish her run, but it wasn’t easy. She had barely completed five miles today before she called it quits. It was getting late, and she was too tired. She had already finished a shift at the hospital and the bar down the road before she needed to do it all again tomorrow. At least the tips were decent tonight. 

An article popped up on her phone earlier in the day, saying in order for a single person to live comfortably in Boston, they needed to make roughly $125,000 per year. She literally laughed out loud, reading the figure. With three jobs, she felt fortunate to make around $80,000, depending on tips. It was enough to keep her afloat and pay her bills. There wasn’t much left over for anything else. 

Even living in Mattapan, one of the worst areas in Boston, her rent for a small studio home was almost $2,000 per month. The rest of her earnings went toward bills and the cheapest food Olive could afford. When she first moved to Boston, she was grateful. Technically, she still was. But she was also naïve. She had matured enough to admit that now. 

Everyday living expenses were monstrous, and the doe-eyed hope she had that her plan would work quickly waned. The fact was that Olive was not a machine. She was a human. She seemed to have forgotten that fact when she made “the plan.” 

Olive was determined that if she followed a strict, detailed plan, she would be able to wipe out her debt, gain experience as a surgical assistant, and attend Harvard Medical to continue her dream of becoming a doctor. What a joke that turned out to be. 

It had been a little over a year, and Olive knew her plan was falling apart. Horribly. Not only did she have no idea what she was doing with her life anymore, she was emotionally and physically exhausted. She couldn’t keep up with the debt, let alone make a big enough dent to be approved for more. Not to mention, the thought of more was stifling in a way she couldn’t cope with. 

Hopping off the train, Olive hurried to her house. Being constantly on was starting to wear on her. Even in her apartment, there was no safe space where she could decompress and not have to look over her shoulder. She was fairly positive she was renting from a drug dealer, but it was quite literally the only place she could afford at the time. 

Olive was overjoyed when Dr. Aslan, a cardiothoracic surgeon, offered her a position as her surgical assistant at BoMa General, the leading hospital in Boston and a leader in the United States. BoMa was a dream come true for anyone in the medical field, and she accepted without hesitation. Also, without doing her research. 

She blanched when she realized how expensive apartments were near the hospital, even with roommates. The starting surgical assistant salary wasn’t terrible, around $65,000, but she knew immediately it wouldn’t be enough for her situation. This was how she found herself living almost eight miles away from the hospital, with a one-hour train commute. 

Olive stayed at BoMa as much as possible, bringing extra clothes, utilizing the gym and showers, and sleeping in on-call rooms to make things easier. But it wasn’t always enough. Plus, she couldn’t actually live there. It made no sense for her to be at the hospital when she was off and not on call. 

The beginning of September, it was a balmy sixty degrees outside, indicating autumn was on its way. Olive was wearing her only jacket, making the quick trip from the platform to her apartment. It was nothing spectacular, but at least the locks worked. Being a small unfurnished studio house, it remained that way other than a free chair she found on the side of the road and an air mattress. 

Shrugging off her jacket, Olive sighed a short-lived sigh of relief. It disappeared when she opened her fridge, which was bare save for a few apples, eggs, and nondescript items that should probably be thrown out. She knew she had oatmeal in the cupboard but couldn’t bring herself to make it. Having a meal too often will do that to you. 

Opting for one of the last packets of ramen, Olive threw it together, tossing in some frozen vegetables. Opening her books, she began studying—she and Dr. Aslan had a coronary artery bypass graft tomorrow. It was a fairly common procedure, but that didn’t reduce the risk. Olive thought of her balcony Guy, huffing out a laugh. 

She took her job seriously, the way he seemed to. Olive wished she had asked his name or what he does for a living. At the time, it was a conscious choice not to, for self-preservation. It’s not like he could have been anything more to her than a stranger, but it was nice to fantasize. 

The immediate curiosity she held for him had never happened to Olive before. He was handsome in his own right, but it was more than that. There was so much depth behind his gaze, making her want to explore more. She felt safe in his presence but didn’t know why. They weren’t in any danger at the time. Perhaps it was how he commanded the situation, taking charge and ensuring she was okay. His towering height and broad frame shielded her from the outside world, suspending her in a bubble. 

Olive wished she could have stayed in it.

It was a fleeting reprieve but one she would covet. In her imagination, he thought of her, too. Balcony Guy had to be smart, she decided. If not because he was at a donor gala where tickets started at $10,000, because of how well he wore a suit, which screamed sophistication, the air he had and the way he held himself, and how he mentioned correcting colleagues on procedures. It was true that many jobs had some kind of procedure, but she could see him being in a scientific field, perhaps through research or engineering. She briefly contemplated him as a doctor, but she couldn’t figure out what kind he would be if he were. 

On the balcony, he seemed too gentle and caring to be a surgeon yet too detail-oriented to work in a clinic or family practice. Not that they weren’t wildly important, but she suspected he was a specialist in whatever he did. No part of her could believe he was a businessman, like so many others at the gala. From the very little she knew of him, he didn’t have the patience or temperament. Regardless…

“It doesn’t matter,” she reminded herself. One day, he would meet someone on his level. Clearly not a Stepford wife, but someone intelligent and sophisticated that his mother would love. She would probably be beautiful with a Mensa-level IQ. Not someone like Olive. Poor and tired with no family. She would never see him again and would do well to remember that. 

Chapter Text

Something was off. Olive could feel it in her bones. Dr. Aslan was one of the happiest and most enthusiastic people she had ever met—almost too much so. Today, she barely spoke after giving a lackluster ‘good morning’ to Olive. Usually, she was chatty throughout surgery and loved listening to upbeat music. Their regular routine was debriefing while they scrubbed out, yet here they stood, barely speaking. 

Until she sighed. 

“I have some news, Olive.” 

Her heart dropped, preparing for the worst. This couldn’t be good. 

“Of course. Can I help with anything?”

“Unfortunately not. It’s not announced yet, so I would appreciate it if this stayed between us.” 

“You have my word,” she promised, her mouth going dry. Was she about to get fired? Surgeries were flipping through her mind, and she tried to recall something she did wrong. There was nothing. 

“My husband is gravely ill. You know how much I love this job, so as you can imagine, this has not been an easy decision for me…” 

Oh. My. God. 

“…but I will have to go into an early retirement. He has been at my side since medical school, weathering every storm, and I need to ensure I’m at his now. You do understand, don’t you?”

Olive nodded, forcing her voice to be steady. “Absolutely. I’m sure he appreciates that, and please know you’re both in my thoughts. When will you be leaving?”

“Next week, at the latest. I’ll be working with the others to move my future consultations, but Olive, dear,” she sighed. 

Olive knew what was coming. She thought about it the moment Dr. Aslan brought up that this was a difficult decision. 

“I don’t believe any of the other surgeons currently need a surgical assistant. They’re fully staffed.” 

“I completely understand,” Olive smiled, placing her hand on Dr. Aslan’s arm. “It has been an honor working with you, and I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve taught and done for me.” 

Dr. Aslan had tears in her eyes, pulling Olive into a hug and promising to write her as many letters of recommendation as needed. She expressed her thanks and accepted the hug as gracefully as she could. Olive was not used to physical contact. 

Panic clawed up her throat as they went their separate ways. Dr. Aslan, to her office, and Olive to…anywhere she could. Yep. That’s what she needed—to be alone. She fled down the hallway the moment Dr. Aslan was out of sight and into the first on-call room she found. 

“Occupied,” someone mumbled, yawning.

“I’m sorry. Can I have a panic attack quickly, please? And then I’ll go.” 

It didn’t matter if the man said no. It was already happening, and Olive was helpless to it. The room was spinning, and Olive was dizzy. Scared. Her legs were numb, and she couldn’t think. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” they said. “Breathe with me. In through your nose,” he held up his hands, counting down, “and out through your mouth. Here. Use this bag.” He handed her a paper bag, breathing with her. It smelled of brownies and happy things, which helped. Olive loved sugar. 

Olive was trembling, her vision in spots and tears prickling in her eyes. Her breaths were still coming in pants, but the man helped her through it, saying calming words and directing her through breathing exercises. Throughout this, he guided her to the bed, helping her take a seat. Finally, it subsided.

“I-I’m sorry,” she gasped. 

“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

“Not really, but it doesn’t matter. You know?” 

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nah. Just doctor’s pulling the rug out from under us,” she smiled gently. He had the same colored scrubs as Olive, so he had to be a surgical assistant, too. 

“Ah. My favorite. Tell me, are you Carlsen’s assistant?”

“Carlsen?” She scrunched her nose, thinking. 

“Dr. Carlsen? Adam Carlsen,” he clarified. “Head of neuro. Makes everyone cry all the time? Apparently, he’s a nightmare to work with for doctors, assistants, and nurses alike.”

“At least he doesn’t discriminate,” she joked. 

“His surgical assistants quit on the reg. He’s the destroyer of medical careers.” 

“He sounds charming, but no. I’ve never met him.” 

“Never? Are you sure? He’s medical royalty. Ultra famous.” 

She shrugged, and the man looked impressed. 

“Damn. That’s cool.” 

“Thanks?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome? Sullen and broody?”

“I’m on cardio. We tend to have opposite schedules with neuro,” she shrugged. “I don’t really know any of the other surgical assistants. I’m Olive, by the way.” 

“Malcolm,” he said, shaking her hand. He had beautiful dark skin and warm features. She could tell he was kind, and Olive was grateful she stumbled into his room. He fished around in his bag, pulling out water and some chocolate. 

“Here. You’re still a bit shaky. Have this.” 

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry. You should be sleeping, anyway.” Olive moved to stand, but he shook his head.

“It’s no biggie. I’m not tired, just bored.” 

Olive hesitated but stayed. She accepted the chocolate and water with thanks. Her eyes closed the moment it hit her tongue. Olive loved chocolate but hadn’t had it in longer than she could remember. It was melting in her mouth, the caramel and sweet notes blending perfectly with the earthy, nutty ones. It was delicious. 

“Thank you. Seriously.” 

He waved her off. “So, if not Carlsen, who?”

“Where do you work, anyway?” 

“I’m with internal medicine with Dr. Moss and occasionally Dr. Rodrigues since he’s emergency and internal med. Have you heard of him?”

“I think so? But if you pointed them out in the hallway and their badges weren’t on display, I couldn’t tell you.” 

Malcolm chuckled. “You cardio nerds truly are off on your own.”

“I haven’t really had time or any overlapping surgeries yet.” 

“What about the dinner in December?”

“Ah. I wasn’t able to attend. I’m just getting done with my first year.” 

“Hopefully, you can this year.” 

Doubtful. “Hopefully,” she agreed. “I’m with Dr. Aslan, who is lovely. Very kind and cheerful.” 

“Is she?” he raised a brow. 

“I…” Olive bit her lip. “A situation has occurred that she can’t help but that I also can’t discuss yet.” 

Malcolm nodded sympathetically, understanding. 

“Anyway, I should let you rest again and go finish up my work anyway. Thank you for the chocolate and for helping me.” 

“Kalamata, wait.” He scribbled some information on paper, handing it to her. “Here’s my number and email. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything, okay? I won’t say anything, but if I hear of any surgeons needing a new surgical assistant, I’ll let you know.”

Olive murmured her thanks, accepting the paper and clutching it gently. She paused at the door handle, looking back at him. 

“Kalamata?” she asked curiously. 

“They are my favorite olive,” he grinned. “We’ll see each other again. Just you wait.” 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 

She was going to have to move. The reality of that fact made Olive want to puke. She started applying everywhere she could, but no surgical assistant positions were open in or near Boston. It was like things had gone from bad to worse. 

Dr. Aslan was sympathetic and wrote her a glowing letter of recommendation, but Olive knew it would only go so far. She was at the library not far from BoMa, using the computer. Panic was clawing its way up her chest again. The lease for her apartment was a loose agreement, but she didn’t know how to break it without owing money she didn’t have. 

In short: she was fucked if she couldn’t find a new position. 

She was grateful even to have her apartment. Most leasing companies were hesitant to allow her to sign for her apartment. Well, that wasn’t true; they had all declined to have her as a tenant. Olive didn’t have anyone to co-sign for her, and the moment they did a credit check, they understandably panicked. 

Olive focused on plan b, emailing her boss at the catering company and bar, asking if additional shifts would be possible starting next week. She would pick up another job the moment she was offered, which would soften the blow. For now, she couldn’t ignore the incessant sound from her beeper, letting her know she was needed back at BoMa. 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 

Adam pulled off his scrub cap, annoyed. Greg, his fucking cowardly surgical assistant, was quitting. Not that Adam gave a shit. Greg was horrible at his job. He never knew the steps for any of the procedures or what instrument Adam would need next, which was a huge part of his job. Adam didn’t have time in the middle of a procedure, when he was literally in someone’s brain, to tell Greg what to do every step of the way. 

Mistakes would happen, of course. Adam understood that. He also knew the unexpected could happen at any turn, which may change the course of their surgery. That doesn’t mean the surgical assistant should come unprepared, not knowing the steps for the original procedure. 

It was unacceptable. People’s lives were at stake. 

     Holden: Aslan has called a meeting in the Beacon Hill conference room. Are you out of surgery?

     Adam: I’ll be there when I can. I need to speak to the family. 

Great. A meeting. Maybe he could poach someone else’s surgical assistant, assuming they weren’t woefully incompetent. Adam couldn’t deal with it anymore. He loved his job, and his patients deserved the best. When surgeries went well, talking to the families was a highlight of his job. When they didn’t, it was one of the worst. Today was a good day. 

“Mrs. Banerjee?”

“Dr. Carlsen,” she breathed, jumping to her feet. Her adult children pulled her back to her seat, letting Adam sit in front of them. She was clutching her chest, eyes closed. 

“Didn’t I tell you, if you didn’t hear from me during the surgery, it was good news?” Adam joked, trying to ease her tension. 

“You did,” she agreed. 

“As you know, we were performing surgery today to remove your husband’s parasagittal meningioma,” he started. His heart turned, seeing how worried they were. The way her children were holding onto each bicep, looking at him earnestly. It was too easy for this to become just a job for doctors. Just another day, doing just another surgery. But for the patients, this was one of the most impactful and scary things they’d ever go through, which was important to Adam. “I’m happy to let you know it was successful. There were no complications, and we were able to remove the entire tumor.” 

All three of them burst into tears, relief written all over their faces. They kept saying their thanks, and Adam handed them a box of tissues. 

“It’s my pleasure. Thank you for trusting me. I know this has been a scary process, but I don’t take that for granted. He’s being wheeled back up to his room now if he hasn’t been already. You’re welcome to sit with him, but he’ll still be under anesthesia. Please know that’s completely normal. I can’t give you an exact time he’ll wake up. Our bodies tend to know when it’s time to come to. I will be back up to check in on him soon, most likely once he comes to. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, okay?”

They nodded. 

“Do you have any questions for me now?”

“No. Thank you, Dr. Carlsen,” the son said. He shook Adam’s hand while the two women asked if they could hug him. Adam had never said no to this request but never got used to hugging strangers. 

Adam walked them back to his patient before heading to the Beacon Hill conference room. He didn’t know what would warrant a meeting with Aysegul, nor did he particularly care. She was fine in her own right, but the rest of the cardio crew thought they were above God. 

They weren’t, and Adam had no issues telling them that. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Dr. McCoy drawled. 

Here we fucking go. 

“Some of us just finished surgery,” Adam said curtly, sitting beside Holden. “My patients are more important than you.” 

McCoy rolled his eyes like the prick he was. 

“Adam, thank you for hurrying!” Aysegul said. He knew she meant it. She belonged in cardio because she loved love and loved hearts. Not because she loved the notoriety that came with it. She was the most enthusiastic surgeon he had ever encountered. Sometimes, she was too peppy for Adam, but to each their own. “I’m sorry for the poor timing, but as we’re all here today, I decided it was better now than never.”

Adam frowned. He assumed this would be a boring meeting about budgets and OR space, per usual. That didn’t seem to be the case. 

“Unfortunately, I will be retiring due to unforeseen circumstances. Next week.” 

One glance told him no one saw this coming. 

“Are you and Kerem okay?” He asked. 

“My husband is…” she turned away, grabbing a tissue. “Kerem is not well. Thank you for asking, Adam. You all know how difficult our jobs are, with the schedules and all that comes with it. He has always been at my side, supporting me. It is my wish to do the same for him, while I still can. But I want to give him my full attention, which means I had to make a choice.” 

“And your patients?” Dr. Moss asked. 

“I don’t have many surgeries left. I will finish them myself, but I will need to shift consultations. I will do that with the cardio team outside of this meeting to make things more efficient.” 

“And your surgical team?” Holden asked. 

“Everyone is accounted for except my surgical assistant, unfortunately. I’m having a lot of guilt about that. She is phenomenal inside the OR and out, but I know no one needs an assistant at this time. I’ve written her a letter of recommendation and will help her the best I can with finding a position elsewhere.” 

Adam closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. This was the problem with liking people. He knew he would feel guilty if he didn’t say anything. He opened his eyes, sighing. 

“Does she know anything about neuro?”

Aysegul was startled, looking at him. “She’s young. She’s only been on my service, so I can’t speak for her knowledge in other fields. I can say she is a force to be reckoned with. She is easily the best surgical assistant I have ever had. If she isn’t familiar with neuro, I am confident she would pick it up quickly.” 

“Give her my information. I have a position that just opened.” 

One of the other surgeons snickered, trying to hide it as a cough. 

“Greg…?” Holden asked. 

“Has decided to broaden his horizons elsewhere.” 

“I would be very grateful. Thank you. I’ll give her your information. I’m unsure if she would be interested, but it’s possible she would. She truly is one of a kind.” 

“What’s her name?” Adam asked gloomily, thinking of his one-of-a-kind Olive like the tree. 

“Olive. Olive Smith.” 

Adam’s entire body came to life. 

No. Fucking. Way.

Chapter Text

“There can’t be two Olive’s in Boston, right?”

It was the first thing he muttered to Holden when they left the conference room. Adam blacked out for the rest of the meeting, only thinking of the possibility that Olive Smith was his Olive. The chance he might see her again was a godsend. But the chance to work with her? It was too good to be true.

Fate had never been so kind.

“I would be shocked. I’ve never even met an old Olive.” 

They were walking fast, heading toward Adam’s office. It was closer. The moment they were inside, he pulled up the hospital directory, frantically typing her name. It was a gross invasion of privacy, but his body was humming. He needed to know.

“Fuck,” he snapped. 

There was no photo. 

“Damn. I guess you’ll have to wait.” 

“Fuck,” Adam said again, running his hands through his hair. What he would give for them to be the same woman.

“I hate to be the devil’s advocate, but you said she didn’t know you?”

“No. She didn’t seem to, anyway.” 

“Isn’t the chances of an employee, no, scratch that. Not just an employee—a surgical assistant not knowing who you are, a little slim?”

Adam bit the inside of his cheek. “Maybe she’s wrapped up in cardio. She mentioned having more than one job, so perhaps she’s busy?”

“Multiple jobs, and she works at BoMa? I don’t know, Adam…” 

“What happened to having hope for your soulmate?” Adam muttered. 

“Sorry,” he blanched. They both stared at the empty space where a photo should be, willing one to appear. 

“I better go check on my patient,” he sighed. “You get out of here. There’s nothing we can do for now.” 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 

Olive rushed through the doors, grabbing scrubs and changing in the locker room as quickly as possible. She flew to the surgery board, looking for Dr. Aslan’s name. She couldn’t find it. Looking down at her beeper, Olive confirmed she was called in. 

“Olive, dear. You got my call? Good, good. Come with me.” 

“Don’t we…?” Olive let her question dangle, pointing at the board. 

“Ah! No, sorry. I must have hit the wrong button. I have news.”

She sat in the chair across from Dr. Aslan’s desk, waiting expectantly. 

“I had an impromptu meeting with the other surgeons, letting them know about my retirement. As it turns out, there is a position open for a surgical assistant. Isn’t that great!”

“It is,” Olive choked out. It really, really was. 

“It’s with neurology,” she continued hesitantly. “Do you have any experience with neuro?”

“I don’t. Would that be a problem?”

She waved her off. “I have faith in you. I’m sure you’ll pick everything up quickly, and don’t let Dr. Carlsen scare you. He doesn’t bite, even when he barks. That poor man is misunderstood.” 

Dr. Carlsen. As in, Adam Carlsen. The man she learned about earlier today. Malcolm’s voice rang through her head, saying, ‘destroyer of medical careers.’

Olive bucked the hell up, giving Dr. Aslan her warmest smile. “I don’t know him, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’d be honored for the chance. Neuro always seemed fascinating in its own way.” 

“Perfect,” she beamed. “You will be wonderful, and I am cheering you on every step of the way. This is Adam’s contact information. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”

“Thank you again. I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem. I’m glad this is working out. I think you two will make a good team. Sorry about the scrubs, clumsy me.” 

Olive waved her off, grabbing her phone from a locker before finding an empty on-call room. She stared at the tidy scrawl on the scrap of paper. It didn’t tell her much. Only his name, number, and email, but it felt monumental. Gathering her courage, Olive texted Malcolm instead. 

     Olive: Hey! This is the crazy girl who burst into your on-call room having a panic attack 😅 

     Malcolm: Kalamata!!

     Olive: I just got some news. Guess whose service I might be moved to?

     Malcolm: …

     Malcolm: Why do I have a feeling you’re about to say Carlsen?

     Olive: Your spidey senses must be going off. I’m about to contact him. Any tips?

     Malcolm: Be direct. He doesn’t really do small talk. 

     Olive: Noted. 

     Malcolm: You’ll be great. He’s nice, deep down. 

     Olive: Oh? Is that why you called him the destroyer of medical careers?

     Malcolm: I plead the fifth. 

Olive laughed, pulling up her email. She couldn’t bear the idea of doing a cold call, plus it was late, so email would have to do. 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Neurology Surgical Assistant Position

Dr. Carlsen, 

Dr. Aslan and I just spoke, and she advised you that you may have a surgical assistant position open within the neurology department. Attached is my resume for your review. 

I do not have experience in neurology at this time, but I’m a fast learner and am dedicated to my work. Please let me know if you have any questions, or would like to meet in person to discuss. 

Thank you for your consideration, 

Olive 

That would have to do. Olive wanted to say so many other things, but Malcolm said to be concise, and that’s what her email was. Pressing send, she flopped on the bed, praying for good news. 

She would study hard and learn every procedure by heart, doing anything she could to excel and make procedures as seamless as possible for him. Olive wasn’t lying when she told Dr. Aslan that neuro fascinated her. It did. But when she was first offered her position, she didn’t care what specialty she was placed in. She was grateful to be offered anything before her visa ran out, and the point was moot. 

This felt similar. The thought of a new specialty excited her, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t afford for this not to work out. 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Neurology Surgical Assistant Position

Olive, 

Given the hour, I’m assuming you’re on call? Let me know when you would be free to meet this week to discuss. Feel free to text me if easier.

As Aysegul is set to leave next week, if this works out, would you be willing to start on my service when your surgeries with her are complete? 

Adam 

Adam Carlsen, M.D.

Head of Neurology, Boston Mass General

Her heart was soaring. She would meet him now if that’s what he wanted. Olive bit her lip, deciding to text. 

     Olive: Hi, Dr. Carlsen. This is Olive. I’m off at 7 AM tomorrow and happy to meet with you at your convenience. 

     Adam: Would you be willing to meet at the Starbucks next to the gift shop when your shift ends?

     Olive: That sounds great! Thank you again for the opportunity. 

     Adam: See you then. 

It was the first bout of excitement she had felt since this morning. She would make this work and do everything she could to charm the unapproachable Dr. Carlsen. 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

Olive was relieved for the slow night, showering and changing with plenty of time to spare. Adam texted this morning, verifying that 7 AM still worked for her. He had surgery at 10 AM, which was perfect since her shift at the bar started a half hour later. She took one more deep breath,  tying her hair into a bun, looking in the mirror.

“Hi, Dr. Carlsen!” She frowned. Too cheerful.

“Dr. Carlsen. Hello.” Too formal.

“Adam, hi!” No, no. Way too casual. She couldn’t call him by his first name. That was unacceptable.

Olive groaned, heading to the elevator. Doctors were people, too. Normally, she wouldn’t be this nervous to meet one, but there were no second options. She had to annihilate this interview. The Starbucks was fairly empty, allowing Olive to choose a spot by the window, looking out at the Boston Common. 

     Olive: I’m by the windows, looking out onto the Common. 

It smelled delectable in here, the aroma of coffee invading her senses. Coffee was a luxury, not a necessity, which meant she stopped drinking it unless it was free. But pumpkin spice season was upon Boston, and it was hard to ignore. 

Olive was taking deep breaths, reciting what she had practiced all night under her breath. She could do this. Regardless of her circumstances, she was a badass and could convince Dr. Carlsen of that. 

“Olive.” 

The baritone of the voice caught her off guard. As she stood, looking up with her hand raised, her mind filled with images from the gala until she realized this was no memory. He was here. Balcony Guy was here at 7 AM on the dot. 

“Balcony Guy,” she breathed. He accepted her hand again, which was lifeless in his. Olive couldn’t think. 

“Adam, actually,” he corrected, studying her. 

“Sorry?” She blinked, sure she had heard him wrong. 

He cleared his throat. “My name is Adam Carlsen. You’re welcome to call me Adam.” 

“Dr. Carlsen,” she squeaked. It was worse than anything she had practiced in the locker room.

“Adam,” he pressed. “May I buy you coffee?”

“No,” she said quickly, glancing toward the exit. He frowned, following her gaze, a faint tinge appearing on his cheeks. God, he was even more handsome in daylight. 

“Please? You’re welcome to order whatever you’d like.”

A lifetime supply of pumpkin spice lattes would be great. Thank you for offering. 

“I should go,” she said, grabbing her bag. She was in fight or flight mode, and today was the day to flee, which rarely happened. 

Adam looked worried now, holding his hands up to stop her. “We haven’t even talked yet.”

“That’s moot, though, surely?”

Olive’s brain was screaming at her to shut the hell up, order a latte, and talk to him about the job she desperately needed. 

“No. At least, not in my opinion.” 

“But I…” 

“Have come highly recommended by a surgeon I respect,” he said gently.

Olive deflated, thinking of Dr. Aslan. “I’m sorry. This has caught me off guard, is all. I didn’t realize you were Dr. Carlsen. I didn’t even know Dr. Carlsen existed until yesterday,” she babbled. “I mean, you, that is. Well, I mean, I know you existed, obviously. You’re my balcony Guy, and—” Olive wanted the ground to swallow her whole so she would stop talking. Adam looked down at her, amused. 

“I didn’t know who you were, either.” 

“You didn’t?”

“No. When Aysegul said your name, I wondered, of course. I have never met another Olive.” 

“So…you remember me?”

“You are very memorable. Even when you don’t smell of tequila, it seems.” 

Olive was rooted to the spot, hesitating. 

“May I please buy you a coffee, and we can discuss the position?”

“I…is that inappropriate?”

“No. But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can pay separately.” 

“I can’t afford it,” she frowned, immediately hating herself. Why did she say that?

“You did say you worked three jobs,” he muttered, glaring. He straightened, coming to his own conclusions. “Why is that? Does the hospital not pay you enough?”

“I have a unique life. You’re welcome to tell the powers that be down in HR to pay me more, though,” she joked. 

His brows furrowed, studying her. “Stay. I’ll get them. Do you like black coffee, or—” he stopped immediately, his lips twitching at her flinch. “A sugary contraption, then.” 

“Do you really only drink black coffee? That’s so sad.” 

He smiled. It was small and uneven, but it was there, and hers. “I do. I’m assuming you like pumpkin spice, a.k.a, radioactive waste?”

Olive bit down her excitement. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

She almost argued that she would come with him but needed the time to collect herself. Nothing about this meeting was going the way she planned. Could she work with her balcony Guy? He was so insular in her life. Seeing him as real flesh and blood was unexpected. In her mind, he was unattainable—a mirage. 

Oddly, he was a comfort to Olive. She was scared that would be ruined now.

Adam sat down, gingerly placing the latte in front of her, and a bag of food. It had one of the protein packs, a KIND bar, and a pumpkin scone. He was wearing a black henley and dark black jeans. As she had suspected the night they met, his hair was not swooped to the side with hair product. It looked soft and very him.  

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

A silence fell as he studied her. His gaze was intense, making her blush. He had a warm spark in his eye, as though he were happy to see her. 

“So, I guess we should talk,” she said. 

“I guess we should,” he mused. 

“Do you have a favorite color?”

What the fuck, Olive?! This is what happened when she wasn’t able to stick to a plan. She would ramble and ask ridiculous questions during a job interview. 

His lips twitched, taking pity on her. “They’re all the same.” 

“What? Come on, didn’t you love Crayola as a kid?”

“No.” 

“There’s not one color you like more than the others? Vomit green. Neon pink. Dandelion?”

He smiled at her unevenly, still amused. “Black.” 

“Isn’t that no colors?” Olive’s voice was breathy and not her own. Everything about this man was her kryptonite. 

“It’s better than vomit green.” 

“What’s wrong with a beautiful, vibrant green?”

“The sound makes me nauseous.”

“Well, black does fit this scion of darkness look you have going on, black coffee and all.” 

“We aim to please.” 

“Where were you born?”

“I feel like I’m the one being interviewed,” he deadpanned but continued before Olive could worry she overstepped. “Netherlands. The Hague.” 

“That explains the accent.” 

He looked surprised. “Most people don’t notice. I thought I hid it well enough.” 

“It’s subtle.” 

“I grew up there. My mother was an ambassador to the Netherlands for the US, so I grew up speaking Dutch and English.” 

“That sounds cool.” Olive was curious about him, wanting to learn more, which was weird. He was unique, and nothing like the Dr. Adam Carlsen Malcolm had warned her about. She couldn’t imagine him making someone cry on purpose. 

“It was something. Where were you born?”

“Toronto. I moved here for school. I was fortunate enough to get a full ride.”

He nodded, sipping his coffee. “Do you go back often? The flight isn’t too far from here.” 

“No,” she sighed, closing her eyes at how good the latte tasted. God, it was perfect. She was going to drink it slow, savoring every sip. 

“Your family must miss you,” he frowned. “Are you ever going to move back?”

Olive tensed. “Not if I can help it. I don’t have many happy memories from Canada. No family, either.” 

Adam’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push, which Olive was grateful for. “You didn’t know who I was at the gala.” 

“I did not.” 

“Are you not interested in neurology?”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. This was her chance to prove herself. “When Dr. Aslan offered me a position with her, I was eager to work at BoMa. I didn’t want to limit myself to one specialty in my applications, and cardio is just where I landed. I haven’t had any overlapping surgeries, and we have opposite surgery schedules most of the time, so my experience with neuro has been limited, but I promise I’m a fast learner. I’d be willing to do whatever needed to—”

“Stop. Breathe, Olive. You have the job if you want it. I was curious, that’s all.” 

“Seriously?”

Adam nodded, looking at her with those damn furrowed brows again. She hated being so transparent—a puzzle for him to figure out. 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you, again, Dr. Carlsen,” she said, blinking back her relief. “I mean it. I’ll do anything I can to make your life easier in the OR. I take my job seriously, and I love it. Being here is not something I take lightly, nor is our patient’s well-being.” 

As he studied her, Olive waited on bated breath, praying she was enough. 

Chapter Text

If Adam thought Olive was an enigma when they met at the gala, that was nothing compared to what he thought now. She was a drug he never intended to try but couldn’t live without. Everything about her confused him. 

The way her eyes closed when she sipped that disgusting latte, as though she didn’t know when she would have one again. 

How she seemed certain she wasn’t going to be offered the job, even when he told her it was hers if she wanted it. 

Why she was working two part-time jobs alongside this one. 

The way she glossed over not having any family, and unhappy memories in Canada. Was she completely alone?

He wanted to figure it all out for himself and then never let her go. Adam wanted to learn all her dark secrets so he could solve her problems. He thought he would do anything needed to ensure she was safe, warm, happy, and had food. She was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but Adam could tell she was thin—probably thinner than she should be. 

He didn’t want her to have to work more than the job she actually wanted to get by. He wanted her to be comfortable and able to drink that gross pumpkin shit whenever she craved. He would buy her one every day, he decided. 

“Aysegul’s final surgery is next week, correct?”

“Yes. We’re booked for the rest of this week and have a transmyocardial revascularization on Tuesday, which will be our last surgery together. Her other consultations are being moved to other surgeon’s service.” 

Adam nodded. “I have surgery on Wednesday if you’d like to start then. It’s a posterior cervical fusion. Thursday is a deep brain stimulation. That patient is a 62-year-old male with Parkinson’s, which has not developed into dementia. He’s a good candidate for deep brain stimulation and wants to try. I have surgeries almost every day. Does that interfere with your schedule?”

Olive frowned, likely thinking about her other jobs. “No. I can make it work.” 

For the sake of his patients and his sanity, he needed to know how invested she would be. She mentioned her job briefly at the gala but didn’t confirm which. Perhaps it was the third job. “Why do you have three jobs, Olive? Did you not find your preferred position?”

“No. Of course not. I love being a surgical assistant, and being at BoMa is more than I could have ever hoped for.” 

“You don’t want to be in medical?”

“I do. I’ve always wanted to be in the medical field.” 

“And yet, you have two jobs taking you away from it. You said you’ve always wanted to be here, so tell me. Why do you want to be in the medical field? The politics are atrocious, and the hours are demanding.”

She blanched but didn’t cower. “What healthcare workers do means a lot to me. Our job is not something I take lightly, and it’s something I’m passionate about. I love helping our patients. Being there for them however I can and doing what’s necessary to ensure the best possible prognosis. I’m passionate about science and helping others.” Olive paused, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t trust easily, and that carried over to work. When I realized I wanted to be a doctor, a large part of that was because I didn’t trust anyone else to do it properly, the way I would.” 

Adam stopped himself from pointing out that she wasn’t a doctor, eager for more information, but realized this was another puzzle piece. Was being a surgical assistant a means to an end? Had she wanted to go to medical school but changed her mind? She was looking at him tentatively, likely waiting for a reaction. 

“I see.” 

“Is that…okay? A good enough reason?”

“It’s the best one.”

Olive nodded, relieved. “If I didn’t have to work my other jobs, I wouldn’t. Due to my…situation in life, I’m doing what I need to do for now. I assure you they won’t interfere with my work here. Being on your service is absolutely my main priority.” 

Adam accepted her words, still confused. “I’ll email you my schedule for next week, and we can go from there.” 

“Thank you. I promise I won’t let you down.” 

His pager started beeping, and both of them looked down at it. Damn. 

“I should let you go. I have to get to…” she shook her head. “Never mind. I look forward to working with you, Dr. Carlsen.” 

Again with the Dr. Carlsen shit. He wanted to hear his name fall from her lips. Was she going back to one of her other jobs already? She was on call all night and likely had to be back at the hospital this evening. 

“It was nice to meet you again.”

“You too. Thank you for the latte and a week’s worth of food.”

Adam assured her again that it was his pleasure. He hoped her comment about the food was a joke but was petrified it wasn’t. Adam was disappointed to watch her walk away once they said their goodbyes. He hoped where she worked was safe but suspected he would disapprove. All he knew as the elevator doors closed was that Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough. 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

“Kalamata. Where have you been? You haven’t answered any of my text messages.” 

“I’m sorry,” Olive frowned. She had overanalyzed each text, ultimately not responding. It had been so long since Olive had any real friends. It was difficult not to panic. She overthought her responses, worrying she was saying too much or not enough. Malcolm seemed nice and easygoing, but in a way, that made it harder. She didn’t know his expectations and, therefore, how to meet them.

They were gathered in one of the larger conference rooms for Dr. Aslan’s retirement party. Their final surgery went off without a hitch, other than Dr. Aslan crying in the scrub room, emotional about leaving a job she loved. In many ways, Olive couldn’t believe this was actually happening. 

After her coffee meeting with Dr. Carlsen, she had done nothing but work. Her free time was spent at one of her other jobs or studying. She wasn’t lying when she promised not to let him down. Olive was determined to memorize their upcoming surgeries so they would be a breeze. 

“Want me to introduce you to some people?”

“I don’t want to be an imposition…” 

“You’re not. Come on.” 

“Anh!” He called. A woman around Olive’s age turned. She had shiny black hair that was beautiful and perfect. Her smile was impeccable and wide, joy radiating off her. 

“Malcolm,” she beamed, hugging him before looking curiously at Olive. “Who is this?”

“I’m Olive. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking her hand. 

“Kalamata here is Dr. Aslan’s surgical assistant,” Malcolm explained. “Well, was her surgical assistant. She’s moving to Carlsen’s service.”

“As in the Dr. Carlsen? Adam Ass Carlsen?”

Olive blinked, stunned into silence. Malcolm snorted. “The one and the same.” 

“He seems nice,” she defended. “I don’t know him well, but we met over coffee to discuss the position, and he didn’t seem mean. He’s really straightforward but not in a bad way.” 

“Wait until you’re in the OR with him.” Anh shivered. “I’m in peds, but I worked with him once, and it was intense. He’s a damn God in there, but terrifying.” 

“Heads up. Here comes Jeremy.” 

Anh flushed, looking at her drink. 

“You look awesome,” Olive said encouragingly, giving her a wink. Anh smiled her thanks, seeming to really appreciate the pep talk. 

“Hey, guys.” He looked quizzically at Olive. He had red hair and a face full of freckles, which would be easy enough to remember. 

“I’m Olive,” she said, shaking his hand also. 

“Jeremy. I’m the surgical assistant for ortho.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Good to see you, Anh,” Jeremy said, softening slightly. Anh could barely hide the hearts popping from her gaze. Malcolm and Olive looked at each other, having a silent conversation before saying they were going to refill their water. 

“How long have they liked each other?” Olive whispered. 

“Who knows. As long as I’ve known them, at least.” 

They grazed on vegetables and pretzels, speaking amongst themselves. Malcolm told Olive about his procedures, and Olive did the same. In a way, it was a shame she hadn’t met him or the others before now. An overlapping surgery would have been a good icebreaker. 

“You’re starting with Carlsen tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. We have a posterior cervical fusion tomorrow.” 

“Are you ready for it?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s good because he just walked in.” 

The blood left Olive’s face as she turned, confirming what Malcolm said. Adam’s tall presence commanded the room, as did his black scrubs. He looked around, walking to Dr. Aslan, who pulled him into a hug.

“I thought you said you weren’t scared of him,” Malcolm snickered. 

“I’m not. I want to do well, that’s all. I need this job.” 

“Malcolm,” a voice drawled. 

“Holden,” Malcolm said, straightening. Holden eyed her curiously. Olive felt like a spectacle today, growing anxious. “This is Olive.” 

Holden’s eyes brightened, scanning her with recognition. “Olive! Finally.”

“Hello, Dr. Rodrigues. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking yet another hand. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Olive Smith. You’re Adam’s new surgical assistant, correct?”

“Dr. Carlsen, yep. I’m starting on his service tomorrow.” Olive couldn’t imagine why he had heard anything about her but chose to ignore that bit. In some ways, she didn’t want to know.

“You’ll do great. Adam might seem grumpy, but he’s not, deep down.” 

“He’s made every surgical assistant on his service cry,” Malcolm pointed out. 

“Olive doesn’t cry easy. Do you, Olive?” Holden smiled. 

“Why is Olive crying?” Adam asked, standing beside her. His scent invaded her space, wafting through her. It was woodsy and warm, dark and forbidden like him. 

“I’m not.” 

He looked concerned but nodded once. “Olive.” 

The way he said her name was heated, full of meaning and desire, as though she were precious to him. Olive couldn’t understand how it could be true, but there was no denying the difference between his greeting to her and the others. 

“Dr. Carlsen.” 

“I told you the other day that you can call me Adam,” he said. 

“Maybe one day. I’ve never called Dr. Aslan anything other than Dr. Aslan.” 

Never, more like, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. 

“Olive was just telling us about your surgery tomorrow,” Malcolm supplemented. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Should I be?”

“I walked into a conversation about you crying,” he pressed. 

“I told Olive you wouldn’t make her cry,” Holden explained. “You know the rumor mill.” 

Adam’s lips pressed into a flat line. 

“There’s nothing wrong with taking pride in your work and wanting things to be done properly,” Olive said quietly. “I can understand why you have a low tolerance for repeated mistakes.” 

“Do you have any questions about the procedure?”

“No. Dr. Aslan had a lot of do’s and don’ts in the OR, but I’m sure I’ll learn that as we go. I’m assuming you don’t want me to make sure ‘Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor)’ by Robert Palmer is playing by the time you walk in?”

Adam stared at her while Holden snorted into his drink, coughing aggressively. “Tell me you’re joking,” he insists. 

“No. I thought that was common knowledge. She would probably go feral if you put it on right now.” 

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered, rushing to the Spotify playlist. “Malcolm, come with me.” 

Adam continued looking at her, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I do not want you to have that playing, no.”

“Noted.”

He hesitated, then said the unexpected. “Olive, if for any reason you don’t want to work with me, I’d understand. My reputation is less than stellar regarding the working relationships I have here. If you’ve heard anything that makes you concerned, I apologize. I also cannot guarantee it won’t impact who you become friends with for the duration you’re on my service. Being associated with me can have negative social connotations.” 

“I’m not here to make friends,” Olive clarified. “I’d also rather make my own judgments rather than believe rumors. From what I’ve researched, you’re a phenomenal surgeon, and I’d be grateful to learn from you.” 

His lips parted, surprised, glancing towards Holden and Malcolm. “You seem friendly with Malcolm.” 

“That’s uh…new. I met him the other week. I walked into his on-call room, having a panic attack. He was really nice about the whole thing and helped me feel better. It was right after Dr. Aslan told me she was retiring, and there were no open positions. I didn’t know how I was going to supplement my income since picking up and leaving at the drop of a hat wasn’t an option. I don’t know anyone other than the people he introduced me to this afternoon.” 

Olive knew if she caught Adam’s eye, he would have that damn look again. The one that made her feel like a maze he was trying to find his way through. Dr. Aslan’s joyful shout saved her from a response as she started dancing and singing the song Olive had listened to so many times before. She was sucked into the crowd by Dr. Aslan herself, forced to sing along. 

With one last look at Adam, Olive confirmed her suspicions, frustrated with herself for giving him another puzzle piece. 

Chapter Text

For as long as she could remember, Olive wasn’t a morning person. That never changed, but she would be damned if she was late for her first surgery with Adam or unprepared. Still, she tossed and turned all night, terrified she would be late. 

It felt like going back for your first day of school. Jittery butterflies fluttering in her stomach, mixing with the anxiety in her veins, was a heady combination. They were scheduled for 8:30 AM, and the thought of screwing this up was enough to have Olive freshly showered out the door and to the train station by 5 AM. 

As always, she avoided eye contact with anyone nearby, opting to study her notes again as the minutes ticked past. At 6:15, she was striding through the hospital doors, ready to take on the day. Olive changed into her scrubs, heading to the surgical board to confirm their room. 

The fact OR 1 was in disarray didn’t bother her. In fact, being able to clean and reorganize everything helped ease her anxiety. By the time she finished prepping, it looked immaculate. She checked over the instrument sets three times, ensuring they were clean and in order before hiding them so the patient can’t see them when they’re rolled into the OR. Once they were under anesthesia, Olive would pull them out. 

Olive was satisfied that the scrub room, gowns, and gloves were fully stocked. She had been doing this long enough to know that the OR was prepped and ready to go. It was 7:23 when Olive was able to check her phone. 

     Malcolm: Can’t wait to hear how today goes, Kalamata. I’ll be up in the gallery when I can to cheer you on. 

     Adam: Can you meet me in my office at 7:30?

Oh, God. Olive ran to the elevator. Adam’s office was at least five minutes away. The elevator was going as slow as possible. She was sure of it. Now, she regretted not scarfing down the KIND bar Adam had gotten her last week. Depending on how long he wants to speak, there might not be time. 

Skidding to a halt at 7:29, Olive breathed a sigh of relief, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” he called. His office felt very him. It was minimalist, with no decorations or unnecessary items. It felt Scandinavian, with wooden and black features. There was a black, well-loved Chesterfield couch along the wall and two seats in front of his desk. 

“Good morning,” she chirped. “You asked to see me?”

“Olive, hey,” he smiled. “Take a seat.” 

She did as she was asked, wringing her hands together. Adam pulled out a breakfast wrap wrapped in foil and a latte and set them in front of her. Olive could smell the espresso from here, and her mouth was watering. 

“For you. I had a feeling you might have first-day nerves.” 

“Am I that transparent?” She flinched. 

“You care,” he said simply, as if that were explanation in itself. “Eat.” 

“What about you?” 

He nodded his head toward the second cup. “I got you pumpkin spice again. I hope that’s okay. I have a quick call in a moment, but I’ll see you in the OR. What time did you get here?” 

Olive was so touched by the gesture she couldn’t think. She couldn’t fathom why he would do this for her. Had he done this for his other assistants? Instead of asking, she accepted the drink, her body humming when the pumpkin spice hit her tongue. 

“Around 6:15. We’re in OR 1, and it’s prepped.” 

He looked at her, seemingly amazed. “Did you know Greg’s first surgery, he didn’t know he was supposed to ensure everything was set?”

Olive was horrified. “I don’t know who Greg is.” 

“Consider yourself lucky.” His phone rang, and Olive hopped up to leave.

“Thank you, Dr. Carlsen. I appreciate the caffeine.” 

“If you keep calling me that, don’t expect it again!” He called on her way out, but no heat was behind it. Olive chuckled, more cheerful than she had been moments ago. 

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The OR felt like a warzone. Everyone was quiet and tense, as though waiting for a bomb to drop. Olive introduced herself to the nurses, the anesthesiologist, and everyone else in the room to be met by grimaces. Dr. Carlsen’s nurse was seemingly impressed, so at least she had that going for her. 

“It looks good in here,” she approved. 

“Thank you.”

The patient had fallen under anesthesia, so it was go time. The gallery was packed, which was odd for a surgery like this. It was intensive, sure, but not so rare it would warrant a standing gallery. Dr. Carlsen strode in, sucking the air out of the room with him. He looked around but gave nothing away. 

“Does your assistant usually help with your gown or nurse? Dr. Aslan usually had her scrub nurse help.” 

“You, please.”

Olive nodded, holding a gown open and helping Adam slide inside. When she went to button the back, she huffed out a laugh. “I might need a step stool.”

“Ah. Sorry.” He bent low enough that she could reach. 

“Thank you,” she said, quickly buttoning and tying the rest. 

Adam stepped toward the patient, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he started debriefing the room. The patient was a 48-year-old female, here for a posterior cervical fusion to prevent future damage and help provide stability after an accident. He began the time-out, going around the room to confirm his staff is ready to begin. 

When it was Olive’s turn, she stood on a stool next to him, saying firmly, “Olive Smith, Dr. Carlsen’s surgical assistant. Everything is set.” 

“Including a stool,” he mused. There was a twinkle in his eyes that Olive wanted to see again.

“We can’t have been born in Grant’s Grove,” she pointed out, feeling bold. “Are all your ancestors Sequoia trees?”

She was caffeinated and ready to rock his socks off. The tech in the back’s jaw visibly dropped while the others gasped. The twinkle brightened beneath his black scrub cap. 

“No. I guess we can’t.” 

“Ten-blade?”

“Ten-blade,” he confirmed. 

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“Are you famous?” 

“Yes. I’m the lead singer of a rock band, didn’t you know?”

Olive snorted. “Your gallery is full.” 

“They’re probably hoping for a show. Greg ran out crying on his first day.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not going to do that.” Then, “Do you need more suction?” 

“I need more suction.” 

Olive smirked beneath her mask, satisfied. Everything had been perfect. Olive knew what instruments he needed and when. Adam never had to ask for anything, and the shock was evident. Though his face was covered, his eyes were expressive. They were almost done and ahead of schedule. She was so happy, she could burst. 

She handed him a curette smaller than what they had initially anticipated, satisfied with his nod. They were almost done, and it had only been three hours when the OR was booked for five. Unlike most surgeons, Adam insisted on closing up and dressing the sutures himself. 

“Thank you, everyone. This was great today.”

The entire team stared at him as though he had two heads. When he left for the scrub room, the scrub nurse turned to her and said, “Please don’t ever leave.”

Olive was on cloud nine. 

Her first couple of days with Adam passed in a blur after that, and Olive was hitting her stride. Olive ensured she was early every day, prepping the OR and finalizing detailed notes after each surgery. Her studying paid off, and she had memorized each procedure. Their patients were doing well, and to the gossip mill’s dismay, Olive hadn’t cried once. 

It was Friday afternoon when she saw Anh in the lunch room. Olive hesitated before taking the plunge. 

“Hey, it was Anh, right?”

“Olive, hey! Will you sit with me?”

“Thanks. How’s peds?” Olive had a protein shake today. It was cheap when you bought the powder in bulk and only used water. 

“Ugh, those little kiddos. I love them.”

“Did you always want to work with kids?”

“I think so,” Anh said thoughtfully. “I have a big family, and I guess I feel like I’ve always taken care of kids, so it feels natural. You know?”

Olive didn’t know. Not at all, but she nodded and smiled all the same. “And you and Jeremy…?”

Anh groaned. “Is it that obvious? God, I’ve liked him for so freaking long, Ol.” 

Ol and Kalamata. She had never had a nickname before Anh and Malcolm. 

“For what it’s worth, it seemed mutual.” 

“Kalamata,” Malcolm said. “Anh.” 

“Hey, Malcolm!” 

“I hear you and Carlsen are quite the team.” 

“It’s only been a few surgeries,” she deflected. “But it has been going well, yes.” 

“Please,” Anh scoffed. “I hear you’re the first person in the OR he’s gotten along with.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she frowned. “We barely speak most of the time.” 

That was true. Neither of them spoke much while they were operating, perhaps because they were too busy focusing on work or too shy. But they spoke with their eyes. Adam’s were expressive, and if Olive were being honest, beautiful. 

They were a liquid brown when he looked at her, showing his gratitude and appreciation. She knew when he was happy, frustrated, amused, or worried based on the spark in them. He always wore black scrubs and a black scrub cap, making his eyes the only colored feature. She could stare at them for hours. 

“From what I heard, he has nothing but good things to say,” Malcolm assured her.

“How do you like neuro?” Anh asked. 

“It’s fascinating,” Olive said honestly. “It’s definitely a change from cardio, but I’m enjoying it. It’s nice to learn something new, but it’s a different beast for sure. There seem to be more subspecialties in neuro, so you can dive into new pathology, which is cool. I feel like cardio has that intense prestige that comes with being in it, but I don’t really care about that.” 

“Hey, both are cooler than puking kids. Speaking of,” Anh held up her beeping pager. “Duty calls. Ol, it was great seeing you again! Let’s get together soon, yeah? Malcolm, give her my number.” 

“You got it. Later, Anh.” 

“Are you on-call this weekend?”

“Sadly. Are you?”

“No. Next weekend, though.” 

“So. How’s working with Carlsen really?”

“He’s fine,” she insisted. 

“What’s the deal with you two? Was he a previous fling? I mean, you joked with him during your first surgery, and he laughed. Laughed, Kalamata.” 

“Promise not to tell anyone?”

Malcolm’s eyes widened, but he nodded. For some reason, Olive trusted him. “He and I met at one of my other jobs. I didn’t know who he was and never learned his name. When we met to discuss the position, we were both shocked. Nothing happened. We just talked, but he was nice that evening. He helped me, and that stuck. I think he’s misunderstood.”

“Unapproachable, more like. You’re showing he has a human side, after all. That man is like a robot who only comes to life to cause destruction when there are issues in his OR.” 

“He cares a lot about his patients.” 

“It seems like you do, too.” 

“Don’t you think it’s hard not to?”

“Sometimes. I do my best to detach so I don’t let it consume me. I feel like it’s easy for us to do that, you know? It’s weird for me to think of him as human, though.” 

Olive deflected. “Is there something going on between you and Holden? It seemed like you were good friends.”

“I have the worst crush on him,” he admitted. “I’ve wanted him to ask me out for ages. Normally, I’d have no problem taking the lead, but with him being and attending and all…” 

“I’m sure he will,” she said warmly. “Did you always want to be in the medical field?”

“God, no. But my parents are both surgeons in Los Angeles, and there was no other path for me. My destiny was medical, but I still have a life. I saw how much they worked growing up, and no thank you. I like to date, have fun, and do karaoke. I don’t want to be chained to my job like that. They were never home.” 

“How long have you been at BoMa?”

“This is my third year. I like it, but I miss the sun.” 

“You grew up in California, then?”

“I sure did, Kalamata. Where did you?”

“Toronto. I was here on a school visa but was able to switch it to a work visa.”

“I’ve never been to—damn.” His pager started beeping, too. He gave Olive a side hug and hurried out of the lunch room. It was just as well. It was getting late, and she needed to finish her work before heading to the bar for her shift. All the while, she couldn’t help but wonder who Dr. Carlsen was talking about Olive to and what good things he had to say. 

Chapter Text

The past three days in the OR had been the smoothest of Adam’s career. Olive was phenomenal, and he was happy Aysegul had to retire. He wasn’t happy about the circumstances that forced her into that decision, but he couldn’t regret having Olive on his service. 

Olive was intuitive and clever, knowing what he needed at the same time he did, sometimes even before. He rarely had to ask for anything since she automatically had the instruments ready for him. She was shy but slowly coming out of her shell, sassing him at every opportunity. Adam liked it. It loosened him up, and he enjoyed the way her knees didn’t shake around him and the fact she didn’t cower away.

No, no. Olive was the type of woman to ask him in front of his entire staff if he needed to get his eyes checked because, clearly, he needed the three-millimeter curette, not the four-millimeter. Adam loved it.

What he didn’t love was the fact he didn’t know how to find a way to spend time with her outside of work. Hell, she hadn’t even said his name yet, being stuck on ‘Dr. Carlsen’ and official protocols. He also didn’t love that it was Friday evening, and he was going to a bar with Holden for a nurse’s going away party instead of being at home.

“Why are we going to this again?”

“Because Linda has been a nurse for longer than we’ve been alive, and we appreciate her.” 

Adam grunted. He didn’t know who Linda was, but Holden was more involved with the hospital, being a part of internal and emergency med. He wondered briefly if Olive would be there, but that was unlikely, given she only met some other surgical assistants recently. It was likely she hadn’t met many nurses outside Aysegul’s scrub nurse and now his own. 

He understood her hesitation and desire for professionalism, but surgical assistants and surgeons becoming friends was a common occurrence. Since the surgeons weren’t their bosses, in charge of pay, or any other administrative duties, there was no issue with HR.

Adam sighed, holding the door open for Holden. It was your standard bar in Boston, with wood paneling and dim lighting. Leather seats and dark green features. At least it didn’t have sticky floors or stale air that still smelled of smoke. 

“Holden!” An older woman beamed, pulling him into a hug. 

“Linda, congratulations! I’m going to miss you. Who’s going to trade recipes with me now?”

“Oh, you are sweet. You’re my favorite EM/IM. But, ssh, don’t tell the others.” She winked, turning to Adam. As she did, the light in her eye dimmed with surprise. “Dr. Carlsen, what a surprise!” 

“Please, call me Adam,” he said, holding his hand out. Adam hated people’s immediate reaction to him, their apparent need to distance themselves—an internal warning to stay away. “You’ll be missed at BoMa. Do you have any retirement plans?”

She blinked, the surprise growing. “Thank you for asking, Adam. My husband and I are going to celebrate with a trip to Hawai’i to start. We have a few road trips planned before we inevitably become free babysitting,” she chuckled. “But please, come over, and we can get you a drink and snacks. The bar was kind enough to let us bring in desserts.” 

“Mike’s Pastry?” Holden asked, rubbing his hands together. 

“As if I would accept anything less,” Linda confirmed. 

Holden said hello to everyone at the party, as did Adam. They had the same reaction as Linda, shocked to see him there. The gathering continued, albeit quietly, with a wide space between Adam and the rest. Sometimes, he hated it. He had always felt like an outsider, never fitting in or belonging to anyone. He tried to make small talk with a group of nurses, but it was clear they weren’t comfortable saying more than a few words. 

Adam excused himself as politely as he could, walking toward Holden. 

“I’m going to get a beer. Do you want anything?”

“A pornstar martini,” he smirked. 

Adam scowled, knowing he was only ordering it to piss him off. “Linda, ladies, may I get you anything?”

They all stared again, shaking their heads in response. A pang hit him. Was he that much of a dick they couldn’t even fathom he’d buy them a drink at a bar?

He was a foot away when he stopped dead in his tracks. Behind the bar was Olive, smiling at a customer while she handed them a pint. She was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt that was too loose and jeans. Her hair was down and wavy, but her eyes looked tired. Other bartenders were available, but for Adam, there was only her. 

This must be her third job, and Adam hated it. She didn’t belong here. 

“Olive.” 

The blood drained from her face as she looked at him, her smile disappearing. He hoped she wasn’t upset to see him the way the others at the party were. She looked petrified, unmoving. 

“Dr. Carlsen.” 

“Adam, please.” 

“What can I get you?” Her voice was high, cheeks flushed. 

“Holden wanted a pornstar martini,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“On it.” 

“Is this your third job?”

“Mhmm.” She seemed determined not to look at him, but Adam wouldn’t have it. 

“Will you ever tell me why you have three jobs?”

“Probably not. Did you want a drink?”

“A Guinness, please.” 

He was silent, watching her work. She was just as meticulous at the bar as in the OR. He wanted to know her secrets and fix them for her. Shield her from whatever issues she was having so she could breathe. 

“One pornstar martini,” she said, setting the glasses delicately in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“A shot of champagne. He’ll know what to do if he’s had this before.” 

Adam texted Holden, telling him to come get it. There was no way he was leaving Olive. 

“Are you that lazy that you can’t—”

“Here’s your Guinness. Is there anything else—oh! Hi Dr. Rodrigues.” If possible, Olive flushed harder. 

“Olive, hey! We’re here for Linda’s retirement party. She’s an ER nurse. Have you met her?”

“I haven’t, but I hope you’re having a nice time.” 

“Sure am. Feel free to come and say hi if you want. For now, I’ll leave you with my sullen friend here. He’s scaring the other guests, being Dr. Unapproachable, and all that. They’re scared he’ll make them cry.”

Holden left with a wink, and Adam scowled again. He was going to fucking kill him later. Olive forced out a laugh, but her eyes were on Adam. She looked concerned for his well-being. He could get used to that. Maybe he wouldn’t kill his best friend after all. 

“Are you having a nice time?” She asked hesitantly.

“As nice of a time one can have when they’re forced to come to a retirement party for someone they don’t know,” he said, tone clipped. “What time are you off?”

“Probably one or two AM, depending on how busy we are.” 

“Olive, you got to work at five today.” 

“No rest for the wicked,” she grinned. 

His hackles went up, and the need to protect her rose. From what, he didn’t know. “How often do you do this?”

“As often as I need.” 

“Olive,” he pressed, worried.

“I have to go help the other customers. Can I get you anything else?”

“Let me help you.” 

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Olive stared dumbly at him like he was a foreign species. Like she had never heard anything more ridiculous. 

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Olive stared into his eyes, which were opaque and earnest. God, this was embarrassing. First, he met her when she was a catering staff and now a bartender. And he was offering to help her. 

Someone was offering to help her. 

She couldn’t parse it. 

When was the last time she had someone in her corner? Or anyone offering to help her with anything. It was a concept she couldn’t fathom. Olive had been on her own for too long, relying on no one but herself. More than that, he already had. He bought her coffee and breakfast when she needed it—real food and caffeine. 

“That’s very kind of you to offer, but…” she faltered, not knowing how to answer. “You’ve already done a lot for me.” 

He frowned, biting the inside of his cheek. “You have to be tired.” 

“I’m juggling things. I manage.” 

“But for how long? Have you been doing this all year?”

She knew he wasn’t trying to be invasive. He probably did want to help, but Olive couldn’t talk about these things. About how tired she was or how she would love someone’s help. They weren’t plausible to think of. She needed to focus and do what needed to be done. 

“Yes. As I said, I do what I need to do, as often as I need to do it.” 

“It’s not healthy. You’re running yourself ragged.” 

“Can I get you another drink?”

“No.” 

“Okay, then. I need to get back to my job. Enjoy the party.”

“Olive, please. I—”

Olive strode away, tears pricking in her eyes. She knew he was trying to be kind, but she didn’t want or need his help. He didn’t understand. He was probably filthy rich with million-dollar hands that the hospital insured. He had a family that could afford charity galas, and he likely bought a penthouse in Boston with cash. He deserved all of it, sure. But there was nothing he could do to help her. 

They were from different worlds. 

Adam didn’t leave his stool, scowling at anyone who looked shady or wouldn’t leave Olive alone, serving as a loyal watchdog. She loved and hated it. He really was menacing when he wanted to be. He didn’t try to talk to her again, respecting her space. 

Olive attended to all the other customers, making drinks and pouring beers quickly. It was Friday, so it made sense it was busy. At least the tips would be good, and it was nearing midnight. The retirement party was in full swing. When Olive looked back at him, his beer was empty. Steeling herself, Olive walked back over. 

“Do you want a refill?”

“No.” 

“Right. Well, it’s pretty late. Are you going to head home? Today’s surgery was long. You must be tired.” 

“You were right beside me, and you’re not going home,” he muttered, jaw clenching.

“We have different circumstances. You should get some sleep.” 

“And you shouldn’t?”

“What do you want from me,” she hissed. God, he was infuriating sometimes. He was bossy and commanding, so difficult to reconcile with. 

“You already know,” he said, shooting daggers back.

“I hope you enjoy disappointment then, Dr. Carlsen. I’m not your problem.” 

“You are my problem.” 

“Just like Greg was your problem?”

“Greg was an idiot, and you know it.”

“I don’t even know him!” She was exasperated. “My point is, if the rumors are true, you didn’t worry about your other surgical assistants. I’m no different. I’m taking care of my issues.” 

“You’re entirely different, and you know it.” 

“Dr. Carlsen, we—”

“Adam.” 

“—have only known each other for a couple of days, and while I appreciate your concern, I meant what I said. I take my job at BoMa seriously. In many ways, it’s my life. I have three jobs because I have to have three jobs. I am taking every precaution in my power to not let it impact my work. Have our surgeries been subpar? Is there something you’d like to change?”

“You know they’ve been seamless.” 

“So you have no concerns?”

He looked deflated, and Olive hated it. For whatever reason, she wanted his help. Deep down, she knew he would make everything better if she let him in. Her problems would probably disappear because he slayed anything that dared to defy him—a knight in black armored scrubs. 

“Why won’t you let me help?”

“Ol, can you run to the back and grab another bottle of Greygoose?”

“On it.” 

Olive was vaguely aware of Adam following her into the darkened hallway. 

“Why are you following me?”

“Because we need to talk.”

“No, you want to talk. There’s a difference.” 

“You are so stubborn.” 

“And you’re not? What are you, seventy?”

“Fifty-four. What are you, twelve?”

She spun on her heels, heart pounding. “Listen. I have my own life with issues that are not interfering with your surgeries, which should be your only concern.” 

“Fine,” he snapped. He was less than an inch away, his heat emanating toward her. His height was towering but not intimidating. His eyes were more black than brown now, looking down at her. “You want this to be about work? You are my concern, being my surgical assistant. I don’t want to have to be worried about you not eating or sleeping enough, the threat of you passing out one day looming over either of us. You’re phenomenal, Olive. I’ve never had surgeries run as smoothly as ours have. Everything is better with you by my side, and I’m unwilling to let anything jeopardize that.”  

Something twisted in her chest. He seemed to care genuinely, yet she was disappointed. She knew she had pushed him to this point, but deep down, Olive didn’t want this to be only about work for Adam. She was silly for wishing it would be okay for him to be worried about her—just Olive. That wasn’t part of her plan.

He leaned forward slightly, his warm breath washing over her face. It was dark and woodsy, with a hint of hops. His hand cupped her cheek gently, her eyes fluttering closed. His touch was feather light and fleeting, his thumb sweeping across her face before it was gone. 

“You are my concern, Olive.” 

When she opened her eyes, he was gone. 

Chapter Text

Being an adult was hard work. Olive was starting to seriously wonder why she thought it would be so much fun to be older when she was a child. It was Wednesday, officially a week since she started working with Adam. 

He was nothing like she expected. Several people warned her against him. They told her all sorts of things. 

Dr. Adam Ass Carlsen was exactly as it sounded. 

He was needlessly antagonistic. 

Unapproachable. 

Rude. 

Neurology’s wunderkind, believing he was above everyone else. 

But Olive saw none of it. He took his job extremely seriously, and Olive respected that. He should take it seriously—all of them should. People’s lives were in their hands, and she didn’t blame Adam for wanting everyone to be prepped and ready to go. 

As for the other accusations? He was kind in his own way. Adam was factual. Straight forward. He didn’t make small talk because he found it uncomfortable, but also, he didn’t have time. It wasn’t hard to deduce people misunderstood that when she watched him interact. He was a straight shooter because he needed to be. There couldn’t be grey areas about the procedures. Adam wanted to know that everyone understood what was required, which warranted black-and-white information—no emotions involved. 

Where others saw arrogance, Olive saw brilliance. He had an excellent bedside manner with patients, and his clear communication eased their worries. When it came to Olive, he had been nothing but considerate. 

He was different from anyone she had ever met. She wondered idly if that was because Adam was very much a man, and those who came before him were boys. Olive had difficulty making friends, let alone anything more, but something about Adam made her pause. It was as though she was intrinsically linked to him, though that would be impossible. 

His deep baritone eased any worry she had. 

The twinkle in his eye when they caught each other’s gaze in the OR became her favorite sparkle. 

When she saw him, she noticed how well he fit his suits and scrubs—something she had never cared about before. 

More than that, she found herself craving his company when she was alone. 

She needled him endlessly because she couldn’t help herself. Everyone was so scared of Adam, and wasn’t that boring? She loved to see his uneven smile directed at her and the crinkles around his face when he smiled. 

He took every comment she made in stride, seemingly amused. He offered to buy her coffee and food every chance he had, which Olive declined. She appreciated it but was too embarrassed to say yes. 

She could tell he was curious about her life outside of work, as evidenced by their hallway scene at the bar. Her skin still prickled from how close he was, remembering the way his breath washed over her face. It was the first time she had wondered what it might be like to feel someone else’s lips against hers. 

Olive imagined that if they did kiss, his lips would be warm and confident against hers. Under his scrub cap, he had lush, wavy hair. It was easy to think it was soft, and her fingers would rake through it like butter. She felt warmth pool in her stomach every time his eyes went from blank and empty to opaque when he looked at her. 

Yet, he was also…bossy. That was a good word. He wasn’t shy about letting Olive know his opinion and telling her what she should do. It made her irate, but she also loved it—though she would never admit that. 

The idea, the concept of someone swooping in to help her so she could breathe for a moment, was lovely. It was nice when he told her what to do because Olive was tired of everything, including making constant decisions. She couldn’t help but fight him at every turn, just like now. 

“Give me one good reason.” 

“You’re my boss,” she said again. It was more of a reminder for herself.

“How many times are we going to go over this? I am not your boss.”

“That doesn’t mean you should be taking care of me.” 

“Buying you a latte hardly means I’m your caretaker,” he grumbled. 

“You didn’t buy your other assistants coffees.” 

“They weren’t you. Would it make you feel better if I sent them flowers and a gift card to Starbucks with my apologies?”

She glared, but Adam paid no attention. He corralled her into Starbucks. 

“Let me buy you breakfast and one of those gross pumpkin things,” he said gently. “We have a long surgery today.” 

“I ate breakfast when I was at home.” 

“Oh? And what did you have.” 

“A protein shake.” 

“Great. I’ll get you a breakfast sandwich from here to supplement your calories.” 

Her stomach wept at the thought. Words were hard when all she could think about was a warm breakfast sandwich and latte. “You’re not…I don’t know my dude or whatever.” 

“Dude?” He asked painfully. 

“I don’t know. I’m distracted by the smells.” 

“This has nothing to do with me being a dude and everything to do with my appreciation for you and our difference in salary. You’re making my life easier, and I want you to stay.” 

“You’re bribing me?”

He shrugged. “If that’s what you need to let me buy you coffee, then yes, I’m bribing you. Consider it a bonus.” 

“I thought you weren’t in charge of my pay,” she smirked. 

Adam ignored her. “A grande black coffee and pumpkin spice latte,” he looked down, grabbing a few items, “these, and whatever breakfast sandwich she wants. Let me guess, the croissant one.”

“It’s the best of both worlds,” she argued.

Adam paid the small fortune without hesitation, handing her the bag of snacks. “How about we compromise? I’ll stop asking you if I can buy you coffee every morning if you let me buy you a latte one day, each week.” 

“I don’t understand what you’d get out of this.” 

“Easy. Look at all the employees around us. They see me with you, and it makes me seem human. Most people are scared of me. It would help my reputation.” 

“You know, you could try talking to them. That would help the fear factor.” 

He rolled his eyes dismissively. “It’s an illusion, Olive. I don’t have anything to say to them. I have things to say to you.”

“You’re a very grumpy old man,” she deflected, but a thrill ran through her. When a person like Adam gave you his attention, it meant something. He gave it to no one, allowing very few people in his inner circle. Olive was honored by the thought. 

“Not when I’m with you,” he smirked. 

“So I’m just a pawn in your game,” she clarified. 

“No. You would never be a pawn. You’re the Queen, and this is no game. Not for me.” 

Olive’s body flushed. 

“Adam! Haven’t seen you in a while. Who’s this?” 

Adam’s eyes went dark. “Tom. This is Olive. Olive, this is Tom. He’s a doctor as well.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, doctor…?”

“Benton. Tom Benton.” 

“Dr. Benton,” she shook his hand, which was uncomfortably soft. It was unnatural. Adam held her latte out. “Thank you.” 

“I’m sorry. Is this…am I interrupting a date?” Tom looked like it was Christmas. 

“I’m Dr. Carlsen’s surgical assistant. We were getting coffee before our surgery.”

“Do you have a moment?” 

Olive looked at Adam, who scowled. Tom continued, unbothered by the non-response.  

“You’re a cute thing, Olive. You could do with a few procedures, though. Breast augmentation. Butt lift. Maybe a blepharoplasty, but you could just need sleep. Lip fillers would enhance your—”

“Jesus Christ, Tom,” he snapped, placing his arm along her chair. 

“I take it you’re in plastics?” Olive hoped her tone was innocent. It was obvious he was. He looked like a walking billboard for injectables and face lifts.  

“What gave me away?” he grinned, flashing his veneers. 

“I think I’m good, but thanks for the offer.” 

“How do you and Dr. Carlsen know each other?”

“Adam was starting med school at Harvard just as I was about to leave.” 

“Ah. Fun!” 

“You’re a surgical assistant? Tell me, how many times has this insensitive dick made you cry?”

“I’m not sure who the insensitive dick is, but Dr. Carlsen is incredible to work for,” she said easily. She wasn’t a fan of Tom. “I’ve never cried on his service and enjoy being on neuro. I moved over from cardio a week ago.”

“Got yourself a keeper, finally.” 

“Olive is phenomenal.” 

“Perhaps I should poach you,” Tom said, eyeing the way Adam’s arm tightened. 

“I’m happy where I am. Speaking of…” Olive looked up at Adam. Tom was making her uncomfortable, though she didn’t understand why. 

“We should leave,” Adam said, nodding curtly at Tom. “Tom.” 

“Always a pleasure. Olive, it was great to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” 

They left, Adam noticeably tenser than when they arrived. He didn’t speak on the way to the elevator or when they stepped inside. 

“Tom is interesting.” 

Adam huffed. “I have nothing good to say about Tom. The kindest thing I could say is that he’s unbelievably annoying. More importantly, why is he Tom and not Dr. Benton?” 

“He’s not my Dr. Benton,” she teased. 

“You’ve never said my name,” Adam pouted. “And Tom isn’t your anything. Stay away from him.” 

“Remember what I said about you being bossy?”

“I mean it on this one. Plus, you never listen to what I say anyway.” 

“I wonder why that is.” 

“What do I have to do?”

“A craniotomy for a glioblastoma tumor removal in a little over an hour.” 

“Smart-ass.” 

Olive took a swig of her latte. “Aa…” Adam’s head whipped around, all his features lighting up. Her plan worked like a charm. As if she would be that easy. “Delicious.” 

“You little—”

She cut him off, laughing. “As if I’d just say your name on a whim.” 

They stepped out of the elevator, walking in stride. Olive decided to be honest with Adam, at least a little. 

“Can we talk quickly? Your office?”

“Of course.” 

Olive made herself comfortable on the couch, Adam sitting next to her. He looked concerned, ready to hang on her every word. 

“You’re extremely kind,” she started, taking a deep breath. “I appreciate that, really, I do. I’m not trying to…gatekeep your name, I suppose. It’s just—you’re nice and supportive and make me feel…” she shook her head. “I haven’t had friends in a long time or someone in my life to confide in. I’ve been alone for a while, and I’m not used to relying on anyone. I guess I’ve been calling you Dr. Carlsen because separating my emotions is easier. Does that make sense?”

“It does. May I ask why you’ve been alone?”

She sipped her latte, steeling herself. “My grandparents died when I was little, and when I was fifteen, my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She died three weeks later.” 

Adam swore, wiping his hand down his face. “Shit, Olive. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I emancipated when I was sixteen, and I’ve been on my own ever since then. I guess I kept people at a distance in the past because I didn’t have the time, you know? I still don’t, but even more so when I was at school. And the fear of relying on someone and having that ripped away was very real for me. So I didn’t.” 

Adam nodded, and she could see the gears behind his eyes working. “And I…”

“Keep forcing your way into my life somehow,” she teased. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, or I didn’t enjoy meeting you at the gala, but it’s a lot for me. Different, I guess. But I need this job, and I need to do a good job for you as your assistant. Hence me trying to separate Dr. Carlsen and…”

“And,” he pressed, smiling. 

“You,” she grinned. 

“Thank you for telling me. Why do you need three jobs?”

“Uh-uh. You don’t get to learn all my secrets in one morning.” 

She hopped off the couch, needing to get ready for surgery.  

“Can you blame me for trying?”

“No. Though I wish I understood why you wanted to know so badly.” 

“You don’t get to learn all my secrets in one morning,” he quipped. “I’ll see you in the OR.” 

“Dr. Carlsen?”

“Ms. Smith.” 

Olive snorted, shaking her head. “Thank you for coffee Wednesday. Same time next week?”

She left a beaming Adam at his desk. 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

“Kalamata,” Malcolm crooned. “That’s a big smile.” 

“I just had a delicious latte. All is good in the world,” she beamed. 

“From Carlsen?” 

“Yes. He insisted. I feel guilty sometimes.” 

“Don’t. It doesn’t matter if we’re friends with surgeons.” 

“Friends,” she breathed. 

“Or more? No judgment here. He’s different with you.” 

“I haven’t had friends in a long time,” Olive admitted. 

“Is it more than that with Adam?” Malcolm asked, sitting next to her. 

“I…I’m not like most people. I don’t see someone and get that oomph, you know? I don’t see them and feel any kind of attraction. Not until I get to know them and trust them, which almost never happens.” 

“But you trust Carlsen,” he summarised. 

“I do. And it’s been fun getting to know him. He makes me feel safe and seen. It’s weird. I’ve never experienced it before.” 

“You know it’s okay to like him, right?”

Olive was quiet for a long time. “It feels inappropriate. But I do, I think. Like him. He’s nothing that I expected, based on what everyone told me. The more I get to know him, the easier it is for the big feelings to take center stage.” 

“You two would be cute together in your own way.” 

“We’re from different planets.” 

“You bring out the best in each other,” he countered.

“I thought you didn’t like him,” Olive snorted. 

“He’s my crush’s best friend. He must have some redeeming qualities outside the OR. Clearly, he has a heart buried in there somewhere.” 

“I’ve never even called him Adam,” she confessed. “I’ve been trying to keep a line in the sand, but the more I get to know him, the harder it is. He’s a good person. Speaking of crushes…” 

“No, I haven’t asked Holden out.” 

“Maybe you should get him a latte. It’s chipping at my defenses, anyway.” 

Malcolm laughed, shaking his head. “A latte, huh? That’s the golden ticket.” 

“It’s certainly making an impact on me. How come you don’t like him?”

“Carlsen?”

She nodded. 

“I don’t dislike him, per se. He can rub people, myself included, the wrong way. His feedback can be straightforward, to the point of rude. I understand he wants things done properly, but he can be uncompromising. It’s easier to avoid him, hence why everyone says he’s unapproachable.” 

“Do you think that will change?”

“I think you’re absolutely causing a shift in the surgical ward. Not just with me. People are starting to see him in a different light. He smiles at you. A feat previously thought to be impossible.” 

“He’s a quiet protector.” 

“He’s bossy. But you seem to like it,” Malcolm grinned. 

Olive wanted to scowl and deny what he said, but it was true. Adam was bossy, and Olive did like it. It was nice not having to make the decision sometimes. The mental load of life was enough as it was. It was clear he wanted to help, but could she ever let him?

Chapter Text

“Are you okay?” Olive’s voice was gentle, cutting through the stream of the water. It was their first time scrubbing out together. 

“It’s part of the job.” 

“Do you want me to come with you to talk to the family?”

He seemed surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “You would do that?”

“Of course. If you wanted me to.” 

“No one ever has.” 

“Just say the word.” 

“That’d be great. Thanks.” 

They finished scrubbing out, heading toward the waiting room, where Mr. Flynn was waiting. He was in his sixties, his foot tapping a rhythm. Against her better judgment, Olive squeezed Adam’s hand in comfort. His entire body was tense. From what she knew of him, he would take this personally, as though the burden of one of the most deadly diseases was his shoulder to bear. 

“Mr. Flynn, this is Olive, my colleague who operated with me on your wife today.” 

They said their hellos and sat down with him. His eyes were dimmed as though he knew good news wouldn’t come. 

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Julie is alive, but yes. I’m sorry. We were able to remove the tumor, but while we were operating, we found widespread damage. There were other tumors that were severely interwoven with healthy brain tissue, so there weren’t defined borders between the two.”

“What does that mean?”

Adam shifted uncomfortably, knowing they were getting to the emotional part, so Olive took the reins. Olive made sure her voice was soft and gentle. 

“When this happens, the tumor in question tends to be inoperable. They didn’t show up on the scans because the tumors look like healthy brain matter. In Mrs. Flynn’s case, the location of the tumors found during the operation are in sensitive areas that control her vision, speech, and body movement. 

“If we were to try and remove them, those functions would likely be disrupted, and that’s not something Dr. Carlsen was comfortable doing today without first discussing it with you and Mrs. Flynn.  We can try, but there’s no guarantee on how much time it would buy due to how much it spread.” 

They were silent for a moment, letting him take in Olive’s words. 

“I had a feeling,” he nodded, likely parsing but not accepting the severity of the situation. “She’s been different the past few weeks. I didn’t understand it, and neither did she. I think we assumed it was the one you removed.” 

“It’s a difficult disease to navigate,” Olive consoled. 

“Thank you for all you’ve done. Both of you. So I guess…” 

“We’ll do whatever you choose,” Adam stressed. “But it was important you had the facts before deciding since it may impact her quality of life.”

He shook his head. “You can roll her back upstairs for now. We can talk about it. Maybe I’ll take her on a trip she’s always wanted to go on instead.” 

Oh. Oh. Heat flooded behind her eyes, but she couldn’t cry. That would be unacceptable. She forced her features to remain blank, wondering how many times Adam had to do this on his own. They said their goodbyes, shaking Mr. Flynn’s hand and leading him back to their room. 

When they were back in the elevator alone, Olive pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Are you okay?”

“Mhmm.” 

“Olive, Sweetheart. Look at me.” 

She did as asked, for once. He swiped her tears away with his thumb, cupping her cheek. 

“Thank you for being there. You made that better.” 

She snorted. “I just told a man that his wife of almost fifty years is basically a ticking bomb.” 

He led them to his office, doing the unexpected once they were inside, pulling her into his chest. She was initially confused, not having hugged someone in a long time, but it was lovely. He was warm and solid, shielding her from the world and herself. She wrapped her arms around him tentatively, and he squeezed her tighter. 

“You told him the truth and gave him options on what would be the best course of action,” Adam amended. “Which is hard to do. It is one of the worst diseases we have to operate on, and I can tell you now that it won’t be the last, though I wish it were.”

“Have you known anyone to survive it?”

“No. Every patient I’ve had has passed away from glioblastoma. If I were selfish, I’d stop taking consults for it, but the most we can do is buy them more time with their families.” 

Olive closed her eyes, soothed by his warmth. He smelled of his usual clean and woodsy scent, dark and forbidden—heavenly. Instead of telling him that, she said, “No one has hugged me in a long time.” 

When he said that it had been the same for him, that broke her heart a little. Olive hugged him tighter and let the world fade away.

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Olive hadn’t left the hospital yet, though she should. She needed to be at her catering shift soon but couldn’t move from her seat. She was engrossed in neurology, brimming with questions. Maybe it was Adam and the way he talked her through everything during surgery or how his passion seeped through, but she enjoyed it more than cardio. 

Then again, Dr. Aslan hadn’t picked up many unique cases before retiring. Olive should have seen it as a sign, but she hadn’t thought twice. With Adam, everything was different. They seemed to have something unique in almost every surgery, so Olive was constantly learning. 

The downside was the mental tax. She studied every moment she could, wanting to do well and also because she found it fascinating. She was finally about to change when her pager started beeping. Odd, given she wasn’t on-call. Her phone rang. 

“Dr. Carlsen?”

“I’m sorry to ask this, but have you left?”

“No. Is everything okay?”

“I have a neuro consult in the ER, and we’re going to need to operate. She’s six, and—”

“Do you need help?”

“Please?” he sighed. “I don’t trust anyone else with this case. It’s a glioma, and she’s been having seizures.” 

“I’ll meet you in the OR.” 

She knew they wouldn’t have much time before the surgery, but there would be enough. Olive ran to Starbucks and ordered coffee before heading to the OR. She left the coffee and a small cup of ice for Adam before prepping the OR as quickly as possible. 

“Are you Olive? I’m Gus. I’ll be your scrub nurse tonight.” 

“I am. It’s nice to meet you,” Olive said, shaking his hand. 

“I hear you’re the woman who has tamed Dr. Carlsen.” 

“Nah. He’s great, and I love learning from him.”

“If you can make this run smoothly, that’s all I care about. The last surgery I had with him, and Greg was a fiasco.” 

The patient was rolled in, and Olive returned to the scrub room when Adam appeared. 

“Hey. This is for you, and some ice to cool it down. I wasn’t sure if you could use some caffeine.” 

Adam was too touched for words, accepting it gratefully. “I needed this. Thank you. I’ll pay you back.” 

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve bought me plenty. You said she’s six with a glioma?”  

“Yes. In her cerebral cortex. Hopefully, this will stop her seizures.”

Everything about Adam was sharp and precise. 

His jawline. 

The way his forearms flexed as he scrubbed in. 

His gaze. 

How his long fingers moved concisely.

Adam was pure seduction in his own way. He took no prisoners when he spoke, but when he cared about you, it was easy to feel like the most important person in the universe. She wondered idly who made him feel that way. Surely, someone did. 

“The poor thing. She’s in good hands now.”

Adam looked at her warmly, rinsing his arms off. “No one has ever bought me coffee. Thank you, Olive.” 

Gus popped his head in. “Olive, quick question.”

“Coming. I’ll see you in there soon. Everything is set.” 

“I’d expect nothing less at this point.”  

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It was good Olive got them caffeine because they operated for another six hours until the early morning. Adam and Olive were exhausted when it was done, silent as they scrubbed out together. The surgery had been successful, and Olive learned quickly that working on a child was much different than an adult.  

“She’s so small,” Olive whispered. “I can’t imagine what her parents must be feeling right now. The worry and fear.” 

“Shall we go tell them the good news?”

“Lets.” 

Gus walked in, letting out a low whistle. “That was some op. I’m going to get dinner in the cafeteria. Want to join me, Olive?”

“We’re going to talk to the family. Thanks, though.”

He was nice, but Olive didn’t like he only asked her, leaving Adam out. Plus, she wasn’t about to spend money she didn’t have. Gus shrugged, waving them goodnight. They were alone in the elevator, Adam eyeing her curiously.

“You didn’t want to have dinner with the nurse?”

“Nah,” she smiled weakly.

“Are you not hungry?”

She thought of the three dollars she spent on his coffee and how that could have been three ramen dinners. “I have to get to my—” Olive faltered, blood draining from her face. “Oh, god. I didn’t call off my catering shift.” 

“Will you get in trouble?”

“Probably fired,” she groaned, walking toward the waiting room.

“That’s right. Your boss was a piece of work.” 

“Damn,” she sighed. 

“I’m sorry. I asked you to stay,” he frowned. 

“This was more important to me. It’s fine. I hated that job anyway.” 

“You met me at that job,” he said, bumping her shoulder gently. 

“That was the only good thing that happened there.” 

He looked pleased, flashing her favorite uneven smile. Talking to the parents didn’t take long. Relief didn’t cover how they felt. Both couldn’t stop expressing their gratitude, thanking them over and over. They showed the parents back to the room, heading toward Adam’s office.

“So. Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry,” she sighed, too tired to lie. 

“May I buy you dinner? It’s the least I could do since you’re here late and potentially fired because of me.” 

“Were you on call tonight?”

“Nah. I was in the right place at the right time.”

“I’m glad. You probably saved her life.” Olive bit her bottom lip, tempted. “Is it inappropriate for you to—”

“No. Nor do I mind. The opposite, in fact. Do you like sushi? I know a place down the road that should still be open.” 

Her mouth watered. Olive loved sushi, and it had been so long. 

“Please?”

“Okay. Yes. Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“Let’s meet downstairs after we change. It’s a quick walk away.” 

Olive hurried through changing, too excited at the prospect of a real dinner. As expected, she had a voicemail and email waiting for her, firing her for missing her shift. She barely cared, hating that job as it was. Adam was waiting for her in the lobby, looking suave and casual, even out of scrubs. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a black henley, and a black jacket. Her heart fluttered.

“Was this your plan all along?”

“Hmm?”

“To make me too tired to say no to dinner,” she teased.

“You said no to Gus,” he pointed out. 

“Gus is not you,” she said softly. 

Even in the dim light, she could see the flush on his cheeks. “Did you hear from your job?”

“I’m fired,” she shrugged. “It is what it is. I’m too tired to worry right now.” 

“I’ve said it a dozen times, but your boss is a piece of work,” he grumbled. 

“It was my least favorite job.” 

“Do you want to order takeout or eat at the restaurant? I live near here, so we can go to my place if you’d like. I get it after long shifts. Sometimes you need home.” 

Olive had to stop herself from laughing. She avoided her “home” at all costs. The sentiment was sweet. In truth, silence would be perfect. “Whichever would be quieter.” 

She nearly whimpered at the restaurant’s aroma. Adam ordered quickly once Olive assured him she would enjoy whatever they had. She loved sushi. It wasn’t long before they made their way toward Adam’s house. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to a sushi bar with a conveyor belt.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Maybe next time. If I can find one whose health standards don’t appall me.” 

“No buffets for you, I take it?”

He looked horrified. “The sanitary concerns are unlimited, Olive. This is me here.” 

It was a traditional brownstone with a black door and bay window. The steps to the door were clean and enclosed in cast iron railings. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“It was an indulgence. Someone wanted to knock it down and build an apartment block. I couldn’t bear the thought.” 

Inside was light and spacious. Everything was clean and tidy so that someone could easily believe no one lived here. 

“You don’t have any decorations.”

“Ah. I’m not good with that kind of stuff.”

“It’s pretty. I can see why you like it.” 

“The biggest thing is how close it was to work. I’m glad you like it.” 

He was meticulously opening boxes, splaying them on the counter. 

“I didn’t realize we were feeding an army.” 

Adam shrugged. “Sushi night.” 

Olive suspected it was more than that. Adam was a quiet protector and obsessed with control. She knew he didn’t like she couldn’t afford a latte and suspected he worried about her health, too. It was sweet and thoughtful. Things Olive wasn’t used to, from someone else.  

She savored every bite. Somehow, he ordered all of her favorites. There was an assortment of sushi rolls, sashimi, edamame, and a salmon and ikura fish bowl. Flavors exploded on her tongue as they discussed the upcoming cases. 

“Maybe I’m projecting, but you seem to like neuro.” 

“Perhaps you’re seeing what you want to see,” she teased, stealing one last edamame though she was stuffed. It didn’t take much convincing to move to the couch. Olive sank into it, facing Adam.

“Ah, of course. You’d rather be on someone else’s service.” 

“Mhmm. Maybe I should contact EM/IM and hang out with Malcolm. Although, Tom did want me on his service. I don’t know if I could hang in plastics, though. I don’t think that’s my style.” 

“Tom,” he scowled. 

“What’s your problem with him?”

“We were briefly in med school together.”

“And we don’t like him?”

“We do not.” 

“This was delicious. Thank you. I like this tea, too. What is it?” 

“My pleasure. It’s a decaf green tea with lemon, mango, and ginger. What are you going to do?”

“About what?” Olive tried to hide her yawn, but it was hard. She was sleepy and full. This couch was comfortable and warm—a dangerous combination. 

“Your job.”

“It’s a problem for tomorrow.” 

“You mean today.” 

“Damn. I should get going.” 

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’d like. I have spare rooms.” 

“I…” really wanted to. She really wanted to say yes. Staying awake another hour for the train ride home would be difficult, and being warm for a night was appealing. Fuck it. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I have spare clothes.”

“Not at all.” 

They cleaned the kitchen quickly before heading upstairs. Olive almost cried when she saw the fluffy duvet. It would be the best sleep she had in a long time. 

“There’s a bathroom next door that you’re welcome to use. I have spare toothbrushes if you need one?”

“I’m all good. I always have mine with me in case.”

“My room is the last door in the hallway. If you need anything, don’t hesitate.”

“Thank you. For this and dinner.” 

“Night, Olive. Have a good sleep.” 

Sleep, she did. The moment her head hit the pillow, she was taken under. 

Chapter Text

Adam was anxious. His scrub nurse called at 7:30, asking where Olive was. They had surgery at 8 AM sharp, and the OR wasn’t prepped. She wasn’t accusatory, just confused. They had all gotten used to Olive. She had never been late and never not prepped the OR. He tried calling, but it went to voicemail. 

He didn’t have a good feeling, but that was nothing new. Adam worried about her constantly, but true to her word, she never let anything interfere with their patients or surgeries. He wouldn’t even be upset if she was sleeping and they needed to push the surgery. Somehow, he knew that wasn’t it. Olive was too sacrificial to sleep for herself, though he wished she would. She looked like a different person the morning she woke up at his house. She needed rest. 

     Adam: Are you okay? You’ve never been late. I’m not upset, just worried. Text me, please. Or call. I don’t care. 

The head of surgery understandably wouldn’t move theirs, which meant a stand-in assistant was being assigned. Adam’s head was spinning. Something was wrong. He fucking knew it. Adam needed to focus, trying to compartmentalize his thoughts as he scrubbed in. Right now, his patient needed him, though, for the first time, he felt like something else was more important. His parents wouldn’t be able to believe it if he told them. 

The OR was tense. No one spoke outside of the time-out. Olive was a huge part of their surgical team now, and everyone was concerned or confused—maybe both. Adam was too worried even to be angry about how shit the stand-in was. They were shaking. Obviously terrified, he would yell or be annoyed that they didn’t know what they were doing. That was evident when they handed him a retractor instead of forceps. 

It was a basic craniotomy—something Adam could do in his sleep. Even with the hiccups, they worked quickly. The procedure was successful, and the patient was fine. When it was time to close up, his mind was back to Olive. She wasn’t just late. She would have come in the moment she arrived, apologizing. 

“Great job. Thanks, everyone.” His voice was more robotic than he had heard in a long time. Adam froze when he saw Holden waiting for him in the scrub room. 

“Adam,” he said, his smile tight. 

There was ice in his veins. “What happened.” 

“Scrub out, and we can go upstairs. There’s been an accident.” 

There was a pounding in Adam’s head that he hadn’t felt since his days at Harvard. The anxiety he wasn’t in control, that he hadn’t done enough, was closing in. He should have insisted on helping her rather than giving her space. 

“Tell me.” 

“Olive was brought into the ER. Obviously, I recognized her right away and took her case. She’s sedated right now but stable. There was some blunt trauma to her head, which we believe happened when she hit the pavement. From what the paramedics could tell us, it was a fluke incident. 

“There was a shoplifting taking place, and as the perpetrator was running out, they ran straight into Olive from what witnesses said. She was knocked down pretty hard, hence the head trauma. She was in and out of consciousness when the paramedics arrived, so she’s being monitored for a concussion.” 

“Did she gain full consciousness at any point?”

“She did, but we put her under sedation quickly to prevent any further stress. The first thing she said was, ‘I can’t be late.’ We did have to perform a minor laparoscopic surgery to remove her dislodged IUD.” 

Adam nodded, his toes tingling. She was going to feel responsible for missing the surgery. He wouldn’t let her. He also couldn’t bear the idea of her being on the surgery table. “Is she okay?”

“Adam…” Holden sighed, rubbing his forehead. 

“If you’re about to tell me I’m not allowed to go see her because I’m not family or her doctor, you can think again.” 

“It’s not that. I’ll let the nurses yell at you if that’s a problem. How much do you know about Olive?”

“Not much, though I’ve tried. She’ll tell me superficial things, but she’s a vault for anything deeper. She seems to eat her body weight in secrets daily.” 

“Well, that might be the only thing she eats,” Holden muttered. “She’s 5’8”, almost 5’9”, and she’s on the side of underweight. She’s not technically malnourished, but something about all of it is weird.”

“Olive has three jobs and can’t afford a latte from Starbucks,” Adam said, as though that explained everything. He noticed how thin she was the night they met and even more so when he saw her again. It was evident in how loose her scrubs were, the way she had to fasten them as tightly as possible and roll the band down, but it was still loose.  

“Three jobs?” Holden said, eyes widening. 

“Two. Technically, she was fired from one last week. I’ve tried to get her to quit, but she won’t.” 

Holden stared at him. “She must be exhausted.” 

“Tell me about it,” Adam huffed, pressing the close door button in the elevator aggressively. Finally, it started to move. “Anything else I should know?”

“We can’t find a next of kin.” 

Adam frowned, somewhat expecting that. God, was this fucking thing going to stop on every floor and pick up the entire hospital? They had only gone up two floors. 

“She mentioned to me once that she had no family in Canada, where she was born. She didn’t elaborate, and I wasn’t comfortable asking her to. I wasn’t sure how literally I should take it then. I know her mother and grandparents have passed away.” 

“Well, I can tell you now that her employee file has no emergency contact, and we searched high and low for one outside of her file. I’m thinking she means it, no questions asked.” 

Adam hated it. He hated that she was alone and struggling. He also hated how badly he wanted to help and how she wouldn’t allow him to. He wondered how long she had been without a family and if that was why she was so reluctant to accept anything from him. He listened intently to Holden’s assessment of the surgery, which seemed to go off without a hitch. Still, Adam didn’t like it. 

“She’s in here,” Holden said, swinging the door open. 

“Thank you, Holden.” Adam hugged him. A rare occurrence that caught his best friend off guard. Adam hardly ever initiated contact like this.

He was a surgeon. He had to deal with sick people, sometimes dying people, regularly. He mastered the art of removing his emotions from a situation because he had to. Seeing people unconscious on a hospital bed, hooked up to IVs and monitors, was not an unfamiliar sight. But when he saw Olive? It all went away. 

Adam trusted Holden implicitly. He knew Olive had been in good hands and could see for himself that she was stable. That didn’t stop the fear that seeped through his veins. The thought that something had been missed or that the concussion was more severe than they realized. He resisted the urge to order more tests.

X-rays. 

CT scans. 

A full MRI.

Extra bloodwork. 

He didn’t care. He wanted it all done and to know what they were dealing with. Instead, he flipped through her chart, reviewing the history and tests that Holden ordered down in the ER. There was a CT scan, at least. She didn’t have a brain bleed or anything else concerning, which was good. 

But what if one started now? A voice in his head asked. 

“Jesus,” Adam muttered. Was this how his patients felt? He had the facts before him, and he still wasn’t reassured. Nothing would be enough when it came to Olive Smith. 

Fuck. 

The patients. 

Their families. 

He didn’t talk to the family after his craniotomy. 

Adam turned to rush out, pissed off with himself. Today was absolute shit. He hated everything about it. 

“Dr. Carlsen!” A nurse said. She looked familiar, and he frowned, trying to figure out why. 

He snapped his fingers. “Lucy, right? You were at Linda’s party.” 

She smiled, tentative. “Yes. Good to see you again. Are you Olive’s doctor?”

“Olive is my surgical assistant. I wanted to check and see how she was doing.” 

Lucy nodded, understanding. “Can I get you anything?”

“No. Thank you. I have to go speak to one of my patient’s families, but I’ll be back. Can you page Holden Rodrigues and me if anything changes?”

“Of course.” 

“I’m sorry. I have another favor,” he grimaced, patting his pockets. “I don’t have my phone. Do you know Sydney, my scrub nurse?”

“I do. Do you want me to let her know about Olive?”

“Please. She was worried this morning, too.” 

“No problem, Dr. Carlsen. Let me know if you need anything else!”

“Thanks again, Lucy. I appreciate it.” 

Adam left, sighing relief that the encounter was better than the one at the bar. He chastised himself the entire way to the waiting room, in disbelief that he had forgotten about the family. It had only been ten minutes, but that was ten minutes longer than they should have had to worry. That feeling worsened when he saw them whispering anxiously in a corner. 

“Dr. Carlsen!” 

Taking a deep breath, he went into surgeon mode. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Please, take a seat. First things first, the surgery was successful. Pete did great, and he’s being wheeled back to his room now or shortly.” 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

It felt like hours had passed, though Adam knew that wasn’t the case. He only did what was required. He could do his notes and post-op paperwork from Olive’s room on his laptop, and he did, refusing to leave until she woke up. The only consultation he had booked needed to be rescheduled, and every other moment was spent waiting. 

It was nearing twilight, and she was still sleeping. She had come to while he was gone but immediately fell back asleep. The nurses said she likely wouldn’t even remember waking up. Sedation was funny like that. You never knew how long the effects would last because it impacted everyone differently. Adam had a feeling that, in Olive’s case, it was taking longer because her body was worn down and needed time to heal. It was grueling, but he would wait if that’s what she needed. 

Adam was emailing the surgical assistant who would fill in for her tomorrow when Olive finally stirred. Her eyes blinked, slow and bleary, as though her eyelids were too heavy. She held her hand to her throat, coughing, but Adam was already by her side with a cup of ice chips. 

“Here. Have some of these.”

She took the cup, confused. Looking at it and then Adam, then the hospital room, and the IV in her arm. Olive froze, staring at the IV drip. 

“I need to leave,” she croaked. Her heart rate increased, and her breathing shallowed. 

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re fine. I’m sure you’re confused, but—”

“No. I can’t, oh my God.” 

Adam held her wrists down before she could try and remove the IV again. God, he couldn’t think about it. He hated needles but understood the necessity. It didn’t matter that there was only a silicone tube there now. Just thinking about the needle was enough.  

“Are you going to puke?”

“No,” he bit out. “Just stop touching the IV.” 

“I need to leave.” 

“You need to rest. You were injured, and I’m not letting you go until Holden clears you.”

“Please,” she begged, frantic. 

“Look at me,” he commanded. “Ice chips first, and for the love of God, stop touching the IV.” 

She closed her eyes, likely reveling in the cool liquid heading down her throat. Her voice had been dry and scratchy. Olive didn’t fight him again, opting to keep her eyes closed instead. Finally, she could keep her eyes open.

“Why am I here?”

“What do you remember?” He countered, assessing her mental state. He couldn’t help it.

“I was coming to work.” 

“What’s your name?”

Her scowl rivaled his, and he couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t meant to be angry. He went to flash his light in her eyes, but she swatted him away. “Don’t you dare try and evaluate me.” 

“What’s my name?” It was a low trick, but if it meant he’d finally hear the syllables of his name fall from her lips, he’d take it.

“Dr. Carlsen,” she said smugly. 

Damn. 

“How do you feel?”

“Sore. Achy. Annoyed. My neck and abs hurt.” 

He couldn’t argue with that. He’d probably be all of those things, too. “You don’t remember anything else?”

“I remember—” her face paled. Adam immediately looked at the monitor, assessing her stats. “The surgery. I—did I miss the surgery?”

He softened. “It’s okay. We were just worried about you, that’s all. Everyone was.” 

“I can’t believe this. I’ve never missed a surgery, I swear.”

“Olive,” he frowned, “I’m not upset. Your health is more important. You are more important. Speaking of, back to our discussion—what do you remember?”

She shook her head, “Not much. I remember walking toward the hospital, and that’s where it ends. I was passing a corner shop, maybe? I always think I’m only a few minutes away when I pass the shop.”

Adam was appeased. She remembered enough that his anxiety eased slightly since her CT scan was also clear. 

“Someone was shoplifting and collided with you while they were running on the way out. You hit your head on the pavement.” 

“That’s so dumb,” she mumbled. 

“You did end up needing surgery. When they did a scan, they found your IUD was dislodged.” 

“That would explain the cramps,” she sighed. 

“And why you’re sore. It should subside in a few days, but you’ll have some prescriptions to help. 

“When can I leave?”

“I’m not your doctor,” he reminded her. 

“That’s right. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“Nah. I’m where I want to be.” 

“I need them to let me out,” she pressed. 

He suspected the answer was no but wanted it confirmed, “Because of the surgery tomorrow?”

“Amongst other things.” 

“If you’re tired, you’re welcome to sleep here. I won’t wake you.” 

“It’s not that.” 

“Are you hungry?”

Olive ignored him, hitting the button for a nurse instead. She asked if they could please page her doctor so she could be released from the hospital to Adam’s dismay. He let her think she had the upper hand, knowing he would have the final word. 

Chapter Text

Olive had to get out of here. She had phenomenal insurance through the hospital, but she couldn’t afford another bill right now. An ER visit and ambulance ride were going to be bad enough as it was. This was bad luck all around. 

The only good thing to come out of it was not waking up alone. That hadn’t happened since before her mom died, and it was nice. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Olive was grateful Adam was there, comforting her in his broody way.

After several minutes of begging and pleading on her part, Dr. Rodrigues approved the release of Olive. All the while, Adam didn’t leave the room other than to collect his belongings from his office. When she was changed and collected her things, she moved to thank him again, but Adam was standing behind her, donning his jacket. 

“You ready?”

“For…?”

“To go?” He asked, one brow raised. 

Olive nodded, confused. He was only going to walk out with her, right? 

“Sit,” he ordered, grabbing a wheelchair.

“No. Absolutely—”

“It’s protocol,” he pointed out. “You had surgery, Olive. That’s no small thing.” 

Holden nodded, trying to hide his smile. “He’s not wrong, Olive.” 

“I’m doing this for Holden,” she snapped. 

Adam’s lips twitched, and Holden bid them a good night. They were quiet on the elevator ride down to the first floor. He agreed to leave the wheelchair at the ground floor exit. Olive was ready to make a run for it. Adam moved to the right while Olive turned left, bidding him a good night.

“Where are you going?”

“To the front door over here?”

He scowled. “Do you honestly believe I’m not driving you home? If you don’t let me do that at a minimum, then you’re staying with me. You had a concussion, Olive—head trauma. And surgery. Technically, you should be watched throughout the night or up to 24 hours. Do you have a roommate?”

Olive gaped back at him. His commanding demeanor was so conflicting for her. She loved and hated it. If she were being honest, she was sore, overwhelmed, and a touch scared. Today had been a whirlwind, and not in a good way. “I can get home on my own, thank you.” 

“Don’t test me,” he warned. 

“You can’t drive me home! Plus, aren’t concussion victims supposed to avoid stress?” 

He couldn’t. He really couldn’t. If he knew she lived in Mattapan, she would never live it down. More than that, he’d go full Dr. Carlsen if she saw how sparse her rental was. 

“Yes. Which is why I’m not letting you walk home.”

Olive snorted, previously thinking this couldn’t get any worse. “I don’t walk here.” 

He eyed her. “Do you drive? That’s not safe either. You’ve had a cocktail of drugs, and the anesthesia is—”

“I take this fancy thing called public transportation. It’s what poor people use.” 

Adam closed his eyes, rolling his jaw. “I’m driving you home. You need to be monitored.” 

“Please, don’t do this.” 

“My car, Olive. Now.” He gently grabbed her hand, leading Olive toward the parking garage exit. She hated how warm and comforting his skin was against hers and how their fingers interlocked perfectly. He was the most frustrating man she had ever met. 

“You know, it’s not surprising you don’t have a girlfriend,” she snapped.

“Oh?”

“Has anyone ever told you how overbearing you can be?”

“You know, most people would probably thank the person trying to help them after a concussion and surgery. It’s almost like I want to know you’re safe,” he said dryly. 

“I’m not yours to be concerned about!”

“I thought we covered at the bar, that you are my concern. This is my car.” 

“Of course, you have a Prius and a reserved parking spot.”  

“I’m the head of neurosurgery,” he quipped, holding her door open and helping her remain steady. “Get in.” 

“Such a gentleman,” she grumbled. 

He was in the driver’s seat in an instant, turned the key, and looked at her expectantly. Olive couldn’t bring herself to tell him. She was too tired to deal with the fallout, but the longer she was silent, the more comfortable he seemed. It reminded her of her teachers who would stand in front of a noisy classroom with a look that plainly spoke, ‘I’ll wait.’ Sighing, Olive finally relented. 

“It’s not close to here.” 

“Address.” 

“Dr. Carlsen—”

“Address, Olive.” 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak?” 

“Yes. What’s your address.” 

She rattled it off, dread setting in as he typed it into the GPS. Adam stared at it while she watched him, biting her bottom lip. She would rub her skin raw if she wrung her hands anymore. Olive did and didn’t want him to say something, but which did she want more? 

“This is in Mattapan.” 

Didn’t. That definitely won out. 

“It sure is,” she chirped. “You can drop me off at the station instead. I’m sure you’re tired, and you—”

“This is in Mattapan, Olive.” 

“Right. I thought we established that already.” 

Adam remained silent, driving away from the parking garage. He angrily stabbed her seat warmer button and grabbed a chocolate protein bar from his glove box, ordering her to eat it. There was a water bottle in her cup holder a moment later. She knew the conversation wasn’t over, but she’d avoid it as long as possible. After fifteen minutes, she ventured into what she hoped was neutral territory.

“You don’t like chocolate.” 

“I have to get you to eat somehow, don’t I? It’s nutrition disguised as sweets. Perfect for you. You need to eat things that are easy to digest for the next few days. We’ll stop and pick up your prescriptions later.”

Olive blushed, glad it was nightfall. “Are we still scheduled for the carotid angioplasty tomorrow?”

“No,” he snapped. “You need to rest. No lifting anything over ten pounds for the next few—” 

“You’re basically kicking me off your service,” she scowled. 

“Hardly.” 

“Are you mad at me?”

“I’m mad, but not at you,” he clarified. 

“Yipee,” she yawned. It was getting dark, and the seat was very warm. Nice. Comfortable. She could sleep in it happily. 

“Are you comfortable? Warm enough?”

“Yes. Thank you.” It struck her again how much he was doing for her for no apparent reason. Olive offered him a tiny bit of truth to reciprocate. “And thank you for not letting me wake up alone.” 

“It’s my pleasure, Olive.” 

Silence blanketed them again, but her anxiety was coming back. They were almost at her house. Several emotions were coursing through her. 

Embarassed, not wanting him to see. 

Worried about his reaction. 

Glad she wasn’t alone. 

When they pulled up to her curb, Adam shut off the engine. It was now or never. She only had one chance to convince him to stay in the Prius. 

“Thanks again for today and the ride. I’ll let you know how I’m feeling in the morning, and—”

He ignored her, hopping out of his car. Olive scrambled after him. 

“What are you doing?”

“Coming inside.” 

“Why?”

“Let’s not pretend that wasn’t always the plan. You know it, and I know it.” 

“I don’t have a spare room. You can’t stay here.” 

“Neither are you,” he glared. 

“Oh no. You are not going all caveman on me. This is where I live, and that’s final,” she stabbed him in the chest with her pointer finger for good measure. She wobbled on impact, weak from everything that had happened today.

“Open the door, Olive,” he snapped, holding her steady. He was so considerate. And annoying.  

“Did you have any broccoli this afternoon? You’re extra grumpy. Or did someone put sugar in your coffee?”

He tilted her chin up to meet his eyes, his touch featherlight. The antithesis compared to the menacing look in his eyes. “Door. Open. Then we’re going home.” 

“Please don’t make me do this.” 

“What’s inside that you don’t want me to see? I’ll give you two minutes to put whatever it is away, but you’re not staying here.” 

“You know what? Fine. You can come in, but only because I’m not going to shout at you on my doorstep for the neighborhood to hear.” 

“Fine by me.” 

She opened the door, leaving the lights off, swinging around to point her finger at him before stabbing it into his chest again. It didn’t do much the first time, but it gave Olive the illusion of control. Her voice hurt, but she tried to sound as menacing as she could. “You are so out of touch. Where exactly am I going to go? I’m living here because this is where I could afford in Boston. I’m not living here because I’m bored or want to be far from the hospital.” 

“It’s reckless. Irresponsible. You have to be bone tired at this point, having consistently worked three jobs and living an hour away from two of them. You can’t go home when you’re on-call, which means you’re probably getting even less rest as it is. I know how shitty the on-call rooms are if you can even find an available one. On top of that, do we even need to discuss the fact you’re living in one of the most dangerous areas of Boston?”

“Do we need to discuss the fact I’m not a swanky, rich millionaire who only drinks black coffee?! I bet you own a vacation home in Cape Cod when you don’t feel like being in your townhouse. You probably don’t even remember what it’s like to—what are you doing?”

He looked around and headed toward what was clearly her room. There was only one other door, after all. Olive got there first, standing in front of the threshold. 

“We’re packing. And why is it fucking freezing in here? Is this how you’ve been—” 

“There is no we, you stubborn, unbelievable—”

Adam gingerly picked her up, setting Olive on the lonely chair in her living room.

“Sit. Rest.” 

She didn’t. She stood and followed him. Olive wanted to scream when he opened the door. He grabbed her suitcases from the corner, laying them open on the floor. 

“Don’t touch my clothes.” 

“Then you pack, but only one or two things at a time. And don’t lift the suitcase when it’s full. You’re not supposed to lift more than—is that an air mattress?”

“Oh. My. God. I am not your business! Get that through your—”

“Let’s make something clear, Olive. I am not, under any circumstance, leaving you here. You’re moving out. End of story.” 

“Great. Are you going to make my dreams of living in a homeless shelter finally come true? I’ve avoided it successfully since I was sixteen, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, opening her closet. “You’re going to come home to live with me before you give me an aneurysm from stress. It will be the first of its kind.” 

The laugh that erupted from Olive’s mouth was deranged. Not her own. “You’ve lost your mind.” 

“Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not, here’s the truth: I care about you, Olive. I have ever since we met. Before I even knew who you were. I regretted not asking for a way to contact you and even contemplated going to every gala your company catered in hopes of seeing you again. I know you want this to be about work and nothing else, but it’s not for me.

“I will never put you in an uncomfortable position, but I cannot leave you here. I can’t do it. Please understand that. I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re living out here. I need you safe, and warm, and happy on a normal bed, not an hour’s commute away.” 

Olive listened to his speech, enraptured. Her brain was focused on ‘I care about you, Olive.’ She flushed, looking away. Adam sighed, running his hands through his hair. 

“I know I’m being a lot, and I’m sorry. But can’t you see my side? I know you’re not used to accepting help, and you said you have no family. I don’t know all your secrets, though I wish you’d tell me. I want to help you, Olive. However I can. Please, let me do this. You can even stay at my place, and I’ll go somewhere else if the thought of being near me makes you uncomfortable. Anything you want, other than making me leave you here.”

“I can’t break my lease at the drop of a hat.” 

“Let me talk to your landlord.” 

Olive was so angry tears were pricking her eyes. He was being kind, even though he was overbearing. It was so tempting to accept his help, but it felt wrong. 

“You’re basically my boss.” 

“I’m not. If we were to go to HR right now and tell them the most extreme scenario, which is that we were married, there would be no issue. I am not responsible for your payroll or promotions. We operate together—that’s it.” 

“You’ll leave. Everyone leaves because that’s how life works. And then I’ll be left with a mess to try and clean again, and I can’t do that. Not again.” 

“I don’t know everything about your past and how much you went through when your Mom died. I wish I could take that back, Sweetheart. I will gladly listen if you want to tell me about it, but I can assure you I’m not here to leave.” 

Adam had always been a straight shooter with Olive, and this was no different. It was as though they were having a normal discussion in the OR, deciding which instrument would be best. 

“I can’t cope with someone leaving again. Being alone after relying on someone again,” she reiterated. It felt vital to her that he understood that. He had already said too many things that meant a lot to Olive tonight, which was difficult for her. 

“I understand,” he said earnestly. He seemed to mean it. 

She was trembling, too emotional to speak. He was standing there, like an angry fairy godfather, asking to make some of her wishes come true. He was right about all of it. 

She didn’t want to be living here.

She hated having an hour’s commute. 

She was constantly exhausted. Even more so today. 

She did have several secrets that weighed on her daily. 

She wasn’t used to accepting help. 

Adam stepped forward, hesitant, bending to meet her eyes. “Please?”

“How would it work?”

“Let me talk to your landlord while you pack, and we’ll go from there. The rest is semantics.”

Olive hesitated before handing him his phone. “His name is Cheeseburger.” 

Adam quirked a brow. She shrugged.

“It’s his street name. I think he said his last name was MacDonald, but everyone calls him Cheeseburger.” 

“Your landlord has a street name?” Adam asked warily, likely putting together her landlord’s job may not be above board. 

“I think it’s possible he’s involved in extracurriculars, yes. He’s nice, though. I promise.” 

Adam shut his eyes and counted to ten before walking out the door. She wasn’t sure how long he was gone, but it didn’t take much time to pack. She barely owned anything. The hospital provided surgical scrubs to ensure sanitation, and her clothes selection was minimal. Knick-knacks and sentimental items were a luxury she didn’t have. 

She cleaned her bedroom and bathroom before clearing out the kitchen. There wasn’t much to throw away, and the microwave was in the apartment when she moved in. Olive was tying the trash bag when Adam walked toward her. 

“Good to go. He said you can leave anything you don’t want.” 

“He’s not upset?”

“Nah. Consider your lease over. How can I help?” 

“I need to throw this out, and then I think I’m done.” 

He nodded, his eyes softening when he saw the singular suitcase and weekend bag. She could tell it bothered him how little she had. Adam tossed the bag into the trash bin before heading back toward her. They did a once over, ensuring she had all her things before turning the lights off. The keys were left in the mailbox, and they were driving away by the time an hour had passed. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. It was so quiet that Olive wasn’t sure she imagined it. All she knew as they drove back toward Beacon Hill was that she was relieved. 

Chapter Text

A soothing scent whirled in the air. Olive wasn’t sure what it was, but it was lovely, convincing her to burrow deeper into the covers. 

Covers. 

Duvet. 

Adam. 

The events of last night were coming back quicker than a flood. Everything he did to help her. The accident and throbbing in her head. Missing the surgery and leaving Mattapan for good. The way her body ached from her surgery. The way Adam ordered her favorite sushi and soup again, not even bothering to ask, just taking control of the situation the way he always did. 

It was clear to her now that he struggled with control and lack thereof. He wanted to ensure everyone he cared for was safe and happy, even if it meant commanding a situation. Adam did it quietly, never accepting recognition. It was more for himself. Helping others, patients, and his loved ones seemed to ease something inside him. 

And now, apparently, Olive was one of those people. She would feel like a basket case if he hadn’t explicitly stated she wasn’t. 

I care about you, Olive.

God. When was the last time someone cared about her like this? She would have never known if he hadn’t forced his way into her life. That warning from the night they met was still in the back of her mind—the dangerous alert to stay away. She couldn’t bring herself to care about danger or warnings right now. She was too comfortable, sinking into the mattress, yet her mind was a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Maybe…

Nope. She couldn’t do it.

Danger and warnings were nothing compared to the comfort of this bed. A bleary eye told her it was 12:27 PM, extremely late by her standards. Olive took her time showering. It felt good to wash away yesterday, but also the past year. There was something soothing about sudsing up and seeing the bubbles flow down the drain with the traces of iodine. It was a fresh start in more ways than one, and the warmth was lovely. She padded down to the kitchen when she felt sufficiently prepped and pampered. There was a note from Adam on the counter.

Help yourself to whatever you need, and make yourself at home. Call me if you need anything. Remember, no lifting anything over ten pounds, and don’t pick at the steri-strips. If they fall off on their own, that’s okay. Your shoulder and abs are likely going to be sore due to the gas used to inflate your abdomen. Your meds are next to this note. Take what you feel is necessary, but let me know if you take oxy for pain. I’ll come home. 

- A

Next to it was a bottle of pumpkin spice creamer and her medications laid out with detailed sticky notes. Getting emotional over coffee creamer felt silly, but the gesture was touching. He had to have bought it before his surgery, specifically for her. It was unopened, and she knew he liked his coffee black. There was also a pre-made breakfast for her in the fridge that only needed to be heated. 

Olive savored every sip of the Columbian blend, thinking of the way he cared for her last night. The car ride back may have been quiet, but once they were here, they argued for a half-hour over her being monitored during the night until they finally came to a compromise. 

“It’s standard concussion protocol. You can sleep in the spare room, but I need to come in and check you’re okay every hour. Not to mention your surgery. I need to know you’re okay, Olive.” 

“That’s dramatic, and you need to sleep. You have surgery in the morning and shouldn’t be getting up every hour when we both know I’m perfectly fine. I’m just tired, that’s all.” 

“What would you propose? I’m not budging on this.” 

“You need rest,” she said again. 

“Then you sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor. I won’t need to walk the twenty feet to the spare bedroom.” 

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” Olive said, exasperated. 

“Olive.” 

“Dr. Carlsen.” 

He glared at her. She glared back. Sadly, he was better at this game than she was, making Olive burst out in laughter. 

“This is ridiculous. We’re adults. May I sleep in your bed with you?”

“You trust me enough to do that?” Adam flushed. 

“I do. I can’t think of any other compromise. Then you can roll over, look at me, see I’m alive, and go back to sleep.” 

Adam kept to his promise, checking on Olive throughout the night. She teased him each time she woke, though he tried not to, telling him she was alive. When his alarm went off for work, Olive woke as well. They were in the middle of the bed, her back flush to his front. They both apologized, blushing, but secretly, Olive didn’t mind. It was a foreign feeling, albeit a nice one. Everything about him made her feel safe and cared for. 

She wanted to do something nice for him and started poking around the cupboards and fridge. He was a health nut, that was for sure. She made a mental note to buy him junk food. 

     Olive: What time will you be home?

Pressing send, she frowned. Should she have said home? Was that inappropriate?

     Adam: Around 5 PM. Hopefully sooner. Are you okay? Do you need oxy? I’ll come home now. Someone else can cover for me.

     Olive: Yes, I’m fine. No painkillers are needed. Am I not allowed to check on my knight in black scrubs?

     Adam: Should I be concerned about your concussion?

     Olive: No, sir. I’ll see you in a few hours. 

Olive spent the afternoon in the kitchen, and it was cathartic. She loved cooking but couldn’t afford ingredients and didn’t have the time or money when she lived in Mattapan. Adam had various types of fish and decided to make a tilapia dish. 

She started with a roasted mushroom and garlic quinoa, taking her time chopping the ingredients so they were uniform. There was some asparagus in the fridge, which she decided to roast later as a side. For now, she washed and prepped them before setting them aside. 

The tilapia was beautiful and delicate. Olive was careful as she prepped it to be baked, using lemon, garlic, a local seafood seasoning blend, salt and pepper. Ensuring this dinner was cooked perfectly felt important to her. After all he had done to help her, it was the least she could do. She pulled the filets and asparagus out of the oven just as keys jingled in the door.  

“Olive?”

“I’m in the kitchen!” she called. 

“What’s that smell?”

“I’m burning your house down,” she beamed. 

“Apparently the smell of burnt house is appealing. Who would have known? Your voice sounds better today. How’s the soreness? And your stitches? Are they okay? Have you had any nausea? I could—”

“I’m fine, Dr. Carlsen,” Olive said, placing her finger on his lips to shush him. “I wanted to make you dinner as a thank you.” 

“You didn’t need to do that,” he blushed. 

“Too late. It’s a mushroom garlic quinoa with baked tilapia and asparagus.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You go freshen up or do whatever you usually do when you get home. I’ll plate these.” 

Adam did as he was told while Olive sprinkled on a parsley garnish. He looked fresh as a daisy when he popped back down the stairs. 

“How was surgery today?”

“Uneventful, though I can’t say the same about the ER. Though it was more of a psych consult than neuro. I hope they’ll get help, but you never know. Thanks for this,” he said, sitting down. 

“When am I allowed to work again? I should warn you that your answer will impact if I ever make you dinner again,” she teased. 

“The jury is still out,” he grinned. “The team misses you already. They were happy to hear you’re doing okay.” 

“I’m more than okay,” she glared. 

“You’re allowed to rest,” he countered. “More than that, you should. I’d be shocked if you weren’t sore. You’ll need at least one, maybe two weeks off since our job is so demanding. Did you sleep okay?”

“I didn’t get up until almost one in the afternoon,” she admitted. “Your bed is amazing.” 

“Good.” 

He seemed quietly pleased at the domestic scene unfolding before them, but maybe Olive was projecting. Adam told her more about the cases he had from today and promised she wasn’t missing any surgeries tomorrow. They did the dishes together while debating what they should do tonight to unwind. 

“What do you usually do?”

“I work,” he said again.

“You don’t do anything mindless for fun? No random TV, ever?”

“Maybe you can introduce me to it.” 

“Docuseries, Love Island, Hoarders, The First 48, Bake Off…nothing at all?”

“No bells are ringing. Do I want to know what Love Island is?”

“It’s my favorite shit reality TV show ever. The British version has always been the shit, but the US version is getting better now.” 

“What’s Bake Off?”

“A very wholesome baking show with a woman I would love to be my grandmother.” 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

“This is not going well for her,” Adam grimaced. “How has it gone so wrong?” 

“Poor Claire. She’s on the struggle bus. Do you like baking?”

“I’ve never really tried. Do you?”

Olive nodded. “Bread and pastries are my favorite.” 

“Want to try?”

“How about this weekend? We can pick one out. It’ll be fun.” 

Adam smiled, reclining further into the sofa. Olive was at his side, leaning toward him instinctively. 

“Who do you think is going home?”

Adam’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. “Claire. This is too disastrous to recover from.” 

“Who do you think is going to win?”

“Mmm. It could be too soon to tell, but my odds are on Nancy since she knows a bunch of tricks. Or Richard. He seems solid for some reason. Or maybe I feel like I could get a beer with him. I’m not sure.” 

“So…TV isn’t too bad?”

“So far, no. This is the nicest evening I’ve had in a while.”

“Me too,” she blushed. 

They relaxed on the couch, binge-watching the show. Adam asked a lot of questions and seemed to enjoy it more than Olive had anticipated. He was good at guessing who would leave and become star baker. It was hard for Olive not to let her imagination run away, seeing them doing this night in and out. 

“Oh my God,” he said, horrified, covering his mouth. Iain’s Baked Alaska was a little more than a puddle, spilling across the workbench. 

“A moment of silence is needed,” Olive agreed, breaking a piece of Cadbury dairy milk off. 

“This is horrific.”

“I’ve never had Baked Alaska.”

“Nor I.” 

“Do you like any sweet things?”

“I’m not sure. It depends. This has made me curious about broadening my horizons. Some of the flavor combinations sound fascinating.” 

“Let’s start with bread or cookies and go from there.” 

“Iain has grown so much since the first week,” Adam sighed. The strands of his hair looked soft and fluffy. Olive wished she could feel it for herself. “He’s going home, isn’t he?”

Olive chuckled, miming zipping her lips. Adam huffed, crossing his arms, feigning annoyance. She opened a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and it was impossible not to notice the way he perked up.

“Have I finally found the Dr. Carlsen’s weakness?”

“They are delicious,” he admitted. 

“I’m glad you like some junk food. It makes you more well-rounded,” she teased. 

“And you like healthy food,” he pressed. “Admit it.” 

“It’s growing on me. Thanks, by the way.” 

“What for?”

“The pumpkin spice creamer. I know you weren’t drinking that in your coffee.” 

“Ah,” he flushed. “I wanted you to feel comfortable and enjoy your coffee. I couldn’t make you a latte, so it was the best I could do.” 

“That was really sweet of you. I appreciate it.” 

“Thank you again for dinner. No one has ever done that for me before.” 

“Cooked for you?”

“Yeah. I mean, growing up, sure.”

“That’s not the same though. I get it. Did you cook with your parents?”

“Nah. They were busy, so I was alone most of my childhood.” 

“Were you a happy child?”

“I was as happy as I could be. Happier once I met Holden.” 

“You two have been friends for a long time, then?”

“Since we were children.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Olive said softly. 

Adam was quiet for a moment, looking at her tenderly. “You think so?”

“I know so. Look at everything you’ve done for me.” 

“I haven’t done that much.” 

“That’s true. You’ve basically abducted me,” she joked, poking his ribs.

“See?” he grinned. 

“What did you say to Cheeseburger, anyway?”

“I explained the situation. That’s all.” 

“Nothing else? Landlords don’t typically let tenants break a lease early with no ramifications.” 

“Nah. He liked you and wanted to do you a favor.” 

“If you’re lying, will you tell me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Sometimes I can’t believe we met on that balcony. It feels like ages ago.” 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“Did you enjoy the rest of the night?”

“Nah. It was all downhill.” 

“I won’t be cramping your style, living here? There’s no Stepford wife that I’d be upsetting?”

“God, no.”

“Your mom must be devastated.” 

“Perhaps I should tell her a vivacious brunette is living with me to aid her recovery.” 

“You can’t do that! She’ll love me, and then you’d break her heart when she finds out I’m broke and not dating you. She’ll probably think I’m a leech.” 

“You’re right. She would love you.” 

“Have your parents liked your past partners? Not that I’m your girlfriend, but I always imagined it would be daunting to bring someone home to meet the parents.” 

“I’ve never really dated,” Adam frowned. “Holden is the only person I’ve brought home.” 

“Never?”

He shook his head, looking at her bashfully. “I get that’s not normal, being my age.” 

“There’s nothing to be embarassed about. I totally get it. I haven’t dated either, and I don’t love easily. It’s…hard for me to be close to people. Maybe part of it is never knowing if my mom would like that person or approve of my life choices. If it worked out and that person and I got married, she wouldn’t be there. Things like that. Realistically, I know she would just want me to be happy.” 

“I wish I could take away what happened to you.” 

“A true dragon slayer,” she grinned. “I’m much better about things now. It’s odd having friends again, but it’s nice.” 

“I’m glad we met,” he said quietly. Olive couldn’t help but smile and promise she was glad also as she laid back on the couch. There was only an inch separating them, but it felt like a mile. She reveled in his company, wondering idly how she could bridge the gap. Would her mom like him?

Adam seemed like one of the most genuine people she had met, and it was hard not to blur the lines. Her heart wanted more than her brain would allow. Maybe one day, she thought as her eyes drooped lower, she wouldn’t be so scared by the idea. 

Chapter Text

“This is…weird,” Anh said. “I’ll be the one to say it.” 

“His house is something else, though,” Jeremy said, whistling long and low. 

“I thought it was a joke, Kalamata.” 

“It’s a long story,” she shrugged, grabbing another cookie. “He’s doing me a favor by letting me stay with him.” 

Sort of, barring the point that he’s the reason she lost her lodging in the first place. Anh was queueing up the show when the man of the hour walked in. Olive’s heart fluttered. He was more casual than the others had ever seen him before, wearing a black T-shirt and matching sweatpants. They tried not to gawk but failed. Olive had become accustomed to casual Adam over the past several days and enjoyed the sight. 

“I wanted to make sure you guys didn’t need anything and the TV was working,” Adam clarified. He leaned against the door frame, waiting expectantly. 

“I think we’re all good. Thanks, Adam,” Anh said. 

“No problem. Let me know if that changes. I’ll be upstairs.” 

“You’re welcome to join us,” Malcolm said. 

Adam bit the inside of his cheek, eyeing Olive. His features softened when she gave him a small smile. 

“Knock, knock!” Holden shouted from the front door. “I came bearing food. Adam said it was a full house.” 

The smells of delicious curry filled their space. Adam helped Holden organize boxes, leaving only to get plates and utensils. 

“Olive, how’s the head? And your stitches?”

“Better. Thanks.” 

“And you’re resting? Drinking plenty of water? No heavy lifting?” Holden asked, sternly. 

“Yes, Dr. Rodrigues,” she grinned. 

“Good. I hate unruly patients. Besides, Adam probably has you under lock and key.” 

“I do not,” Adam grumbled. 

“This house is a prison,” Olive agreed solemnly. “Albeit a comfortable one.” 

“Your shack was a prison,” Adam quipped. 

“Were you really living in Mattapan, Ol?” Anh asked. 

“Yeah. It was the only place I could find when I moved here.” 

“How long are you going to stay here?” Jeremy asked.

“Until Dr. Carlsen deems my head trauma cured,” Olive teased. 

“As long as she needs,” Adam corrected, watching her amusedly. Olive loved being here, and she was sure Adam knew. Her head was fine, but Adam insisted she take time off to rest. Rest, she did. She felt like she was coming up for air for the first time in years. 

“I will wait for your call, Adam. I have to sign off on Olive’s paperwork, anyway. Okay. We have a spread, so dig in. Hopefully, we got everyone’s favorite.”

“And what do we have, Holden?” Adam asked. “It seems like one of everything on the menu.” 

“I thought you’d never ask. Thank you, Adam. For you, we have raw vegetables.”  

Adam snorted, rolling his eyes. 

“For everyone else, there are onion bhaji, samosas, korma, plenty of naan, tandoori chicken, biryani, pilau rice, vindaloo, chicken tikka masala, chicken makhani…” 

The list went on as the aroma filled the room. Everyone gave their thanks, but Holden wouldn’t accept, saying the pleasure was all his. Olive noticed the way he watched Malcolm more than once, as though hoping for approval. Maybe more. 

Adam stayed close to Olive, and a thrill ran down her spine. She knew she had already thought it a million times, not daring to speak it out loud, but being cared about was…nice. It was hard to admit, but the truth was in the air. Adam’s house had plenty of open space, and everyone was comfortable. He didn’t have to be near her, but it was clear he wanted to be. He kept sneaking food onto Olive’s plate until she insisted she couldn’t eat another bite, pinching the fleshiest part of his bicep she could find. 

It was oddly relaxing listening to everyone regale stories from work and otherwise. Olive couldn’t remember the last time she hung out with friends. They all started to help gather the dishes, but Adam wouldn’t hear of it, insisting they relax. 

“You’re an old man. You shouldn’t do this on your own,” Olive pointed out.

“And you’re injured. Your recovery period isn’t over yet.” 

“We’re quite the pair,” she chuckled. 

“I’ll help. Kalamata, you sit,” Malcolm ordered. 

“Finally, some logic in this house. Thank you, Malcolm,” Adam smirked, clearly happy to have gotten his way. Olive feigned annoyance, but there was nothing to it. She grabbed her new favorite blanket and went to her spot on the couch. She wasn’t sure where Adam would sit since there was an open spot next to Holden, but part of her hoped it would be next to her. After days of living in close proximity to Adam, it was hard to ignore the way her heart fluttered. 

“Sorry. We didn’t mean to take so long,” Adam said.

“We came bearing dessert as a peace offering,” Malcolm said with a wide grin. He sat confidently next to Holden, who looked surprised but quietly pleased. 

Adam placed a tea and an oversized hoodie down for Olive before faltering at the light switch.

“Everyone okay with the lights off? Is it too dark?”

“No!” Anh said. “It’ll make us focus on the hoard. Turn them off, please.” 

“Noted,” Adam said, chuckling, making his way back. “May I sit next to you?” 

“Please. Is that Good Earth?”

“It’s decaf and for you. As is this,” he said, pushing Cadbury chocolate toward her. 

“You didn’t,” she groaned.

“I did. Although, I recall you saying you couldn’t eat another bite.” 

“Chocolate doesn’t count,” she grinned. 

“Is this about literal hoarders, or—oh, shit,” Jeremy said, opening some sour patch kids. 

“It’s my comfort show,” Anh admitted. “I love watching everything get transformed.” 

“Your lip is visibly curling,” Olive snickered.

“The urge to clean is very real,” Adam twitched. “Though, I’m sympathetic to the fact it’s a mental illness. I can’t imagine how difficult that must be for them and the families.” 

Holden began telling a story about a recent patient in the ER. They had to be dug out of a hoarded house, which was ultimately condemned. Olive was only half listening. The other half of her was trying to give herself a mental pep talk. She had been living with Adam for almost two weeks now, and it was difficult not to acknowledge her feelings. Finally, she decided to be bold, splaying her blanket over Adam’s legs. He startled but relaxed further into the couch, angling his body toward hers. 

“Did you say something to Malcolm in the kitchen?” Olive asked, her voice low enough so only he could hear. 

“Maybe,” he flushed. “I gave him information I thought would be useful.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Could that information be about a certain best friend of yours?”

“Perhaps,” he grinned. “Holden really likes Malcolm, but he won’t ask. He’s too concerned about being the attending and making it uncomfortable for him at work if he declines.”  

“Something tells me he won’t.” 

“They’ve been circling each other for ages. I want them to be happy. Holden has had the worst luck with boyfriends, but Malcolm seems like a good guy.”

“A real-life cupid.” 

Adam huffed, shaking his head. “Nah.”

“May I steal that hoodie?”

“I brought it for you. It’s probably too big.” 

It was entirely too large, and Olive drowned in the fabric. She loved it and told Adam so. “It smells like you.” 

“Is that a good thing?” he asked, slightly dazed. 

“I like your cologne and soap,” she admitted. “It’s very you.” 

Adam’s cheeks were pink, looking down at her. “Are you comfortable?”

“Mhmm. Are you?”

He nodded, putting his arm around the back of her cushion. They grew quiet, chiming in with their friends about the episode. Everyone agreed that Matt, Cory, Dr. Zasio, and Dorothy were the best. As the time went on, Olive grew warm and drowsy, having drunk her tea and being engulfed by all things Adam. His hoodie was toasty, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off the man himself. 

Their legs were tangled under the blanket, and Olive found herself nestling further and further into him. He was a drug, and she wanted more. Not that Adam seemed to mind. He had his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. The steady drum of his heart lulled her into a sense of calm, warmth pooling in her belly. 

Now and again, Adam would dip his head forward, nuzzling his nose in Olive’s hair like he couldn’t help it. A thrill ran through her each time he did. Emboldened by the cloak of darkness, Olive scooted further into him, gently trailing her fingers along his. She continued her ministrations until Adam could no longer stand it, entwining their hands. 

His head bent forward, leaning against hers. Olive could feel his hot breath prickling her neck, invading her senses. She squeezed his hand, lips parting. It was the most sensual thing to happen to her. She was on high alert, her heart pounding. The idea of anything physical with him was hazy since she had never enjoyed it. But with Adam, she knew it would be different. 

“Olive, I—”

Just then, all their beepers started making various noises, effectively cutting Adam off. The molten in his eyes transformed into sharp focus, but he never let go of Olive. If anything, he held her tighter.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. 

“Emergency,” Holden said grimly. “All hands on deck.” 

Adam pressed buttons on the remote until he found the news channel. It was broadcasting an accident where a bus drove into one of the commuter rail lines, forcing it off the tracks and causing multiple deaths and injuries. 

“Oh my God,” Anh breathed. “That looks horrible.” 

“It’s going to be a long night,” Jeremy grimaced. 

“I can come too,” Olive said, looking between Holden and Adam. The former seemed quietly pleased, looking at the two of them. Adam still had an iron grip on Olive, keeping her in place. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” Adam frowned, lowering his voice. “I know you’re fine, but it’s okay if you still need a break. It’s possible your stitches haven’t fully dissolved either. Your two-week recovery period is technically tomorrow.” 

“No. I want to be with you. I won’t lift anything heavy, I promise. Please?”

Adam’s eyes softened, turning back into the beautiful liquid color that reminded her of melted gold and happy memories. His eyes were one of her favorite features. She could never get enough of how expressive they were. 

He nodded, giving her the smile that was for Olive and no one else. “Thank you.” 

She squeezed his hand again before letting go and moving to stand. The loss of his warmth was immediate. Malcolm watched her with a dopey grin and a look that plainly spoke they would be talking about this later. 

They leave as a group, giving their thanks to Adam and Holden again, even though the night was cut short. Adam’s house wasn’t a long walk to the hospital, but it was long enough that the cold night air made them alert and ready by the time they arrived. They grabbed their scrubs and went their separate ways. 

“Meet me in the ER in five?” Adam asked her.

“What are you, ninety? I’ll be down there in three,” she grinned. Adam chuckled, shaking his head and walking away. Olive wasn’t sure what tonight meant for them, but she was pleased all the same. 

“You never told me you and Carlsen were finally a thing!” Malcolm hissed. “Kalamata. We are best friends for life. Soul-siblings. How could you leave out information like that?”

“Technically, we’re not.”

“Puh-lease. I saw the way you two were this evening. If you’re really not, he wants to be. That man is in love with you, mark my words.” 

“And what about you and Holden?” she grinned, bumping him playfully. 

“Did he tell you?”

“Adam?”

Malcolm nodded. 

“He did. He said he wants you both to be happy, but what you do with the information is up to you, of course.” 

“I already asked, and Holden said yes.” 

Olive squealed, clapping. “I’m so happy for you!” 

“I’m grateful Adam told me. I never thought about Holden being anxious because he’s an attending. Once he said it, it made so much sense. I don’t know how I never thought of that.” 

“It sounds like he was just trying to be respectful of power dynamics,” Olive agreed. 

“We’re going to have to think of a good first date.” 

“I’ll help however I can,” she promised. 

“You ready?”

“I hope so. How bad do you think it’s going to be?” Olive wondered. 

Bad. It was…chaos, actually. Olive had never seen the ER so frantic or full. Holden and Adam were behind them and gave each other a grim look. Being the leaders they were, they took charge of assigning people stations, updating the boards, and giving strict orders to follow to make this as smooth as possible. But not before Adam trailed his fingers along Olive’s back before squeezing her hip, lighting her body like a Christmas tree. 

She stayed close to Adam, helping him assess anyone with head trauma, ordering scans, going over family history, and treating whatever came their way. They were efficient together, working as a team. They inherently knew what the other was thinking without having to speak. It was a connection Olive had never experienced before. Not even with her mother. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked as they changed gloves, moving to their fourth patient. 

“Yes. Are you?”

“Mmm. The jury is still out. I think I enjoyed what we were doing prior to this more,” he grinned. 

“Oh?” Butterflies erupted in her belly, invading her brain. 

“Hoarders may be my new favorite show,” he said seriously. 

Olive gave him her meanest scowl. “See if I ever let you sit with me again.” 

“Perhaps I’ll have to hold my hoodie ransom.” 

“Too late. I’ve written you off. Maybe I’ll call Dr. Benton. He seemed interested in having me on his service. Maybe he’ll appreciate me.” 

Pain was all she could discern from his face. Was that a step too far? It must have been. Adam flushed, looking away. Olive jolted forward, touching his forearm.

“I was just kidding, I swear. I love being with you—um…on your service, I mean. I didn’t mean to cross a line. I’m sorry.” 

“If you ever wanted to leave neuro, I would support you,” he said slowly, cheekbones still pink. “I don’t want you to feel forced into staying.”

Olive gripped his hand, willing him to understand. “I don’t. I’ve never been happier than I am when I’m with you. Inside the OR and out. It was a poor attempt at teasing, and I’m sorry. I won’t bring him up again. I haven’t flirted with anyone in a long time. Maybe ever, and I’m not very good at it.”

“You were flirting with me?” Adam asked, eyes glazing over. 

“I was trying. In case tonight didn’t give you an indication, I like—” 

“Dr. Carlsen! We need you over here.” 

Chapter Text

Adam was reeling. He wanted to finish the conversation they started. What did Olive like? Him, hopefully. Whenever he convinced himself that there could be something between them, he stopped. He wouldn’t force himself on Olive, but it was hard to believe she didn’t feel what he did. The magnetic pull may have been invisible to the naked eye, but it was very real for him. He could kick himself for shutting down the moment she brought up leaving him for up Benton. It wasn’t her fault, of course. She didn’t know how much of a trigger that prick was. 

The thought of Tom having any relationship with Olive made him feel ill. Tom would never appreciate her or love her the way Adam did. He did, after all, love her. He could feel it deep in his bones. Tom would use Olive like a tool or bargaining chip, the way he did all people. 

“We have a 74-year-old male with a TBI. CT Scan just arrived, and it’s a brain bleed,” Holden explained. 

“We need to relieve the pressure,” Adam said, assessing him quickly. Olive was by his side immediately, handing him tools before leaving to prep the OR. “Olive, can you prep for a craniotomy?”

“IM needs to join. He has a tumor that’s ruptured we need to treat.” 

Adam bit the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing. “We’ll work it out.” 

“Malcolm and I can prep. Do you need anything else?”

“No. Thank you.” 

Holden and Adam worked quickly, stabilizing the patient before heading to the OR. 

“You and Olive?” 

“I’m not sure. She was teasing me and brought up Benton. I shut down like a fucking dick and probably ruined everything.” 

“You haven’t. Just be honest about med school. The two of you were cute tonight.” 

“And Malcolm?”

“He asked me on a date,” Holden beamed.

Adam smiled back, genuinely happy for them. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

“We haven’t had an accident like this in a while.” 

“The last one I remember was our first year. Remember?”

“The bus collision,” Holden nodded. “That was a brutal shift.” 

“It feels like a lifetime ago. Now look at us.” 

“I’d say we’ve come a long way. And,” he started, wagging his brows, “I can’t wait for our first double date. You, Olive, Malcolm, and I. ASAP.” 

“Ladies,” Tom said, striding up to them. Adam scowled. He didn’t care about the taunting. He just hated Tom. 

“What do you need, Benton?” Holden snapped. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just saying hi.” 

“Did it look like we wanted that? We’re busy,” Holden quipped. 

“Another surgery,” Tom said, whistling. “How’s your little Barbie doll?”

“Do you need something?” Adam asked, keeping his voice even.

“I’m not allowed to say hi to my two friends?”

“I’d hardly call us friends,” Holden sneered.

“You’ve always been so dramatic. Even in school,” Tom said, rolling his eyes. 

“As if you can talk about school. You’re lucky anyone even let you graduate with all your antics.” 

“You are so boring,” Tom snored. “Let it go.” 

“Once again, do you need something?” Adam snapped. 

“You ought to show a little more respect,” Tom sneered. 

“The only person I respect here is Holden. Stop wasting our time.” 

“OR 2, Adam,” Holden said. 

“Don’t delude yourself about Olive,” Tom smirked. “A girl like her, with someone like you? As if.” 

“Don’t you have injectables to deliver somewhere?” Holden snapped. “And in case you forgot your place, there’s no need for you in the surgical ward. You’re not a surgeon.” 

“And whose fault is that?”

“Your own. You’re not good enough,” Adam said, striding through the doors. 

“I fucking hate that guy,” Holden huffed. “Don’t listen to anything he says.” 

“I don’t know why I’m so bad about letting him get under my skin,” Adam admitted. 

“He’s manipulative. He knows your triggers.” 

“My trigger is him at this point,” Adam grumbled. 

“There’s a reason he didn’t make it, and you’re head of neuro. Good to go?”

Adam nodded, walking through the familiar OR doors. Olive was already waiting for him, bouncing on her heels. Even though she was wearing a mask, he could see how big her smile was in her eyes. God, they were beautiful—hazel and bright. He couldn’t help but mimic the gesture. 

“Your first surgery back. How does it feel?”

“Like home,” she teased, tying his gown. “There’s no OR I’d rather be in.” 

“It was weird without you,” he said quietly. 

“There’s no getting rid of me, mister.” 

Adam felt defenseless when it came to Olive. She was his kryptonite and only exception. He never thought he would find his person, yet here she stood—perfectly perfect for him. Tom’s words still rang in his head, cancerous as they had always been. He wanted to keep Olive as far from him as possible. She was too pure for his antics. 

When they first met, Adam thought Tom was a good guy. A future friend. Someone he could trust and rely on. What a joke that turned out to be. 

Adam couldn’t think of someone he trusted less than Thomas Benton. 

The thought of him poisoning Olive against Adam the way he was able to at Harvard for a period of time made him ill. At the time, Adam didn’t realize he was the most promising student Harvard Medical had in an age, but Tom did. It made him an obvious target for a game Adam didn’t realize he was playing. 

Growing up, he always had a hard time making and maintaining friends. No one could relate to having ambassador parents or knowing what living in a different country was like. Adam was interested in science and education, where kids his age wanted to play sports or video games. Everywhere he looked, there was an embargo. 

Sure, there were nannies, hired staff, and constant visitors for his parents, but they never lasted. The attention paid to Adam was minimal, and nothing was genuine. Holden helped Adam grow leaps and bounds, and Adam would be forever grateful. Finally, he had someone who understood him and saw him for who he was. Holden was a constant in his life, always helping him try to be the best version of himself Adam could be. 

And then, med school happened. 

Holden was still by his side, but Tom entered the picture. He was suave, a smooth talker, and did what he could to take them under his wing. He might have been struggling his way through med school, but who wasn’t? Everyone knew Tom Benton, and knowing how important connections were, they were eager to get to know him on a more personal level.

It didn’t take long for Adam and Holden to both be wary of him, but they had no proof he was unsavory. He was well loved by the med school community. It was just a feeling. Yet the feeling grew, and months passed. 

They were both excelling in their classes, networking, and growing into young adults until they weren’t. The negativity was primarily directed toward Adam. Their classmates scoffed at his hair and dark clothes, calling him unapproachable, antagonistic, and a liar. Rumors were spreading as quickly as the disdain of his peers. No one believed Adam could be doing as well in school as he was without outside interference. 

Except for Tom. Tom stood up for Adam when he could, but always in private, never in public. Still, it was hard not to latch onto someone other than Holden who didn’t hate him. Tom tried to help Adam navigate the negativity that was coming from all angles by his second year. 

His professors were all wary of him. He was too precise. Too perfect. Yet, they found fault everywhere they could and weren’t shy of letting Adam know. That’s when the nightmare started. 

Adam’s grades were slipping, and it didn’t make sense. When his papers were returned, they weren’t the papers that were submitted. Every time Adam disputed this, pulling up the original paper submitted, it was dismissed. 

He was called spoiled and told to suck it up. 

One snapped, saying med school wasn’t meant to be a walk in the park. If he kept up his complaining, he’d never make it as a doctor. 

No hospital was going to hire someone as moody as him anyway. 

That he was burdensome, too much of a perfectionist to be liked.

He wasn’t good enough or smart enough. His grades showed that. If he kept it up, he would do more harm than good.

It all kept mounting, and Adam didn’t know what to do, where to go or turn until he noticed Tom’s grades were steadily improving. He was thriving, in fact. He was also the assistant for all the courses in which Adam’s grade had plummeted. 

Tom was in the process of re-taking failed courses. After Adam kicked up a storm, nearly dropped out, and spent months of gathering evidence, Adam found that he was stealing his coursework and using it for himself, swapping his original finished products with Adam’s. As the assistant, the papers were sent to him before making their way to the professor. 

He wouldn’t rest until the truth was known. Finally, his professors listened. Adam had to get the dean involved, threatening to get a lawyer involved as well. A full review was completed, and his grades were salvaged nearly a moment too late. As suspected, it was proven the papers Tom submitted were Adam’s. Adam would never forget the threat of being expelled looming, but instead, Tom was. Justice should have been served, but it was bittersweet. 

Holden never left his side, but everyone else did. His reputation was ruined, and everyone viewed him as a bad omen. Adam Carlsen was the odd know-it-all no one liked and was the reason Tom Benton, whom everyone loved, was gone. 

Tom worked overtime on rumors against Adam, scraping his way through med school elsewhere. He was coined as the medical school’s wunderkind, which everyone hated. If you were friends with Adam Carlsen, it would be considered a kiss of death to your reputation, which at Harvard was, above all.  Not even the professors liked him or could appreciate who he was as a student.

Over the years, the rumors never left, regardless of where he went, and neither did Tom’s impact. Holden was the only person who dutifully remained. Adam wrote off ever making friends again and stopped trying completely. He never cared about that decision until he met Olive. Those splotchy hazel eyes were his undoing, constantly filling him with fear. His worries were endless. 

That he was too pedantic for her.

He feared he wasn’t handsome enough in the traditional sense. Looking in the mirror, all he saw was a rugged exterior that didn’t give a shit about keeping up with the Jones’. 

That he was too old, and she deserved someone her age. 

That she’d feel that same warning everyone else had to stay away and would listen to it.

Or worse, that Tom would spew the same venom into her ears until it poisoned her bloodstream as well, turning Olive against him.

Adam repelled knowing Tom was in the same proximity as Olive. The things he could say. It would be just like med school. It wouldn’t matter that he spoke lies; those lies caused cracks. The cracks manifested into reality and always ruined his life. She would end up seeing what everyone else did. 

How unapproachable he was. 

All his flaws.

The way he was never good enough. 

Yet, as those same hazel eyes looked up at him now, all he discerned was adoration. He wasn’t religious, but Adam would happily pray he wasn’t mistaking the emotion in her eyes. She made him feel whole and cared for. It was impossible for him not to imagine their future together. The thought of losing that was more than he could bear. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Text

The feeling unfurling in her chest was foreign to Olive. It was bitter and unwelcome. She wanted to hate the device tech but couldn’t. She was doing her job, and it wasn’t her fault that she was stunning, older, and intelligent. Almost everything Olive felt like she wasn’t. 

Her blonde hair was silky and shiny, and she had pouty pink lips with the whitest, most uniform smile she had ever seen. Her stilettos gave her extra height and made her legs look amazing. Her dress was impeccable. Perfectly steamed and creased. 

She was everything Olive currently wasn’t.

Fresh-faced and alert, with a tastefully placed hand on Adam’s bicep. It made her want to scream or throw something. They had just gotten done with a grueling surgery that had more than one hiccup, to no one’s fault. It was just how things went sometimes. 

Olive had taken off her gown, but she still felt covered in god knows what. Beyond that, she was sweaty and tired and wanted to sit. She definitely didn’t want to watch a gorgeous woman who was Adam’s age and not riddled with debt, flirt with him. 

She absolutely did not want to see him smiling down at her, even if it was a fake, polite smile. Olive could at least take solace that it wasn’t her smile. The one he gave her that was uneven and amused. 

Why did he have to look so good in scrubs? It wasn’t fair. She pulled her scrub cap off, heading for the elevator. Unfortunately, to get there, she had to pass Miss Universe, beaming at Adam, telling him they should get dinner and a date sometime. 

It was her cue to leave. Take the stairs. Find a portal to another universe—anything. She didn’t hear Adam’s response, pressing the button repeatedly. She was relieved when the doors opened and equally relieved they closed before Adam could stop it, though she heard him calling her name and asking to wait.

It was petty. Unfair, maybe. But she needed space and couldn’t let him know how much the thought of him going on a date with someone other than her upset her. She swiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. They were ridiculous, but she didn’t know how else to release the emotion. 

Realistically, she and Adam would never work out. Given their conversation earlier, he obviously didn’t like her back. He was older than her and established, while Olive still felt like a speck of dust floating through time. They were colleagues, which was never a good idea. Not to mention, he never gave her any indication he had feelings. He cared for her, sure as a friend and a person, but not a lover. 

The thought was too fanciful to entertain. 

She showered quickly, washing away the long night and the surgery. She felt bad for leaving Adam to talk to the family alone but couldn’t bring herself to stand in the hallway, waiting for the device tech to leave. Worse, listening to him accept her invitation. 

Not to mention, she had to get ready for her shift at the bar. Technically, she shouldn’t have said she could start again today, but it was too late now. Olive faltered when she left the surgical assistant’s room, seeing Adam’s signature frown waiting for her. 

Not today, satan.

“Excuse me. I need to get to my shift.” 

“When are you going to quit that job?”

Never, probably. “Whenever I want.” 

“Why are you running off?”

“Did you miss the part about me having a shift to get to?”

“Can you stop for a moment?” 

He tugged her into an empty on-call room, locking and leaning against the door.

“What? What could you possibly want from me this time?” She was angry. Furious, really. 

“I want to know why you’re so upset. You ran off before we could talk to the family. I know you heard me calling to hold the elevator, so don’t pretend you didn’t.” 

“I’m tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie. 

He softened. “Call off tonight. Last night and today were a lot. Let’s go home and get some sleep.” 

“I can’t.” 

“You’re not usually this combative when you’re tired,” he pointed out. She was getting angrier by the second. Her blood was boiling, threatening to burst. He was trying to be nice, but Olive felt like a petulant child being admonished. 

“What are you doing tonight?”

Why? Why did she say that? His eyes sparked, looking at her curiously. 

“I don’t have a bartending shift, so I guess I can do whatever I want.” 

She glared at him, cheeks flooding with warmth. “Great. Lovely. Good for you. I hope you two have an excellent time.” 

Adam was still eyeing her, unmoving, though she tried to force him to. She was nudging him so she could access the lock. He stayed put.

“What are you, granite?”

“Marble,” he quipped. “Are you upset I was asked on a date?”

“No. You can do whatever you want, whoever you want. It’s not my business.” 

“Olive.” 

“You’re going to get me fired if you don’t move.”

“Good.”

“Fuck you,” she said, fisting his scrubs, annoyed. They were inches apart. He was so close she could feel his breath prickle her lips. His eyes darkened the longer they stood until he placed his hand on her lower back, pulling her flush against him. 

He was solid, pure muscle. Her own personal mountain, it would appear. Her chest was pressed against his, and Adam angled his head down, running his nose along hers. Olive’s eyes fluttered closed, goosebumps erupting over her body. 

Adam tugged her closer still, forcing her hips to meet his. It was wildly inappropriate and the most exquisite thing to happen to her. Her eyes flew open, feeling his erection roll against her denim. He was hard as steel; there was no mistaking it for anything else. 

“You think I want to go on a date with her?”

Olive wasn’t sure who started it, nor did she care. All she knew was she was kissing Adam Carlsen in an on-call room, and she didn’t want it to end. His full lips were hot and warm against hers, commanding her actions and requesting more. His hands spanned her ribcage, caressing gently before sliding upwards, pulling her closer. 

Her mouth opened the moment his tongue swept across her bottom lip, granting him access. Adam was still wearing his scrubs, and the heat of him radiated through the thin fabric. She could feel every ridge of muscle beneath her palms until she couldn’t help herself, raking her hands through his hair instead. A rumble of pleasure came from his chest, so she did it again. She gripped the thick strands between her fingers, stepping on her toes as though that would help her get closer—ignoring the fact she was already fused to him. 

Adam tore his mouth from hers, kissing his way down her throat and nipping at her collarbone. Olive lost herself, his name falling from her lips, breathy and wanton. Adam turned feral, lifting her in his arms and pressing her against the door. He kissed her until her lips were sore. It was all heat and bites and tongue until she was breathless, turning her head away. 

“Say it again.” 

She whimpered, gripping his hair harder. 

“Please?” He whispered into her throat.

“Adam.” 

His eyes were more black than brown, looking into hers. Olive smiled, bashful now, cupping his jaw. It was well-defined, with a light stubble. Adam leaned into her touch before kissing her palm. Olive couldn’t help herself, kissing him gently, one, two, three times, before sliding back to the floor. Her hands were still tangled in the tendrils at the nape of his neck when he pressed his forehead against hers. Olive was dizzy, her mind finally starting to process what had occurred. 

“I guess I should go.” 

“Stay,” he pleaded, squeezing her waist. “Better still, come home with me so we can talk.” 

“My shift…”

“Will you tell me why you need three jobs? Please?”

“Two please’s in a short period. What did I do to deserve that?”

He huffed a laugh. “Can we talk in my office?”

“Are you…Did you say no? To the device rep?”

“I thought I made that clear. But yes. I wanted to tell you, but you wouldn’t hold the elevator,” he glared. 

“Oh.” Olive was embarrassed. It all seemed silly now. 

“I like you were jealous,” he admitted. 

“What does this mean for us?”

What they did was hitting her in full force. Olive wasn’t one to take these things lightly and couldn’t emotionally afford grey areas. They should have talked first and made clear boundaries. Or not kissed at all.

A tinge touched his cheeks as he mouthed ‘us. ’ 

“I’d like there to be more.” 

“You do?” Her voice was incredulous, not expecting that to be his answer. 

“Just a few minutes. Please?”

“Another please,” she teased. He rolled his eyes and gripped her hand, leading them through the hospital until they reached his dark wooden door. They sat on the couch, Adam kissing her knuckles. 

“What do you mean by more?” She hedged. 

“As much as you’re willing to give. If I had it my way, I’d be your boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend,” she wondered. “It sounds so high school.” 

“I would have no idea. Believe it or not, girls weren’t lining up to date me in high school. Or any school after.” 

“No?”

“Nah. I was voted most likely to make people cry.” 

“Stop. You weren’t.” 

“Ask Holden.” 

Olive laughed, shaking her head. 

“I like you, Olive—a lot, which is rare for me. I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I didn’t want whatever you were comfortable with. If you say you don’t, I’d respect that, and I can’t stress enough that nothing between us would change. I would never want to do something that makes you uncomfortable.” 

“I believe you. I…I guess I’m scared.” 

“I know you don’t let people in easily,” he said.

“I don’t, but I feel like we’re past that,” she sighed. “I don’t like people either. It takes me a long time, and it never happens. Well, almost never, I suppose. I have to really know someone and trust them before I feel any kind of attraction. With you…” she paused, rolling her lips. “I like you a lot, Adam. It scares me.” 

His eyes were bright and hopeful, looking into hers. God, he looked so happy. It put something inside her back together. 

“I’ve been working three jobs because I have a hefty amount of debt.” 

“From school? No, wait, you mentioned you had a full ride, right?”

“Not from school,” she agreed. “It’s a weird story, actually. My mom’s death was sudden, so things are blurry now. Her doctor in Toronto told her about a clinical trial in the United States that was having positive results. It would at least buy her extra time, they thought.”

“Clinical trials are usually free,” Adam said, confused. 

Olive let out a watery chuckle. “True. Which is what we were advised. What no one realized at the time was the fine print in the terms and conditions because my mom was Canadian. No one else outside the US was part of the trial. Long story short, I emancipated when I was sixteen so I could leave the foster system.

“My dad left when I was little, and I had no family, but I would rather be on my own than stay in the system. There was a lot of paperwork involved, but no one at the time knew about the medical bills. After I finished college, finding and contacting me was easier since I was in the system because of my visa. As her direct family, it was supposed to be transferred to me the way it would have been to my dad if he were around. The debt had already been sent to a debt collector, where it was accruing interest,” she grimaced. “There’s a lot. I’m doing my best to—”

Adam was pacing, his face stony. “That’s not okay. That can’t be allowed. Not only were you a child, but it was also a clinical trial.”

Olive shrugged, not wanting to relive her desperate attempts to have it absolved. “I was denied financial aid for med school. I was accepted to Harvard, and I thought I could go to school later if I worked and made a big enough dent. I don’t know if it will happen, but that’s how I ended up applying in Boston.” 

“It can’t be allowed,” he said again. 

“I thought the same, but I couldn’t afford a lawyer who could look into it. I could barely afford to live in Boston and pay it off as it was. And now, so much time has passed I feel like it doesn’t make sense to—what are you doing?”

Adam was typing furiously into his computer. “Researching. Olive, I have never heard of this happening, but especially not during a clinical trial. They are free. That’s the nature of clinical trials because the patient is essentially putting themselves at risk in the name of scientific growth.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” she said gently. “It’ll be fine one day. I just need to—”

“Quit your job at the bar because I’ll fix this. I swear.” 

She gasped. “I’m late! Shit, shit, shit! I missed a shift last week because we were on-call, and now this? Ugh, they’re going to totally let me go.” 

“Sweetheart, please. Come home, and we can work this out. This isn’t okay.”

“I really have to go,” she said. Olive bounded toward him, kissing him goodbye. Adam deepened it, making her pause. This was nice, she thought. She could understand why normal people enjoyed it so much if this was what it was like for them. “Mmm, no! I have to go. You are sneaky, aren’t you?”

“When will you be home?”

“I’m not sure. It could be in twenty minutes if I get fired.” 

“Smart ass. Be safe.” He kissed her again, like he couldn’t help himself, as though he couldn’t believe they did that now.

“I have to go.” 

“One more time,” he pleaded, grinning against her cheek. 

Olive sighed, rolling her eyes. “Good night, Adam.” 

Chapter Text

Adam felt like a hangar was stuck in his mouth as he watched her walk out the door. He wasn’t happy she was leaving, but he couldn’t control every aspect of her life. Besides, he had work to do. This was probably an invasion of privacy, but he wanted to help her. That’s all he ever wanted to do. Adam had the power to make her problems go away, and he’d be damned if he didn’t give it his best shot. 

Seeing as she was the best thing to ever happen to him, it was the least he could do. 

Not wanting to be interrupted, he changed back into his clothes and headed home. It was cool today, with a biting wind blowing through the streets. It felt good. Refreshing. It cleared Adam’s head and helped him focus on what needed to be done. 

The moment he was home, he scarfed down a salad and started researching. Finding the clinical trial shouldn’t be hard since Adam knew where to look and had a rough timeline of the dates. The tricky thing was finding a sample contract with the terms and conditions that caused Olive so much pain and suffering. 

Hell or high water, he would get to the bottom of this and fix it for her. Not only because he cared for Olive but also because Adam felt it was his duty as a doctor. No patient or family should end up in a position like this—certainly not for a clinical trial. 

He spent the next few hours diving into the depths of the internet and making calls. Every doctor he reached concluded that this should not have happened. It wasn’t until Adam was able to get ahold of a very helpful administrative assistant at the hospital where Olive’s mother was treated that he obtained a copy of the contract. They still had an original sample copy with no patient information in their filing room. 

Jackpot. 

Adam read and re-read the contract until his head hurt, but this wasn’t his expertise. It was time to call in a favor, which he had never done before. 

“Well, if it isn’t my long-lost son.” 

“Har har.” 

“I’m only half joking. When was the last time you called me?”

“I would have seen you awhile ago if you didn’t skip the Alzheimer’s Gala,” Adam pointed out. 

“You’ve got me there. What can I do for you? I know you didn’t call just for small talk.” 

“I need help.” 

There was a pregnant pause.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever asked me for help. Not even with that mess at Harvard. This must be important,” his dad said gently. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I…technically this is a breach of privacy.”

“You and your bleeding heart,” he muttered. “Will I go to jail?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to know laws?” Adam pointed out.

“Touché.” 

“I have a…friend.” 

“A friend?”

“It’s not that shocking,” Adam said, exasperated. 

“True. But your tone suggests they aren’t just a friend.” 

Adam wanted to swallow his tongue. He had never talked about women with his father in his life. He didn’t want to start now. 

“She means a lot to me,” he amended. 

“That’s great to hear. What’s her name?”

“Olive.” 

“How did you two meet?”

“At the gala, actually.” 

“And your mother didn’t say? That sly woman.” 

“She didn’t know. I met her on a balcony when I was trying to get away from the table.” 

“And this Olive is in some legal trouble? How can I help?” 

“It’s complicated. She’s not, but I think what’s happened to her was illegal.” Adam took a deep breath and explained the situation until he wrung out every last detail with his father. 

“I’ll get back to you when I can. I’ll be able to give better advice once I read the contract and dive into this further. I agree, though. It sounds off. It will depend on the language and if there’s anything specifically pertaining to non-United States citizens. Still, the fact Olive was a minor when the debt occurred should negate this.” 

“Do you think it’s because she emancipated?”

“I’m not sure. That was one of the things I wrote down. I’ll have my paralegals dig into this with me, so it’s all hands on deck. One way or another, we’ll find definitive answers for you both.” 

“I…thanks, Dad.” 

“No problem, kiddo. You’ve always been independent, and I’m proud of you, but this is nice. I’m glad you’re asking for help.” 

“How are you and Mom doing?”

“Good. Am I allowed to tell her about Olive?”

“Sure. If you want.” 

“She’ll be thrilled. Maybe we could all get together for dinner at some point. No pressure, of course. How’s my second son?” 

“Thanks. Holden’s good. We had a long night the other day, but it went well.” 

“Does he know Olive?”

“He does. He’s going on a date with a good friend of hers, actually.” 

“Well, I’ll be damned. My boys are moving on.” 

Adam snorted. “I think we started moving on when we were eighteen.” 

“It feels like yesterday,” he sighed. “Your mother is angry with you, as a warning.” 

“Why now?” Adam asked, rolling his eyes. 

“She did some digging of her own and found out that her son paid off his parent’s mortgage.”

“I just wanted to help,” Adam mumbled.  

“We’re very grateful, Adam. But you didn’t have to do that.” 

“You’ve done a lot for me,” he pointed out.

“Oh, Adam. What are we going to do with you? Tell me about her. Olive.”

Adam blushed. “What would you like to know? We’ve never really done this before.” 

“Have you ever had a girlfriend before?”

“Dad,” he groaned. 

“I’m just saying. I would have asked before this point. Whatever you feel like sharing, I would love to hear.” 

Adam stumbled his way through, telling his dad whatever he could think of. More details on how they met. What she looked like, and more of her background. How much fun he had cooking with her and a list of what they were going to start baking. He started rattling on about how worried he was when she was in the hospital and the way it changed his perspective on what the families must go through. 

All the while, his father quietly listened, chiming in when he could and chucking along. It was weird but nice. Cathartic. Adam never bonded with his parents the way he hoped he would, but maybe this was a start. When they hung up the phone, he felt relieved and excited for whatever came his way, but mostly for Olive to get home.

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Olive was beyond ready when closing time came. She was dead on her feet and wanted to go home to Adam. She didn’t know how it happened. She had only been staying with him for a short period, but having someone to go home to and have come home to her felt life-changing. It was her favorite part of the day, which was dangerous. He was a slippery slope to which she felt helpless. 

Fastening her coat, Olive paused. This was her first time walking back alone after her concussion. She wasn’t attacked, but her guard was higher than it had been prior to the incident. She thought about calling Adam or maybe Malcolm, but it was a little past 2:30 AM, so they were probably sleeping. 

“You can do this,” she breathed into the night air. Her coworkers waved good night as they headed their separate ways. She hadn’t taken more than a dozen steps when a car flashed its lights at her. It was a familiar shape. Was that…a Prius?

“Adam?”

“Hey,” he grinned, opening the passenger door. “May I drive you home?”

“Thank you,” she breathed. “I was anxious about walking alone again.” 

“You should have said so. I wasn’t sure if this was too much.” 

“I didn’t think about it until it was time to go.” 

The car was warm, and she relaxed immediately, her eyes drooping. Adam pressed the button for her heat warmer the way he always did, smiling as he went. 

“Was your night okay?”

“There was a huge bachelorette party. They were fun but kept things busy. How was yours?”

“Good. No bachelorette parties were part of my night, though.” 

“No? What a shame.” 

“I can only imagine what Holden’s bachelor party will be like when he has it. I’m sure there will be a theme, sequins, and a full-on party.”  

“What would yours be like?”

“I can’t think of anything worse than bar hopping,” he winced. “I wouldn’t care about any of that.” 

“These girls were dressed like the founding fathers. They were celebrating the bride’s last day of independence.” 

Adam barked out a laugh, pulling into his parking spot. “That’s actually pretty good. What would you do?”

“I have no friends,” she pointed out. “I wouldn’t really care either. Maybe go camping?”

“You like the outdoors?”

“I do. I’ve always wanted to go to all the National Parks here.” 

“Me too. I’ve been to a handful. They’re all so special.” 

“Exactly,” she yawned. “Are you tired?”

“Are you?” He asked, one brow raised. 

“Want to watch one bake off to unwind?”

Adam softened. “Sure. Do you want some tea?”

“Please.” 

“I’ll put the kettle on if you want to change into something more comfortable.”

Olive blushed, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek before her courage waned. “Thank you.” 

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“We should make that sticky toffee pudding thing,” Adam said. “That sounds like the shit.” 

“We can add that to the list. Want to do that tomorrow? I can’t believe we have the whole weekend off.”

“A break will be nice,” he agreed. “Tomorrow it is.” 

Olive hummed happily, nestling into his side. She was too comfortable, barely able to keep her eyes open. Adam’s fingers ran up and down her spine, lulling her into a sense of calm. 

“Poor Benjamina,” Adam yawned. 

“She did so well. It was just her time.” 

Adam agreed, pulling Olive into his chest. “What parks do you want to go to?”

“The National Parks?”

“Mhmm.”

“Gosh, all of them. If I could only choose a handful, I’d say…Yosemite.” 

“Same.”

“Yellowstone, the Petrified Forest, Arches, Badlands, Acadia, Zion, Grand Teton, Bryce Canyon…ooh! I’d love to see the Redwoods and Sequoias and Joshua Tree.”

Adam’s laugh vibrated through her. “This will be a long trip. What about Glacier or the Volcanoes? Mesa Verde?”

“Ooh, please! How is anyone supposed to choose just a few? I’d love to go to Denali and the Rockies, also.”

“Alaska looks beautiful. I’ve never been. And Katmai to see the bears. I think that’s cool that you said Petrified Forest. I’ve always wanted to go there also, but I feel like it’s a skip for most people. Are you into geology?”

“I went through a phase,” she admitted. “I was obsessed and joined a rock club when I was six. I was the president, actually. Don’t be too jealous. The close-up photos look absolutely stunning.” 

“Phenomenal,” Adam agreed. “It would be cool to see them all, President Smith. Are you…you can keep sleeping in the spare room if you want. But if you want to sleep with me, you’re welcome to also. Not that we need to do anything,” he added quickly. “I just mean sleep. I know we haven’t talked about anything since earlier.” 

 “Earlier feels fake,” she admitted. 

“Do you regret it?”

“Not at all. Do you?”

“Of course not.” 

“So we are…” 

“Are whatever you want this to be,” he said lightly.

“Shall we go to bed, then?”

Olive could barely keep her eyes open as she brushed her teeth. The fluffy bedding was taunting her in the corner of her eye. Her eyelids were heavy when she slid under the duvet next to Adam. Still…

“Adam?” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“May I…” Olive faltered, tilting her head upward, her lips brushing his. Cupping her jaw, Adam kissed her gently, deepening only when she parted her lips. He was careful with every touch and movement, yet so passionate. Everything he was feeling was transferred to her. 

Adam treated Olive with reverent care. It was unlike other kisses she had experienced, which were clumsy and awkward. Olive remembered always wanting them to be over, never to happen again. But Adam was different. He controlled every movement, forcing her to become lost to sensation. 

When they finally broke apart, Olive was more at peace and excited for the future than ever before. 

Chapter Text

“No. Not there. That’s not the right spot.” 

“You’ve never even done this before,” Olive argued. “Why is that the wrong spot?”

“It wouldn’t be even with the other side. Look, it should be level and equal.” 

Olive burst out laughing. They were covered in flour, trying to score their loaf of bread. Adam went into a deep dive online and found templates to make the loaves look like flowers and leaves. Once he had his mind set on it, that was that. They couldn’t make a simple bloomer loaf with a slash in the middle as a trial run. No, no. They had to go big or go home.

They had a lazy morning sleeping in, tangled together under the duvet. Finally, they made their way to the kitchen, eating a quick breakfast before going for a run. The weather was perfect, nice and cool but not cold. The crisp air filled their lungs, and it was delicious. They did a ten-mile loop, and she had to admit that Adam was a great running partner. 

She had been worried he would be too fast with his long legs, but they quickly found a pace that worked for them both. Olive told him how much nicer this was since she had exclusively been using the treadmill. He promised to show her more of his favorite running routes, chatting away happily as they went. They grabbed a celebratory Starbucks during their cooldown walk back to Adam’s, cleaned up, and started baking. 

“Why do you have a scalpel at your house?” 

“I have a full sterile med kit for emergencies. Look at how well it’s cutting. You have to admit it’s more efficient.” 

“Very,” Olive said seriously. 

“What should we bake next?”

“Hmm. What do you want for dinner?”

“Something that goes with bread.” 

“Pasta?”

“I’ve never had homemade pasta.” 

“Let’s do it. That’s not exactly baking, but it is dough.” 

“How do you know how to do all of this?”

“Oh, you know. I used to cook with my mom, but I quickly became pretty self-sufficient once she passed away. Cooking was reminiscent of happier times, so it became a comfort to a degree. You know? But fresh pasta is fun. It sounds daunting, but it’s pretty straightforward. I saw you had the KitchenAid attachments.” 

“Do I?” Adam asked, rubbing his neck. 

“Yes,” she laughed. 

“My mom did a lot of shopping with me. She probably put it in the cart, and I didn’t know.” 

“She wants to domesticate you, doesn’t she?” 

“I think that would make her happy,” he chuckled. As he suspected, the box of pasta attachments was unopened. 

“What kind do you want?”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“I am an equal-opportunity pasta lover.”

“Let’s do fettucini.” 

“Done. So the bread has a half hour left to bake. Once we make the dough, it needs to rest for a half hour or so before it can be shaped into noodles. Then, once the noodles are done, we let them sit also before putting them in water.” 

“What should we make with it?”

“We know you have vegetables,” she teased. 

“That you love.” 

“As if.” 

“Chicken, shrimp, fish—”

“I meant to ask why you basically have a seafood shop in your freezer.”

“Fish is exceptionally healthy. I like variety, and it’s easy to cook.” 

“Most people would argue that fish is the hardest protein to cook. We could do shrimp? That could be fun.” 

“Shrimp it is.” 

Olive took Adam through making the dough, explaining why she likes to do it by hand rather than with a mixer. She was hard-pressed to think of a week when she last had this much fun. She couldn’t, and it seemed the same for him. 

Just like when they were in the OR, they made an excellent team, working quickly, cleaning, and completing the various tasks with ease. They were putting the bread on the cooling rack when Adam’s phone rang. 

“Hey, Holden. You’re on speaker.” 

“You don’t sound as sullen today,” Holden mused. 

“Do I need to take you off speaker phone,” Adam asked, rolling his eyes.

“You’re no fun, Adam. Olive, I presume you’re there?”

“Sure am! How’s your day going?”

“Lovely, thank you for asking. And thank you for making my broody friend sound moderately cheerful. He—”

“What do you want?” Adam snapped, snatching up his phone.

“Bye, Holden!” Olive called. 

“Maybe. I’ll ask. What happened with your date? It’s tomorrow now? Hmm. Is Malcolm free?” He turned to Olive, putting his phone down. “Do you want company tonight?”

“The more the merrier,” she grinned. “Plus, we should show off our handiwork.” 

“You guys can come over if you want. We made bread and homemade pasta, and—” a pause, “Yes, I baked something. I am a surgeon, Holden, I—” Then, “I said we! Olive and I made—yes, Olive was—are you coming over or not?”

Olive was trying to stifle her laughs, wiping down the counters. 

“You are the most annoying best friend I could have found. You do realize that, right?” He stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes. “Yes. I have your favorite ice cream.” 

A laugh burst out of her before she could stop, clasping her hand over her mouth. Adam smiled wide, dimples and all. 

“Do you see what I have to deal with?” he mouthed. 

“You love him,” she whispered his back. 

Adam shook his head. “Sure. We’ll see you two then. Yep. Bye.” 

Pressing the end button, Adam grabbed her hand, running his thumb back and forth. Olive wrapped her arms around his middle, closing her eyes and leaning her head against his chest. A satisfied rumble left him, and he kissed her forehead swiftly. 

“This has been fun today. Thank you.” 

“I think I should be thanking you.” 

“Nah. You haven’t had dinner with Holden one-on-one yet.” 

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Olive would be lying if she didn’t admit Holden was a laugh riot. He was emphatic and theatrical, telling stories as though it were yesterday. Malcolm and Olive were constantly laughing while Adam looked exasperated. 

“Olive. How did you get my mercurial best friend here to cook a carbohydrate? I swear all he eats are vegetables or fish.” 

“We had fun,” she grinned. 

“I’m impressed. Usually, he works all weekend.”

“I’m trying to find balance,” Adam admitted. “Plus, there was protein in this.” 

“Easier said than done. I almost went in today when I saw that car accident on the news.” 

“Not me,” Malcolm said. “I grew up watching my parents work non-stop. I don’t want that.” 

“That’s how Adam and I were, but alas. Maybe if I had something at home that I liked more than work,” Holden frowned. 

“What’s your family like, Kalamata?”

Her cheeks flooded with heat, even more so when Adam placed his arm along her chair—a quiet show of support. 

“I don’t have a big family or anything like that. It’s just me now,” she smiled. 

Malcolm frowned at her sympathetically, as did Holden. 

“Just you?” Adam asked, one brow raised. She could tell he was teasing to lighten the mood, and Olive appreciated it.

“Well, there is this grumpy neurosurgeon I met who is insistent on being my friend. He’s pretty ancient though, so I—”

“Thirty-one is hardly ancient.” 

“How’s your back?” she asked innocently. Adam glared. 

“He is grumpy, Olive. He’s always been so, despite my best efforts.” 

“Is that so?”

“Not even my power-ranger-themed birthday parties broke his façade.” 

“I went to prom with you,” Adam countered. “A grumpy person wouldn’t do that.” 

Malcolm choked on his drink, coughing vehemently. “Please say more.”

“Holden’s douche of a boyfriend wasn’t up to scratch. We had a good time rubbing salt in the wound.” 

“Much better than I could have hoped for. You looked dashing, if I recall.” 

Adam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It feels like another lifetime.” 

“And then you went to college together?” Malcolm asked. 

“And med school,” Holden nodded. 

“I think it’s cool. I couldn’t imagine having a friend for that long. It sounds amazing,” Olive mused. 

“We know just about everything about each other,” Holden agreed. “Which is why I was so surprised my friend here willingly made bread and pasta.” 

“Brain food,” Adam quipped. 

“Can we eat fried things now?”

“Calm down,” Adam snorted, stacking plates. 

“But you have—”

“Yes. Your ice cream is in the freezer. You should know by now I always have some.” 

“Ugh. Babe. Junk food?”

“Don’t tell me you’re just like Adam,” Holden whined. “There can’t be two of you. It’s called balance.” 

“As long as you don’t like pumpkin spice,” Malcolm said seriously. 

“What’s wrong with pumpkin spice?” Olive and Holden asked, affronted. Holden nodded approvingly in her direction. 

“It is repulsive, Malcolm. I agree.” 

“Don’t get me started on that toxic waste.” 

“You and Adam can drink water while Olive and I actually enjoy our lives.” 

“What are you two doing for your date tomorrow?” Olive asked. 

“We agreed to try a lobster place on the water,” Malcolm grinned. 

“That’ll be fun! I’ve never had lobster. Is it worth the hype?”

Malcolm and Holden stared at her. 

“You’ve never had a lobster roll?” 

“No,” she flushed. “Plus, isn’t it cooked in butter or something? If you love healthy food, isn’t that against the rules?”

“Good lobster is an exception, Kalamata. Lobster is, mmm!” 

She chuckled, helping Adam clear the table. Malcolm and Holden chattered away, scooping out ice cream and bringing it to the TV. They took their spots and popped on ‘The Last Dance’ docu-series about Michael Jordan. He was a favorite of Holden and Malcolm’s. Olive had never seen basketball and Adam was neutral, but admitted he was likely the best player their generation would see.  

Olive curled into Adam’s side, which was quickly becoming a safe space. The way he held her was unlike anything she had experienced before. He made her feel at home and peaceful and adored. Plus, he was a living, breathing, walking furnace. Olive loved it.

“Dinner was good,” he said, voice low.

“I like what you did with the shrimp,” she admitted. They had sparred over the best way to cook it, and Olive eventually conceded, too curious to continue. 

“What was that?” Adam grinned.

“I didn’t say it was better! I just said I liked it,” she huffed. 

“I heard what I heard.” 

“It makes sense you heard wrong. Hearing problems and all.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to listen to your elders?”

“What are you two whispering about?”

“How attractive Michael Jordan was back in the day,” Adam deadpanned. 

“He really was,” Holden sighed. 

“He has that red thing going on,” Olive said.  

“Red thing?”

“Alpha, or whatever. You know, red. Have you not done the personality color test?” 

As it turned out, they had no idea what Olive was talking about and promised to take the test after she sent it to them. 

“You’re going to have red in yours, for sure,” she told Adam. 

“Is that bad?”

“Not at all. I think you’ll be a red blue.” 

“You do realize I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he frowned. 

“You’re assertive but empathetic,” she explained. “You’re a leader. You take charge and are straightforward, which is red. The blue is your empathetic side. How much you care for others and don’t want them to suffer, for example. People probably think you’re just a red like MJ here, but you keep your blue side hidden.”

“What are you?”

“I’m not sure anymore. But Michael Jordan would just be red. You can tell.” 

Adam hummed, wrapping his arm around her middle. Holden and Malcolm were arguing over basketball statistics, blissfully unaware. He bent to kiss her shoulder. Olive hummed happily.

“I had fun today. Thank you.” 

“For teaching you how to make bread?” 

“Spending time with me. I didn’t really have that growing up. It’s…nice. Not being so alone,” he said bashfully. 

Olive took in his words, letting them settle. Sometimes, most of the time, Adam seemed like a mirror image of herself. They were so different, yet so similar. It fit how she felt perfectly. “Me too.” 

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Adam had never pushed Olive sexually, though she started to want more. She didn’t think she was ready for sex yet, but she couldn’t deny her attraction to Adam. Part of it was because of how respectful he was. That was a huge green flag. But sometimes, the lines were blurred. Did he not want more? He pulled his shirt off just as Olive took the plunge. 

“Would you maybe want to do other things with me?”

“Other things? Like dates? I know we work a lot and talk about work even more. I’m sorry. I was thinking about asking if you wanted to go to this place down on the water. I remembered how you said you haven’t had lobster, and—” 

“More than kissing,” she blurted, unable to say anything else. 

Adam froze, studying her. “You’re talking about sex. Not lobster.” 

“Not crustaceans, no,” she flushed. “I don’t think I’m ready for actual sex yet, but I just meant…you know, other things.” 

“Do you think I don’t want to?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. It’s okay if you don’t.” 

“Sweetheart. Of course, I want to.”

“But you always stop things,” she pointed out.

“Because I’m worried about going too fast or doing something wrong. Not because I don’t find you attractive.” 

“And if I gave the green light?”

Adam swallowed, his eyes darkening. “I wouldn’t mind doing…other things.” 

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Olive realized that maybe she didn’t fully understand what she was getting herself into. She was on the verge of sweating, fisting the sheets as Adam worshiped her body. He kissed her everywhere she allowed, seemingly enjoying himself. 

“When I said other things, I meant…other things, you know? Things you would enjoy.” 

Adam hummed against her thigh, biting the inside before soothing it with his tongue. “I am enjoying this.” 

“I-I…” had no words. No words were floating through her brain. There was no voice inside her head reminding her of all her debt or things she should be doing. Instead, she was mesmerized by the feeling building in her core. The pressure that threatened to break her. 

Adam resumed his ministrations, caressing her skin with his hands as he sucked on her clit. He seemed more enthusiastic about this than he had about anything before and moaned when she ran her fingers along his scalp. Her climax broke, rendering her speechless. Adam carefully slid a finger inside her, running it along her channel, prolonging the sensation. 

Olive pulled him to her, kissing him senseless. It was sloppy and hungry and perfect, the way Adam seemed to want to devour her. His erection was pressing into her core, and Olive couldn’t help but touch him through the thin fabric separating them. His hips jutted into her palm, his muscles quivering. 

He protested when Olive slid down his body, taking his boxer briefs as she went. She quieted him by sliding her tongue along his arousal before taking him in her mouth. Adam swore, his head falling back as he fisted the same spots Olive had held onto moments before. 

She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing and paused to tell Adam so, asking him to tell her if he wanted anything different. The fact that this was her first time seemed to arouse him more. He was impossibly hard as he wove his hands through her tendrils, vying for a better view. Tears were pricking the corners of her eyes as he thrusted, shallow and quick, yet she loved it. 

Feeling him lose control beneath her touch was everything she hoped for. The way Adam couldn’t stop the words of adoration and praise tumbling from his mouth as she swallowed his release would be burned into her memory, as would the way he held her close, peppering kisses wherever he could before sleep took them under. 

Chapter Text

“Oof—sorry.” 

A solid object ran directly into Olive, but she apologized out of habit. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but the words fell out before she could stop them. She wished she hadn’t engaged.  

“It was my error,” Tom said. “Good to see you again. Olive, right?”

“Yep! That’s me,” she chirped. “How are you, Dr. Benton?”

He seemed pleased she remembered him, though he was hard to forget. His teeth were whiter than freshly fallen snow. 

“Fantastic,” he said, leaning against the wall. “How’s neuro?”

“I love it. It’s really fascinating, and—”

“You know Carlsen is going to drop you, right?”

“E-excuse me?” He said it so matter-of-fact it caught her off guard. 

“Carlsen. He’ll drop you just like the others. You’re nothing special. It’s what he does.” 

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating, but Dr. Carlsen and I make an excellent team, and—”

“Listen to yourself. Olive, take it from me. I’ve known Adam since med school. He didn’t have any friends back then for a reason. He gives his loyalty to no one. Well, maybe no one other than Holden. But when the right time comes, he’ll leave or fire you—one of the two. You seem pretty solid, so realistically, he wouldn’t have a reason to fire you. Either it would be personal, or he’d leave on his own. Don’t kid yourself into thinking whatever’s going on between the two of you is special. He’s using you.” 

Olive could feel the heat in her cheeks. She was angry and embarrassed. She didn’t want to believe Tom, but there was something persuasive about him. His tone and the look in his eyes. It was difficult not to pause. 

“Noted. Thanks.” 

He must have felt the coolness in her tone because his annoying face softened. “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend. You seem like a nice girl. That’s all. I didn’t want you to be blindsided. I’m sure he seems like a good guy—wholesome, respectful, and whatever girls like these days—but I’ve known him for a long time. I wanted to give you a friendly heads-up. No ill intent.” 

God. Was he telling the truth? She couldn’t tell. 

“I trust Dr. Carlsen,” she said carefully. “If there are issues with my work, I trust he will tell me, and we can work to rectify the problem. If there are problems on a personal level, I trust he would do the same for that.” 

“Logical. Smart. But not necessarily Adam. Know what I mean?”

“Adam is the smartest person I’ve ever met.” 

“Defensive. Would he do the same for you, I wonder?”

Olive took a deep breath. “Dr. Benton. I appreciate your concern, but—”

“I get it. You don’t believe me. Here’s my card,” he said, handing one to her. “Call me when you’re off his service. Time’s ticking. Adam doesn’t stay or keep people around. I bet I’ll hear from you by the end of the year. Don’t worry, I won’t hold the fact you don’t believe me against you,” he winked, bopping her nose before striding away. 

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Olive was rattled, and she hated that. Tom’s words kept ringing in her head, living there rent-free. It was annoying and unwelcome. She had no reason to believe Tom, but he seemed to know her worst fear without even knowing her. 

She barely spoke during surgery today, too stuck in her head. Adam kept sending her worried glances. She wasn’t sure what to say. Tom seemed to trigger Adam, but she had no idea why. They didn’t have time to talk since Adam was pulled away to a board meeting as soon as they finished. 

“Hey, Olive!” Holden called, smiling. 

“Hi, Holden. How are you?”

“You sound glum,” he frowned. 

“Honestly? Weird day. I’m kind of ready for it to be over, you know?”

“I do. Can I help at all? I’m happy to lend an ear.” 

“I…” Olive looked away, biting her bottom lip. “I think I need to go for a run. Thanks, though. Are you looking for Adam? I think he’s still in a board meeting.” 

“Ugh. I’m glad I didn’t need to go. Those things are b-o-r-i-n-g. I was about to head to the gym if you want a running buddy.” 

What was with Adam’s friends ambushing her today? She nearly said no but realized this could be an opportunity. Maybe she could fish for information. 

“Sure! Thanks. Want to meet there in a few?”

“Awesome! I’ll save you a treadmill.” 

Olive gave her thanks, leaving to change quickly. She needed to get her anxiety out somehow, and running seemed like the best thing. Invading Adam’s privacy wasn’t her goal but maybe she could learn a different perspective from Holden. They hit their stride, warming up. Even running, Holden sported an easy smile. 

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Ask away. Though, I should warn you. I’m not as smart as Adam, so save the hard stuff for him,” he joked. 

“Noted,” she chuckled. “You went to med school with Adam, right?”

“Yep. Every hellish second of it. He was amazing, that little shit. I wouldn’t have gotten through without him.”

“So that means you went to school with Dr. Benton?”

Holden tripped, catching himself. “Tom?”

“Yes. Tom Benton,” she nodded. 

A dark look crossed his face. “Yes, we did. Briefly. Why?”

“I met him once when I was getting coffee with Adam, but I ran into him in the hallway today.”

“Have you told Adam that?” Holden asked carefully.

“No. We haven’t had the chance to talk.” 

“I see. Tom is…one of a kind.” 

“It seems so. I just…” she bit her lip, thinking about what to ask. “Don’t know what to make of him. Were the three of you not friends?” 

“That’s a story I’m not sure I should tell you,” he sighed. “If I were to give you any advice regarding Tom Benton, it would be to watch your back. He is very charming and persuasive in his own right.” 

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t. More than that, I don’t trust him.”

Olive was quiet, mulling over his words. Holden didn’t trust Tom, yet Tom told her Adam wasn’t trustworthy. Something Olive had never felt. Did she immediately trust Adam when they first met? No. But Olive never trusted anyone at first glance. That was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

“May I ask what Tom said to you?”

“He gave me his business card for when Adam and I part ways.” 

Holden’s lip visibly curled. “I have never seen Adam happier than when he is with you. That includes outside the OR and inside. He told me all about you.”

“My first day?”

“No. Well, yes. But no. When you met on the balcony.” 

Olive’s heart stuttered. “Really?”

“He regretted not asking how to contact you. I had never seen him like that. Besotted,” he grinned. 

“I regretted it too,” she admitted. 

“Are you going to tell Adam about Tom?”

“I am. I think he’ll be upset. He doesn’t seem to like Tom.” 

Holden was quiet for so long that Olive wondered if he didn’t hear her. 

“I think he’ll be grateful you told him. Speaking of…” 

Adam strode in, looking handsomely worried. 

“You stole my running partner.”  

“Sorry!” she grinned. “Holden and I ran into each other in the hallway.” 

“I was talking to Holden,” he quipped, smirking. 

“I see how it is. She is an excellent running partner,” Holden agreed. “She has significantly better taste in music than you.” 

“What is this?” he asked, leaning on Olive’s treadmill. 

“Taylor Swift’s new album,” they said. 

“It sounds sad,” he pointed out. “Is that how you—”

“She was going through a lot,” Holden explained. 

“I see.” 

“Do you?” she asked, amused.

“Not really,” he admitted. Holden hopped off his treadmill, wiping his brow.

“Olive, you are a tank. I am not. I hope you two have a beautiful evening,” he called, waving. 

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“I’m almost done. I just need to cool down. Unless you wanted to…?” 

“Nah.”

“How was the meeting?”

Olive slowed to a walk, taking him in. He had stress lines on his forehead and a wariness in his eyes. 

“Boring. Always boring. And long. Was your day okay? You were quiet during surgery.” 

“I…can we talk about it at home?”

Adam’s face fell, his eyes widening. “Of course.” 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

Adam was quiet the entire way home, and Olive knew him well enough at this point to know he was stuck in his head, thinking of every worst scenario. She squeezed his hand, trying to lighten the mood, but there was no use. This was Adam.

“I didn’t mean to stress you out,” she frowned.

“You haven’t.” 

Her silence plainly spoke her disbelief. Adam continued. 

“Have I done something?”

“Of course not. I do have a question, though.” 

“Anything.” 

“What’s the deal with you and Tom Benton?”

Adam froze, heat flooding his cheeks. “This is about Tom?”

She squirmed uncomfortably. “I ran into him in the hallway.” 

“Did he do something to you?”

His tone promised violence. “No, no! He just—are you two not friends?”

“No.” 

Olive waited, but nothing came. “Okay…well, this has been fun.”  

“I hate Tom,” he said. 

“I gathered that,” she chuckled. “We can just forget I brought it up, okay? I know it’s a sore subject for you.” 

“You do?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “You were pretty frosty when he met him that one day, and when I made a joke about joining his service, you froze. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. I was hoping to understand. That’s all.”

“We didn’t get along in med school.” 

“It’s okay,” she said. “We don’t need to talk about it. I just wanted you to know he and I spoke in the hallway.” 

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.”

“Will you tell me anyway?”

“In short, he gave me his business card for when you and I, ah…part ways.” 

Adam scowled and began cleaning. “And what did you say?”

“That I wasn’t interested, and I trust you.” 

“This is what he does,” Adam snaps. “He—”

“I’m not interested, Adam,” she said again, placing her hand on his forearm. 

“He starts off small, causing cracks, and then he ruins everything. Please don’t believe anything he said.” 

Olive was at a loss. Adam had simultaneously confirmed Tom was manipulative while telling her nothing. 

“Okay. I won’t.” 

“He almost got me kicked out of med school. I thought he was my friend, but he’s a leech, Olive.” 

“I believe you,” she said, willing him to accept that. 

“No one ever did. Not other than Holden.” 

“But I do. I believe you,” she repeated. “I thought the conversation was weird from the start and I knew you weren’t just going to fire me. I—”

“Is that what he said?” 

“He, well, he just…he said you were either going to fire me or leave. He insinuated you would drop me.” 

“I would ne—”

“I know! That’s what I told him. I told him I trusted you and had no concerns on that front. And that if we had an issue, you and I would work that out together.” 

“I fucking hate him,” he snapped. 

Olive took a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you because I didn’t want you to find out by anyone other than me.” 

“I appreciate it.” 

Adam kept cleaning and retreated deeply into himself. Their conversation didn’t go the way she had planned. She wanted to know more about what happened in med school, but it must have been worse than she realized. It was obvious that pushing Adam wasn’t the way to go. Olive could be patient, the way he always was with her. 

Olive started chopping vegetables and cooking noodles. She wasn’t following a recipe, deciding to let her mood take her where it may. Ramen was one of her mom’s favorite meals, and it was easy for her to make when she was on her own. She hadn’t made any for Adam before, but hopefully, it would turn out well. 

The smell of lemon multi-purpose cleaner wafted in through the living room. When she first arrived, Olive wondered how this house had been so spotless. Now it made sense; she hadn’t realized cleaning was a stress relief for Adam. Olive had assumed that was why he exercised so much. She was about to add the chicken when Adam burst into the kitchen.

“I can’t bear the thought of him ruining things between us, outside the OR or in. He destroys everything that is good in my life, Olive. I can’t cope with him doing that to us. Meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me. I can’t bear the thought of…fuck.” He ran his hands through his hair, then down his face.  

Oh, Adam. 

She rounded the counter, pulling him into a hug. He held her tightly as though she were a lifeline. Olive didn’t pressure him to say more. She knew he would when he was ready. 

Chapter Text

On a normal day, Olive hated surprises. Adam begged and pleaded until she relented, agreeing not to ask any more questions. 

“No more questions, please let me do this for you?” he said, with the closest thing to puppy dog eyes he could manage. Ugh. How dare he.

Despite insisting she was a planner, wildly busy, and wouldn’t know what to pack, she found herself sitting in the passenger seat of his trusty Prius sooner rather than later, trying to ignore the anxiety brewing in her gut. There was nothing wrong. Adam gave her enough information she knew what she should bring, but she couldn’t remember the last day she hadn’t planned meticulously, down to the minute. She absolutely couldn’t remember the last time she was on vacation. When her mom was still alive, perhaps?

They had been traveling along highways for a few hours, but now they were on a windy road, surrounded by quiet nature. It was peaceful, colorful, and unlike anything she had seen. 

“When am I allowed to ask what this is about?”

“I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

“You do a lot of nice things for me,” she pointed out. “Giving me a place to live is Exhibit A.” 

“If I recall, I’m the reason you needed a place to live,” he grinned. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll give you a hint. We had a conversation about…these places not long ago.” 

“These places? Adam, we’ve had conversations about a lot of places.” 

“True. But this was about a specific set of places you’ve always—”

“Are we going to Acadia?!” Olive gasped. “Oh. My. God. Tell me we’re not.” 

“We’re not.” 

“What? No! You can’t be serious.”

“You told me to—”

“Adam Carlsen, don’t you dare do this to my heart. Where are we?”

“In Maine,” he conceded. “We should be there soon. Good surprise?” 

“A horrible surprise because I’m crying, and surprises are horrible,” she said, fanning her face. “I love it so much. Thank you. Have you been here?”

“Nah. This is new for me, too.” 

“I’m glad we’re experiencing it together, then. My first National Park. I can’t believe it.” 

“What did you think we were doing?”

“I had no idea. Like I said, I don’t do surprises.” 

“What was the last surprise you had?”

“You,” she teased. “Meeting you on the balcony was a surprise since you were not part of my plan. I—oh no!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have hiking boots.” 

“Ah. I took the liberty of getting you some. If I told you we would be hiking, I was worried you’d figure it out.”  

Olive was so touched by the gesture that she couldn’t help but lean over the center console and kiss his cheek. 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

Olive squealed the moment they pulled up to the cabin Adam rented. It was a small one-bedroom cabin with a kitchenette and amenities. There was a small porch with a—

“HOT TUB?”

They were surrounded by a forest of the most beautiful shades of reds, oranges, and gold. The faint smell of the sea breeze mixed with pine touched their nostrils. It provided a sense of calm that only nature could cultivate. She had never been in such a cute cottage. In many ways, this felt like a dream. 

“Can we really take this much time off?”

“Mhmm,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “We have no surgeries. Plus, I’m head of neuro.” 

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Nah,” he grinned. 

“This is extremely sweet. Thank you.” 

“I thought we could both use a reprieve.” 

“Do you want to go hiking today?”

“There’s a hike outside this cabin. Did you see the path when we pulled in?”

She nodded, looking out the window. There was a sense of freedom here—an air of endless possibilities. “I did. Does it lead anywhere?”

“It’s supposed to lead up to a viewpoint, which is good for the sunset and sunrise.” 

Olive bit down on her lip. Adam chuckled, setting down a bag. 

“Sunset it is, then.” 

Adam had meticulously thought things through, in true Adam Carlsen style. He had pre-packed and purchased groceries. They spent the next hour unpacking and settling into the cabin before packing a picnic dinner. 

The hiking boots and thick hiking socks Adam bought her fit like a glove. Her toes were warm, happy, and cozy. Adam slung the pack over his shoulders and entwined their fingers as he led the way to the path. 

It was a well-defined dirt path. There were boulders and trees on each side, with views of the coast sometimes peeking through. Olive was fascinated by the flora and fauna, making notes to look things up when they arrived back at the cabin. Finally, there was a large break through the trees, with a plateau for them to sit on. 

Adam fanned out a blanket for them to sit on. Olive tampered down her squeal of delight. It was the cutest, most romantic thing to happen in her life. If she knew Adam the way she thought she did, he likely didn’t realize. He just wanted to do something nice for her; that’s what he was like. It made everything more special. 

There was a thermos of tea, plenty of sandwiches, fruit and veggies, and even salt and vinegar chips. 

“Our favorite,” she smiled. 

“You’ll have to pry them out of my cold, dead hands,” he agreed, popping one in his mouth. 

“You know, I’ve never asked you why you wanted to be a doctor.” 

Adam frowned, thinking. “I hardly know myself. I’ve always loved science, and deep down, I knew I wanted to help people in some capacity. Maybe Holden was partially an influence? I knew he wanted to go into medicine, and that fit with my love for STEM and wanting to help others.” 

“Do you ever wish you chose a different specialty?”

“Nah. I love neuro. Aysegul was an exception, but outside of her, I never meshed with anyone in cardio.” 

“She is an exception,” Olive agreed. 

“Neuro is complex and beautiful in its own right. We know so much, but there’s still a lot left to learn. I seriously considered oncology, but it felt like buying a house. There was a feeling during every neuro rotation I had. That want more and feeling in my gut that I was where I belonged.”

“Why Harvard?”

He scoffed. “I’m a masochist, apparently. In all seriousness, Holden and I were both accepted, and they were an excellent medical school. At the time, it felt like an honor.”

“If you weren’t a surgeon, what would you want to do?”

“Probably full-time research and teaching. I have questions constantly streaming through my mind. I work heavily with researchers now, but you don’t have the same level of control when you’re not the main investigator. Clinical trials are amazing, but at the same time, they’re wildly dangerous to the patient, so it’s not like we can do them often.” 

“I thought about getting my Ph.D. for a while.”

“For pancreatic cancer?”

Olive nodded, smiling easily. The breeze blew the salt of the sea their way, and Olive inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes. Olive laid back, apologizing for the lull in conversation, but she was enjoying the sound of the waves hitting the rocks. It was soothing, bringing her to a relaxed state. Adam didn’t mind, opting to lay next to her. 

Eventually, he spoke again. Telling her about how the low-frequency and rhythmic sounds of the waves caused a biological response. It releases dopamine and oxytocin into the bloodstream and activates parasympathetic nervous systems to help us relax. It ended up causing natural ways to reduce stress and bring the brain to a tranquil state. His voice added to everything, making her smile. 

“Remember when I told you on the balcony that you should do meditations?”

Adam chuckled, reaching out to grab her hand. He continued speaking, telling her more fun facts about the ocean and Acadia and how humans naturally gravitated toward water. Olive felt her eyes drooping once she laid her head on his chest, but she forced herself to stay awake. She wanted to soak in every moment. 

When the sun started to set, Adam prodded her gently. Beautiful magentas, blues, pinks, and oranges blended along the horizon. Olive tugged on his shirt, tilting her head upward, kissing him, and making him sigh in the process. 

Their hike back to the cabin didn’t take long, and Olive convinced Adam to try the hot tub. He made them test the chemicals first, mumbling about hygiene and proper pH levels. She squealed with delight, reveling in the warmth. Adam watched her, amused. 

“Does this control the jets?” she asked, fiddling with buttons.

“I think so.”

Olive walked to him, still beaming. She wrapped her arms around his neck and straddled his lap. Adam was sporting her favorite tilted smile, his hands spanning her ribcage. They sipped wine and stole kisses under the moonlight. When even Olive decided that, finally, even she was sweating, they padded back into the main living space. 

Adam was flipping through movies and Googling to ensure no animals died or were harmed emotionally or physically during the film. He was wearing pajama pants but no shirt. Olive paused under the threshold, assessing him. It wasn’t her first time seeing him shirtless, but it always made her heart flutter. 

“Hey,” he grinned. 

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” she admitted, plopping beside him. 

“I was hoping you’d like it.” 

She traced a trail on his torso, leaving goosebumps in her wake. “Are you still too warm?”

“We were on our way to being boiled. I might need a gallon of Gatorade to recover.” 

She snorted, shaking her head. “Did you decide on a movie?” 

“Nah. A shortlist, though.”

Olive bit her bottom lip, nodding. Adam must have sensed her hesitation because he turned to face her. 

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“Nothing. This has been really nice, is all.” 

His lips tilted into a small smile. “I’m glad you’re having fun. I had hoped…”

“Hoped?” she grinned. 

“That it would be a nice break for us both. We work a lot, and I know I didn’t handle the Tom issue the best,” he frowned. “I’m still sorry about that.” 

Olive shook her head before he finished speaking. “You don’t need to apologize. It seems very personal, and you don’t need to tell me anything you aren’t comfortable with. I wanted to be transparent, is all.” 

“I appreciate that,” he said, kissing her temple. “I hardly understand it myself. I don’t care about what happened in med school anymore, per se, but Tom has a way of manipulating people. And he seems to know my pressure points more than I know them myself. I’ll never fully understand it.” 

“Let’s talk about something else,” Olive hedged, not wanting to ruin the happy mood they had curated. 

“You want to talk about the surgery we have next week?” he teased.

“No work talk for the whole vacation.” 

Adam snorted. “You’ll never last that long. You’re worse than I am.” 

“What’s on your short list?”

“Pride and Prejudice. You mentioned liking it, and this may shock you, but I’ve never seen it.”

“Yes, please! You’re going to love it. This is a classic for a reason, Dr. Carlsen.” 

“You won’t hear a complaint from me, I swear.” 

“Wait until you see the hand flex,” she said excitedly.

He arched a brow. “Do you mean a literal hand flexing?”

“I’m so excited for you.” 

“I…me too?”

Olive cuddled into his side, listening to the familiar piano melody fill the room. Adam peppered her with kisses, pulled her into his chest, and handed her chocolate. Everything was perfect. 

Chapter Text

Adam’s cheeks hadn’t hurt like this in a long time. Maybe ever. He had been smiling all day, enjoying Olive’s squeals of delight. They had been hiking all morning and afternoon all over Acadia, chasing the sunrise and now the sunset. He felt like a fucking sap, but wouldn’t have it any other way. Hell, he’d even watch Pride and Prejudice every night if she would keep beaming the way she was. He would never forget the way she kicked her feet at the infamous hand flex scene. He had to bite down on his laugh. 

She entwined their fingers, walking happily down the trail. They had dinner on a rocky cliffside, surrounded by pinks, oranges, and reds, leaving for the cabin again before it got too dark. Adam felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. Most of it was Olive, but part of it was not having phone service. It forced the issue of unplugging for real. There were no distractions for him; there was only her. 

“I’ve loved this. Thank you,” she sighed. 

“Not as much as I have,” he said, kissing her knuckles before moving to her lips. Olive kissed him gently before padding to the shower. Adam sighed happily, flopping onto the bed. He loved everything about this, most importantly, Olive. 

Love. 

Surely it was too soon to be saying that, or feeling it. Adam wouldn’t know what was or wasn’t appropriate in that department. All he knew was that he didn’t want to scare her away. No, no. He would self-destruct before he did anything to hurt or upset her. More than that, his own well-being depended on hers, and it would not do to forget that. 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

Olive felt relaxed and squeaky clean. There was something soothing about a shower to soothe your muscles. She hadn’t been long, but the short reprieve did nothing to dampen her spirits. Adam was lying on the bed with an easy smile and his eyes closed, having already cleaned up.

“I have an idea for tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh?” He asked, opening one eye.

“We’ll find a foggy field and a regency costume. You’ll walk toward me during the sunrise and confess your love.” 

“My violent love,” he nodded, a smile touching his lips. 

“Ardent,” she corrected. “Most importantly, that I have bewitched you body and soul, Dr. Carlsen.” 

He scowled. “Dr. Carlsen again? What have I done to deserve that?”

“I like Dr. Carlsen,” she supplied.

“Do you want me to flex my hand while I’m at it?”

“Definitely. I would swoon.” 

Adam flexed his hand, and Olive fainted onto the bed before bursting into laughter. Adam shook his head, flashing her favorite smile. This was more than she could have hoped for from their time off. He dragged her over to lie on his chest, kissing her temple. 

“I am incandescently happy.” 

“It’s been perfect,” she agreed. It was true. There were no distractions or worries. No phones or emails bombarding their every moment. There was just Adam, nature, and the sound of the ocean. 

Blissful.

Adam’s fingers were trailing up and down her spine, and he hummed happily. Goosebumps erupted over Olive’s skin. She wondered idly when that wouldn’t happen anymore. Hopefully never. Adam bent down, kissing her slowly. Olive smiled after a minute, biting his bottom lip and deepening the kiss. 

He responded immediately, pulling her closer. They had never had sex. Olive was fairly positive they both wanted to, but there was always some embargo. In the beginning, they both wanted to go slow. Then, Olive told Adam about her past and feared she had made things awkward. In reality, barring any safety concerns for Olive, Adam was the most respectful person she had ever met and never crossed a boundary. 

Tonight felt different.

Adam was kissing her like they had all the time in the world. Maybe that’s because they did, but it was easy to believe that it was what he wanted. Olive snuck her hands under his shirt, flexing her nails into his abdomen before pulling it over his head. She never thought she would care about appearances. She had seen men with sculpted muscles before, but it did nothing for her. But Adam chiseled like Adonis, looking down at her with nothing but affection?

It was one of her favorite views. 

He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching. His eyes were hooded, pupils dilated. Olive tilted her head in question, ever so slightly. More? She was asking. Adam grinned in response, snaking his hands around her waist. They were trembling as he pulled her shirt up and over. His eyes closed momentarily, like they always did when they were chest to chest. 

“This isn’t why I wanted to bring you here,” he supplied. 

“I know,” she smiled, slipping her thumbs under the band of his boxer briefs. 

He bit the inside of his cheek, taking another deep breath. She could feel his breathing grow more ragged as the seconds passed. “And this isn’t how you’re feeling right now? You won’t hate me tomorrow?” 

“Of course not,” she promised, stroking his cheeks. They were hot and bright. She could feel his resolve slip away the longer he looked back at her. 

“I really wasn’t expecting…I don’t have anything.”

Olive stared at Adam for an inordinate amount of time, trying to parse the words.

“Condoms,” he clarified. “I’m clean, though. Of course.” 

Oh. “Oh. I’m on pills now, and I take them at the same time every day.” 

Adam nodded, which makes sense. He already knew that.

“I’m comfortable, if you are.” 

Adam’s eyes glazed over when, finally, acceptance set in, and he rolled Olive onto her back, pressing his body against hers. He was kissing Olive with no holds barred until her lips were sore. When she finally pulled away, he changed tactics, kissing his way down her neck to her collarbone, then her chest. 

Heat was blooming in her core, spreading throughout her body. Olive squirmed, trying to squeeze her legs together, when Adam dragged his teeth along her taut stomach before kissing each of her hipbones. She couldn’t help but tangle her fingers in his hair, loving the contrast of the jet black strands against her skin. 

Adam slid his fingers under the delicate fabric, dragging it slowly down her legs. He was torturing her, and he likely didn’t even realize it. It wasn’t his style, but savoring the moment was. His eyes were bright and excited as the last piece of fabric was peeled away.

The first time Adam went down on her, Olive was shy and embarassed. Remnants of those feelings always remained, but there was something about the act that made Adam feral. He loved giving Olive pleasure, maybe even more than surgery. He knew exactly what to do to make her body hum as tingles ran down her spine. 

Olive tugged at his boxer briefs, her mind buzzing. Was it too much to tell him she never wanted him to leave? Maybe, but she did it anyway. Adam responded with a bruising kiss—a promise that he wouldn’t. 

She pulled him against her, spreading her legs to accommodate him. He seemed nonsensical as he caressed her thighs. Olive kept mumbling into his skin, words spilling out of her against her will. There was something about Adam that opened her up, figuratively and literally. But Adam? He was stone silent. 

He hadn’t said another word since they began, and for someone who was usually so direct, it was unnerving. If she were less secure, she might wonder if he wasn’t enjoying it. She would love to hear his praise or anything to reassure her that this was as good for him as it was for her, but he showed her in other ways. 

The warmth in his eyes. 

His affection in every caress. 

The way his heart pounded beneath her palms. 

How his jaw clenched when she kissed the sensitive spot on his neck.

She could feel it, and that was good enough for now. Adam nudged his cock between her folds, coating himself with her wetness. Her body shuddered when he hit her clit, earning a groan of satisfaction from Adam, so he did it again, harder this time. 

Olive pierced her nails into his back, egging him on, when finally it was too much for them both, and he started pressing his length inside her. It had been a long time for Olive, and even still, Adam was very much a full-grown man as opposed to a young college boy. This was a different league. 

The fit was tight, and they were both breathing hard, trying to calm their racing heart rates. Olive couldn’t think about anything other than the pressure building inside her. Adam shifted her legs slightly, just so, and slid into her all the way to the hilt. 

“Holy—” Olive gripped the nape of his neck like a lifeline.

A moan ripped from Adam’s chest—deep and sultry. It would be burned into her mind forever. She wanted to memorize it and replay it over and over. Adam kissed her everywhere he could. On her lips, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. He was shaking above her, doing what he could to relax her. 

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, her eyes closed half-mast. Adam bent his head, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting gently before moving to the other side. Olive left the confines of her mind, body relaxing further and letting him in deeper. Adam pulled out and thrusted back in, hitting a spot that would wreck her. 

He continued pumping in and out of her slowly, asking if she was still okay. He’d do anything but hurt her. Olive was deliciously full and felt close to breaking, but also—

“Perfect,” she breathed. 

Adam swore under his breath, the first sign of things to come, before his control weakened and he increased his speed slowly but all at once. In the blink of an eye, his thrusts became all-consuming, taking over both of their senses. He caught her lips, kissing Olive clumsily. There was no coordination—this wasn’t a manicured Hollywood moment, but she wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Olive didn’t know sex could be like this; that it could feel this good. But now that she was experiencing it with Adam, she didn’t want to be without it again. The intimacy of being so connected with someone was simultaneously too much and not enough. 

She felt him harden the more time passed, until he felt like steel, pumping his way in and out of her body. They were both headed toward nirvana, and Olive briefly worried this second orgasm would wreck her. Adam started rubbing small circles on her clit, matching them in time with his hips. 

Olive whimpered, canting her hips and tightening her legs behind her back, sucking him deeper and meeting him match for match. The sound of the ocean was replaced with their bodies coming together, and the hushed moans of pleasure from them both. Olive’s pleasure rose and fell like the tide, until finally she could no longer stave off the small flutterings in her core, begging to be set free.

Adam hit the spot that detonated them both, and she didn’t have time to warn him she was coming, not that it mattered. The sound that escaped his lips was the sexiest noise she had ever heard, and then he was coming with her. She was wholly unprepared for the sight of him coming apart above her. A small sense of accomplishment passed through her, seeing the way they broke the leash of control he always had over himself. 

She stroked the muscles in his back, feeling the tension dissipate. He looked as relaxed and sated as she felt, maybe even a little bashful. Adam opened his mouth, but no words came. He flushed before shaking his head and kissing her once again. 

Olive knew what he was feeling, because she felt it too. But there was time for that later. For now, they could just be here with each other. She had always wanted a love that would last, but feared she would never find it. Now, as sleep pulled her under, she finally felt she had.

Famous last words. 

Chapter Text

The drive back from Acadia was quiet. Despite leaving, they were both too happy to speak, giving each other warm grins. Occasionally, Adam would grab her hand and kiss her knuckles. He didn’t stay long once they got home, having promised Holden they would work out together this morning. 

With a parting kiss, Adam left, and Olive? She flopped onto the bed with zero intentions of moving. Even though she didn’t drive, there was something about a long trip that required chill time to unwind. Begrudgingly, she finally turned her phone back on, removing airplane mode. 

Notification after notification started piling in, and one caught her eye immediately. Olive couldn’t breathe. She was dizzy, shocked, confused—all of the above. This couldn’t be real. Adam wouldn’t have lied to her. He wouldn’t have kept something this big from her, surely. Olive couldn’t believe she was that wrong about someone. 

Yet, here it was, in black and white on her screen: Dr. Adam J. Carlsen, Head of Neurosurgery at BoMa General — Winner of the MacArthur Grant. 

     Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

     TB

But it was no MacArthur grant—it was the grant to end all grants. An anonymous donor awarded the winner a whopping eight million dollars. The interview process had been years long and rigorous. Adam was unprecedented, having won in the past and winning again now. 

There was a rise in neurological disorders in Africa, which was widely public knowledge, having been published by most major news articles and the WHO. Adam was being awarded the opportunity to move to Africa, open a clinic, and help current doctors and surgeons in the area develop procedures that would be widely available. 

The country in Africa had not been chosen yet, but did it matter? It was Africa. As in, he would be moving to a time zone potentially seven hours away, thousands of miles from Olive. And he never said a word.  

She couldn’t believe it. 

Olive felt deceived and stabbed in the back, completely betrayed by the only person she loved. How many times had she told him she couldn’t cope with being left again? He uprooted her entire life, gave her a new one, and was ripping the rug out from under her. It was her worst nightmares coming to life. 

She was about to be left alone. 

She had nowhere to live, given the situation. 

She would have to pick up the pieces again. 

Olive was frantically looking for her suitcase. She couldn’t stay here, in his house. She didn’t belong here. More than that, she didn’t want to be there. She wanted to be gone before he told her he was moving and that she’d have to leave. That was something she didn’t think she could stomach. 

She was sure he would have a dozen kind things he’d do to help soften the blow. All of which would be a nightmare to hear. Knowing Adam, he probably already had an apartment for her to live in and a new surgeon for her to work for lined up. 

Her suitcase was full, despite having just unpacked from their trip. Their perfect trip. Olive loved every second of the long weekend. Now she was back and felt like a complete fool. All of Tom’s taunts and warnings were ringing through her head. She still trusted Adam over Tom, but the fact was that Adam was leaving. 

God, she felt like an idiot. Olive couldn’t believe she fell for it—for him. She had been open and vulnerable with Adam to have it thrown back in her face. She told him the truth about her past. How much losing her mom affected her, and how scared she was to be left alone again. Even more embarrassing, that she wasn’t attracted to people like most others were, and that it took her a long time to know and trust someone enough for that to happen, but he had been an exception; she liked him from the moment they met. He must have felt so smug when she told him she trusted and liked him. Adam was an outstanding actor, she realized, thinking about their night together. 

Olive felt sick. 

She couldn’t believe Tom was trying to tell her the truth this whole time. The fact she found out through him made things ten times worse. She left with minutes to spare, knowing Adam would be back from working out with Holden soon. She called Malcolm, not knowing what else to do. 

“Kalamata!” 

“Hey, Malcolm. I have a big favor, but I need it to stay between us.”

“Anything.” 

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Adam and Holden hopped off the treadmill, grabbing their water bottles. Holden was scrolling through his phone, likely trying to find a song that would piss Adam off. He had been grumpy all morning. The joke was on him, though. Adam was too happy to be annoyed by something as trivial as music. 

He was still floating on cloud nine after his night with Olive. He was in love and was trying to figure out how to tell her. She made everything in his life better, including Adam himself, and he’d never take that for granted. He wished he had said more when they had sex, but he was too awestruck by everything about her. More than that, he was too worried. He didn’t know how to convey how he was feeling out loud. Saying the words ‘I love you’  didn’t seem enough. 

“I need to think of something romantic to do for Olive,” he mused, thinking this would be up his best friend’s alley. Adam had ideas, but Holden was about all things romantic. 

Holden grunted.

“Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning? What’s with you today?”

“You, you little shit. I’ve been waiting all morning for you to talk to me.”

“I’m confused. Is what we’ve been doing not talking?” 

“You know what I’m talking about,” he huffed.

Adam faltered, thinking. “I really don’t.” 

“Whatever.” 

“Holden, you’re my best friend. What’s going on? Did I do something?”

Holden stared at him before sighing. “I just thought you would tell me. That’s all.” 

“Tell you…?”

“Cut the shit, Adam. I already know. It’s been written all over your face.” 

Adam flushed. “I didn’t realize I was that transparent or that I needed to broadcast it to you. I mean, Jesus, Holden. Olive and I had sex for the first time less than twenty-four hours ago. I think I’m entitled to—”

“What?” Holden asks, cutting him off.

“You should have known I’m not the guy who would talk about that openly,” Adam snapped. He was getting annoyed now. “Especially without processing it. I know you wouldn’t be a dick about anything, but it’s not only my life. It’s Olive’s too, and I wouldn’t betray her by—”

“That’s why you’re so happy this morning?”

“I’m not—what? Yes. I thought that’s what you were talking about. What did you think it was?”

“Africa,” he said, exasperated. “I thought you would have told me.” 

“Africa…?”

“Holy shit. You don’t know. That dopey fucking grin really is because of Olive.” 

“I love her,” he admits, bashful. “I was trying to figure out how to tell her. I should have said something last night, but it didn’t feel like enough.” 

“Maybe on a safari? In Africa?” Holden pressed. 

“Do you want to go to Africa or something? Go see the Serengeti or that huge waterfall?”

“Africa, Adam.”

“You do realize just because you keep saying that doesn’t mean I’m magically going to know what you’re talking about. I don’t have Google alerts on my phone about news in Africa.” 

“The MacArthur Grant? A clinic in Africa? Ring any bells?”

“Oh, shit. I’ve been so wrapped up in Olive and happy at work for once I forgot about that. Yeah. I applied a few years ago. You know how long the interview process is. There are a lot of rare neurological disorders developing in a few regions. I wanted to open a clinic to—wait, how do you know about this?” Adam was confused. It wasn’t public knowledge, and it had been so many years since he applied and over six months since he heard from the committee, he had forgotten. If Holden knew…blood drained from his face. “Holden, how do you know about this?”

“I assumed you knew. I feel like an ass now,” Holden muttered, shoving his phone to Adam. He felt dizzy, reading the headline. Holden was saying congratulations, but all he could hear was Olive’s voice ringing through his head. 

     I can’t cope with someone leaving again. Being alone after relying on someone again.

“I have to go. Fuck. I can’t believe I let this happen.” 

“It’s a big deal, Adam. I’m proud of you.”

“I haven’t told Olive,” he hissed. “I forgot. I fucking forgot, and if you saw this, then she might be able to see it, and she’ll think I’m moving to Africa. I have to go. I had my phone off all weekend. I haven’t turned it back on so I—fuck. We’ll talk later.” 

Adam ran out of the gym and to his townhouse, going as fast as he could. Panic was clawing its way up his throat, but he tried to stamp it down. They’d be fine. He would tell her in person and explain why he hadn’t told her about it. He would make her understand if it was the last thing he did. 

But when he opened the door to the townhouse, he could already feel a shift in the air. Something was off. Wrong. His vision darkened, and white spots appeared. 

“Olive?” He called his voice not his own. 

Nothing. 

Adam flew up the stairs toward the bedroom, hoping she was sleeping. She wasn’t. The bed was empty, and her suitcase was gone. 

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Olive did something she had never done before. She called off work, explaining she was ill. In fairness, she sounded so horrible it was easily believed. 

Instead, she stayed in Malcolm and Holden’s guest room, crying. She had never felt so numb. Hollow.  It had been four days, and this entire situation felt like a nightmare and a dream. It was a dream for Adam, absolutely. It would easily be one of the biggest honors of his life. For Olive, it was a nightmare. 

“Kalamata, are you doing okay?”

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t even know.” 

“Can Holden and I come in?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be dealing with this.” 

“That’s what friends are for,” Holden quipped, handing her a pint of pumpkin spice ice cream.

“Thank you,” she said, moving to make room for them. 

“For what it’s worth, Adam is a mess,” he said gently. 

“I don’t want that,” she sighed. “I just don’t know what to believe. I’m scared, and I don’t know how to deal with that other than running or cocooning in on myself.”

“Your mom’s loss was hard on you,” Malcolm said, nodding, scooping out some healthy sorbet. 

“Adam isn’t malicious. I don’t know deep down if I believe he did this to hurt me. At the same time, all I’ve done is sit here and catastrophize. I don’t want to be a game to him or…I don’t even know. For him to up and leave after all those times, I told him how scared I was of being left alone again. I can’t help but think the worst.” 

“For what it’s worth, he ran straight home to talk to you the moment he found out. He freaked out at the gym,” Holden said. 

“He did?”

“I’ve never seen him so beside himself,” Holden said gently. “Though, the decision is yours. I’m not trying to sway you.” 

“If you want to text him, we can sit here and walk you through it,” Malcolm suggested.

“I don’t even know what I’d say.” 

“Do you want to talk to him?” Holden asked, frowning at the chocolate chunk that wouldn’t break free.

“I want to clear the air and understand why he didn’t tell me, but I don’t know what I’d do with the information after the fact.” 

“That’s too many steps ahead,” Malcolm shrugged. “You can’t know that yet anyway. That’s a later problem.” 

“Agreed. I don’t think Adam would mind hearing you’re alive and well,” Holden said. 

“You haven’t said anything to him?”

“No. He may be my best friend, but I won’t betray your privacy.” 

Her eyes watered. She knew it must be hurting Holden to stay quiet. He loved Adam like a brother. Nodding, she pulled out her phone, biting her lower lip. 

“How’s this? ‘Hi, Adam. I’m sorry for the radio silence.’”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, but if it makes you feel better, you can leave it in.” 

“I second that,” Holden said. 

“Okay. Then…what about, ‘Would you be willing to meet in person so we can clear the air?’”

 “Perfect,” they nodded. 

“He probably won’t respond if you two want to go—oh my god.” 

     Adam: Name the time and place. I’ll be there. I’m so sorry, Olive.

     Adam: Are you okay and safe?

Tears pricked her eyes. Things between them shouldn’t be this hard. Her hands trembled as she typed and deleted. 

“You okay, Kalamata?”

“I wish this never happened, or I weren’t so scared.” 

“You’re doing great,” Holden said gently. 

     Olive: I’m safe. Maybe I could swing by your place?

     Adam: I’m free any time tomorrow after 4 PM, but I can clear my schedule if you want to meet earlier.

     Olive: I can be there at 4:30. If anything changes, just let me know. 

     Adam: Thank you.

“How does that feel?” Holden asks. 

“I love him,” Olive admitted. “I’m scared because everything feels too vulnerable.”

“I’m proud of you, Kalamata.” 

“Because I’ve gone crazy?”

“Because you’re being honest with yourself about your emotions.” 

“Emotions are dumb,” she grumbled.

“Let’s talk this through. Hard facts. Logic. What do you think would be needed in order to give him another chance?” Malcolm asked. “You two seemed happy together, and this could just be a blip in the road.”

“He’s moving to Africa, Malcolm,” Olive groaned, shoving a pillow over her face. 

“But that’s not the problem,” Malcolm reminded her. “I haven’t heard you say once you care about that. In fact, you said you thought it sounded like an amazing opportunity. The problem is you feel left in the dark. What if Adam didn’t intentionally not tell you?”

“How is that possible? Who doesn’t tell their girlfriend they might be moving to another continent?”

“He forgot to tell me, too. I was angry with him all morning,” Holden said. “When I finally confronted him, Adam freaked out and ran home to talk to you. He forgot he even applied, apparently. I was the one to tell him he was awarded the grant. How did you find out?”

“Tom Benton emailed me a link with the article. He had been warning me that Adam didn’t want me around long-term, and I kept telling him to fuck off. He said not to tell him I told you so.” 

“That fucking prick,” Holden snapped. “He’s a snake, Olive. I wasn’t explicit when we ran, but watch your back with Tom.” 

“He is,” she agreed. “I trust Adam more than Tom.” 

“We’ll let you get some rest. Your heart will tell you what to do, Kalamata.” 

“What if he’s playing me?” She whispered, voicing her greatest fears. “What if he’s just using me to pass the time, and I didn’t mean anything to him?”

“Your heart will tell you that, too,” Holden said softly.

Chapter Text

Olive was shaking. She was anxious about the conversation to come and the anticipation of seeing Adam. She missed him so much it hurt. 

Leaving is what made Olive realize how much she loved him. How used to his presence and constant support she had become. In the days they were apart, she craved his company as much as she feared losing sight of herself. She missed everything about him. 

Their surgeries. 

The twinkle and crinkle of his eyes. 

His touch. 

His uneven smile and dimpled laugh. 

The way he unequivocally had her back. 

Still, they needed to have this conversation. She had things to say, and he had things to explain. Standing in front of the black door she had become so well acquainted with, Olive took a breath and knocked firmly. 

Adam opened it in seconds. Oh. Oh. The sight of him broke something inside her, an impressive feat, as she thought nothing was left to be broken. He looked horrible. His eyes were simultaneously blank and panicked, with dark circles underneath, as though he hadn’t slept. His hair was tousled as though he had been tugging it for days. More than that, his face looked haunted. 

“Olive,” he choked. “I didn’t think you were going to come.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” she admitted. He stepped aside, giving her a wide berth, letting her through the hallway. 

“Can I get you anything?” He was already pulling at his hair, clearly nervous. 

“No, thank you.” 

“Right,” he nodded. His eyes were rimmed red, as though the feet separating them caused him physical pain. “Right. Okay.” 

“Adam, I—” she stopped, sitting on the couch. “I have a lot to say and ask if I may?”

“Anything. Of course. But I’m so fucking sorry, Olive. I can’t stress that enough.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She needed to know.

“I know this sounds unbelievable, but I swear it’s the truth.” Olive nodded, and he continued. “I applied to the grant years ago. The interview process takes years in itself, and I hadn’t heard from the committee in over six months. I know it sounds like bullshit, but I forgot all about it. I have a spreadsheet of grants I apply to, of course, but I haven’t looked at it in ages. I met you, and it slipped my mind.” 

“You forgot you applied to move to Africa?” 

He flinched. “I know how bad it sounds.” 

“After all the times I told you how scared I was to be left alone again?” She didn’t want to say it, knowing it would hurt them both, but she had to. Her needs and wants were important, too. 

“I know. It was all I could think of when Holden told me it was announced. I ran home right away, wanting to explain, but you were already gone. I’m sorry, Olive.” 

“It made me feel like I meant nothing. I was a joke, and you knew all along that you weren’t planning on staying. I was just something to pass the time.” 

Adam pressed his palms to his eyes, but it didn’t hold back the tears. He said how sorry he was again and how that couldn’t be further from the truth. Olive didn’t know what to expect from this conversation, but it wasn’t this. Adam rarely displayed emotions, but this was raw and very real. 

He genuinely seemed remorseful. 

“I know I’m probably fucking everything up even more, but I need you to know I love you. I’m not saying it as a bargaining chip or to sway you or whatever ill-intended thing it could mean, but because I do, Olive. I want you to know in case I don’t get another chance to say it.” 

“Adam,” she frowned. 

“I mean it. I’ve never regretted anything more. I always wanted to leave Boston, but I liked BoMa too much, and Holden is here. Med school was horrible, and I’ve been constantly unhappy in this city until I met you. I met you and finally realized it wasn’t another place that would make a difference. I forgot about moving, about the grant, about Africa, and everything else. I just wanted to be with you however I could. I would have taken anything, whether that was only in the OR or outside it. You make me better. Happy. Whole.” 

Olive’s chin wobbled, wanting to believe him but not knowing if she could. It seemed too good to be true. 

“It’s hard, you know? You catapulted your way into my life, changing everything, and now you’re moving to a different continent, and—”

“I won’t accept it,” he said quickly, cutting her off. “I can, will, turn down the grant.” 

“No.” Olive’s voice was firm, leaving no room for debate. She saw the panic behind his gaze. 

“But—”

“You would do amazing things in Africa. Your proposal was phenomenal, Adam. I read the entire thing. You need to go.” 

“Not if that means losing you,” he pressed. 

Olive shook her head. “You wouldn’t be my Adam if you turned it down.” 

“Then you can come with me,” he said stubbornly, showing her a folder. “I was going to ask you anyway. We can build everything together. We’re an amazing team, and I want you with me. I—” he started talking quickly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. About houses, the local area, things they could do, what to expect, animals, and safaris—he didn’t stop until Olive made him. 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate this,” she started. 

“Please don’t do this,” he said. “I know I’ve fucked up, but we can fix this. I can fix this.” 

“You can’t fix everything,” she said gently. “And what about me? What I want? What if I don’t want to move to Africa but would rather stay here in case I can still go to med school one day?”

“Then I’ll stay, too. I—”

“Adam, you can’t plan your life around me, just like I shouldn’t have based all my decisions around you. You came into my life, and I’m a different person now. But when you leave, I’ll need to find an apartment, spare jobs again, and a surgeon to work for. I’m back to square one. That’s okay, but they’re the facts.”

“I know what I want, Olive, and that’s you. The rest of it means nothing anymore. If you want to live in Boston forever, we can do that. If you hate it here, we can leave. The rest of it means nothing to me.” 

Olive didn’t know what to make of any of this. The time Olive spent after finding out about the grant was dark. She catastrophized the reasoning he must have had for not telling her, which was the opposite of the Adam sitting before her. This Adam had his heart in his palm, begging for her forgiveness. 

“I know I’ve fucked everything up and am probably making it worse. I’ve never had a serious relationship or felt even a morsel for someone else what I feel for you. My parents didn’t talk about their feelings when I was growing up. Even if they did, I wouldn’t have known. I was surrounded by nannies or hired help because of how demanding their jobs were. 

“I don’t know how to do this, but I’m trying to tell you, to show you, but god, Olive, I’m scared. Fucking shitless. I can’t bear the thought of my life going back to how it was before we met on that damn balcony. Not that you should make your decision based on that, but I’m trying to be honest. 

“You’re funny, beautiful, intelligent—I love the way you aren’t scared of me and throw it right back. You’re the first person whose knees didn’t quake when they walked into my OR. I never thought I had a person until we met, and I never realized what my life and my OR were missing until you walked in. You’re my safe space. My happy place. I love you so damn much, and I can’t let that go without a fight.” 

Olive had tears rolling down her cheeks, overwhelmed. She couldn’t make a decision right now. Not with so many emotions coursing through her. 

“I need to think.” 

His cheeks flushed, looking at the hallway entrance. “Okay. Are you safe? I can leave if you want to stay here.” 

“I’m somewhere safe, don’t worry,” she said, softening. 

He nodded. “Will you let me know if you need anything?”

She agreed, knowing she wouldn’t dare. 

“Are you…” He looked at his hands, then back to Olive. “Will you be back Monday?”

“I will. I’m sorry for calling off.” 

Adam shook his head. “You need to take care of yourself first, though everyone missed you.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said, wanting him to know.

“I know. Regardless, it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault. It’s just unfortunate circumstances. If my past didn’t make me so anxious, I might not have run the way I did. Cocooning myself is the only way I know to keep myself safe.” 

“And I did that to you,” he breathed, his eyes watering again. It was too much, seeing him so sad. She forced her hands to remain at her sides. 

“When would you be leaving?”

“You sound like you already know you don’t want to come. I’d understand, but please tell me if that’s the case. I mean it, Olive. I’ll stay. If you let me, I’ll turn everything down and stay with you.” 

“I don’t know what I want yet, I promise. I wouldn’t string you along or play with your feelings.” 

“If you don’t want to come, can we talk about me staying?” 

“Adam, you have to accept this. It’s massive. Phenomenal. And to be awarded the MacArthur grant twice? That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” 

Adam shut down, accepting her words. He buried his psyche deep inside himself, forcing his features to be blank. She hated it. She wanted her Adam back and for all this to be fixed. 

“They asked if I would consider moving in at the beginning of the year or spring at the latest, once the logistics have been finalized.” 

There it was—their deadline. Olive’s heart twisted, not expecting to hear she only had months left. What would she do when she couldn’t see him every day anymore? When she would be moved to another surgeon’s service and have to pretend to be happy. Worse, when she would find an apartment of her own, never to enjoy coffee or domestic bliss with him again. 

“That’s…great, Adam. So exciting.” 

“May I ask something?”

“Anything.” 

“I know it’s not pertinent, but how did you find out? I hadn’t checked my email. We didn’t have service all weekend, so I missed their calls, and…Holden was sent a text from a coworker. I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s not important since I should have told you before now.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Olive said gently. 

“I don’t think you could hurt me more than I’ve hurt myself,” he pointed out. 

“Tom emailed me.” 

The silence was deafening. Every possible emotion flashed across his face, and Olive felt it all as if it were hers. He was rubbing his chest absentmindedly. With that statement, Olive had sufficiently snuffed out any light that was left in his features. 

“I trust you more than him. You know that. My running had nothing to do with Tom. I was panicking, and…it was just a mess in my head.” 

Adam nodded, unable to speak. 

When she walked out his door, she left what was left of her heart with him. 

🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼 🏥 🥼

Olive splurged, buying herself a pumpkin spice latte. She went to sit in the Common, wanting to clear her head. Sitting on a bench, she felt none the wiser. An old couple walked past, hand in hand. Not long after, a young boy shyly held his date’s hand, who looked elated. It reminded Olive  of the first time Adam held hers. 

The elation and warmth she felt and the want for more. 

Her thoughts drifted back to how sad he seemed when she left his house. Things would never be the same again, but was that such a bad thing? Maybe it was good that everything was being brought out in the open. They could make things work and find a new normal, somehow. 

That pesky voice in her head reminded her that things would only work if Olive moved to Africa too. She meant what she said to him. Adam needed to go. This was a huge honor and he could do wonders to the communities that would benefit from his help. 

Did she mean what she said about herself, though? Olive hadn’t thought of med school in a couple of weeks. She was too fixated on enjoying her work as it was and the new life she was building. 

“Dr. Smith,” she mused. Olive used to dream of hearing those words. Now she dreamt of being happy. Malcolm sat next to her on the bench.

“How’d it go, Kalamata?”

She sighed, still sorting through her thoughts. “I don’t want to be mediocre.” 

“Is that what Carlsen said?”

“Of course not. Adam’s devastated. It was sad. He’d do anything to fix things.” 

“Then where did that come from?”

“I’m not sure,” she huffed. “My life is so different now to what I thought it would be. Sometimes I worry about selling out or settling.” 

“You’re allowed to change,” he frowned. “Everyone grows as they get older.” 

“True.” 

“I guess I learned young how quickly time goes and the way things can change in an instant. I’m terrified of looking back one day and regretting my decisions. The things I did or didn’t do. You know? I came to Boston to go to med school at Harvard. What happens if I don’t honor that? My original plan?”

“I think that depends on whether making a new decision would make you happy,” Malcolm said slowly. “No one can tell you what’s right or wrong for you, Ol. But I think it’s important to acknowledge how much you’ve grown even in the short time I’ve known you. You have to do what’s right for you. If your wants and wishes have changed, that doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

“Wants and wishes,” she grinned, thinking of Pride and Prejudice. “Elizabeth changed for Mr. Darcy, and vice versa. Look at them.” 

Malcolm snorted. “You and Anh are going to be the death of me when it comes to that film.” 

“It’s cinematic gold,” she argued. “It’s one of the best stories of all time.” 

“Elizabeth made Darcy a better person,” he pointed out. 

Olive rolled her eyes. “I haven’t made Adam a better person.” 

“I respectfully disagree. You’ve enhanced the positive emotions that were already there. He buried them too deep for anyone else to find, but you did. I never thought I’d see him smile.”

“Darcy helped her, too,” Olive said quietly. 

“They made a good team, in the end. But that was what Elizabeth wanted.” 

Chapter Text

“Excuse me!” A man called. 

Olive looked around, but no one else was in the hallway. He must have been calling after her. The problem was, she had never seen him before. Maybe he was a lost patron. 

“Hello,” she smiled. It felt fake and awkward. “May I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m trying to find Dr. Adam Carlsen. I was in the gallery, and you looked like the woman on his left. Was that you?”

A shot to the heart. Lovely. 

“Yes. I’m Dr. Carlsen’s surgical assistant.” 

“Perfect!” he beamed. His silver hair was perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place, and his smile was wide. “Can you help me find him? I swear, that boy is impossible to track down sometimes. He’ll give his mother and me an aneurysm one day. I’m his father, Dean.”

She shook his hand, stunned. Olive thought his nose and features resembled Adam’s, but she had been thinking about him so much that she assumed she was seeing what she wanted. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Carlsen. I’d be happy to help.”

“He never picks up his phone,” his father admonishes. “Just the other week, we found out on the news that he was moving to Africa. Can you believe it? The news.”

“Oh, the grant! That’s been the talk of the town.” Olive prayed that she sounded aloof and easygoing. Anything opposite to how she felt. 

“We finally got him on the phone and when we asked him about it, he said he forgot. I asked him how anyone could forget something as monumental as this, and he said he finally felt happy in Boston, and the interview process is so extensive it slipped his mind.” He shook his head, chuckling. “That boy. He always did his own thing, even growing up. A lawyer for a father and diplomat for a mother, and he runs off to neurosurgery and now Africa. Not that I’m not proud, of course. But I never would have guessed it. He practically lives in these ORs. How long have you been his surgical assistant?”

Olive’s heart was pounding. She wanted to cry and then beg for more information. Why was he happy in Boston now? Did he really forget? It was the same thing he said to her and Holden. Adam had always been a straight shooter and honest to a T. 

“Not long. Since the beginning of September,” she hesitated, wondering how honest she should be. “We’re dating, sort of—Adam and I.” 

Dean looked shocked. Adam hadn’t said anything, then. “Are you Olive?”

“I am,” she said, surprised. Maybe he had said something. Hope bloomed in her chest. 

“You said sort of. Are you not dating him now?” His tone was tentative and curious.

“I also didn’t know about Africa,” she grimaced. “It caught me off guard. We’re…trying to figure things out. Limbo, I guess.” 

He nodded, understanding. They fell silent, with Dean seemingly curious about Olive and Olive doing her best not to cry. 

“I’m sure you two will figure things out.” 

He was kind. Not unlike his son, she thought. 

“We will. Adam’s a good person. You and Mrs. Carlsen must be proud.” 

“We are. He’s always thinking of others, though he’d probably want you to believe the opposite.” 

“You know him well. This is his office,” she said, knocking on the door. “If he’s not in here, I can think of a few other places he might be.” 

Adam’s voice rang from the other side, telling them to come in. He sounded tired and empty, the way Olive felt. He stood quickly when she appeared in the door frame, his chair spinning behind him.

“Olive.” The surprise and worry were evident, worsening when he saw his dad. Adam’s face went pale, looking between them. “Dad.” 

“I was just chatting with Olive here,” Dean said, one eyebrow raised. “We met in the hallway, and she helped me find you.” 

“Ah, right. Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem. I’ll give you two some space. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Carlsen.”

“You too, Olive. I hope to see you again soon.” 

“Likewise,” she said lightly. Seeing him again would probably never happen. Taking a fortifying breath, she looked at Adam. His features were entirely blank, save for his fisted hand, as though he were still retreated deep within himself, to wherever he went last week. She couldn’t bear to say his name, but calling him Dr. Carlsen in front of his dad could be taken as a jab. “I’m going to finish up some post-op notes. Do you need anything?”

He shook his head, his lips pressed in a flat line. This was the first time they had spoken or been in the same room other than the OR since their last conversation. It was only days ago, but it felt like longer. So many pending decisions were hanging between them, sparking in the air.

“Why don’t I give you two a moment?” Dean asked and strode out the door before they could respond. Olive wasn’t sure what to say first. There were several things she wanted to say, but it didn’t feel like the place or time. Adam cut through the quiet.

“I didn’t know he was here. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It was nice to meet him. You look like him a little.” 

“I hope he wasn’t a dick,” Adam muttered. 

“He wasn’t. He’s funny. Chatty. He cares a lot about you. It was sweet.” 

“He’s quite the character,” Adam nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. “Are you—”

“May I—”

“Sorry. You first,” Adam said.

She didn’t know what possessed her to say it. “I was going to ask if I could hug you. I just…I miss—” 

There wasn’t a chance to finish because she was engulfed in his arms, pressed against his chest. It felt so good to be back in his embrace. Adam didn’t speak, but his care for her emanated in the way he held her close. He cradled her head and pressed his face into her hair. Olive could feel him shaking, his breathing shallow. Olive couldn’t help but run her hands through the same strands she had been admiring mere nights before, and then moved to cup his jaw. Adam squeezed reflexively. His usually bright and excited eyes were full of sadness and hints of fear. Olive opened her mouth, wanting to reassure him, when a light knock rapped on the door. 

“We’ll talk soon, okay?” Olive said, her voice wobbling. She ran her thumbs over his cheeks before standing on her toes, kissing the same spot. Olive repeated her goodbyes once Dean returned and left, more devastated than she had been all morning. 

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Adam’s dad whistled when the door shut, long and low. “You’ve got yourself in a pickle, son.” 

“What do you want?” He was too tired for games. That hug was everything he needed, yet he was more broken than before it happened. The spot on his cheek she kissed was burning. The thought it could be the last one they shared was haunting. 

“Olive seems lovely. I think your Mom will like her, too.” 

Oh, good. Another dagger to the heart. His dad liked the woman he was in love with, who hated his guts. “She’s amazing, but I doubt she’ll be meeting Mom.” 

“Hmm. I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

“What do you want, Dad? Olive is my surgical assistant.” Adam was getting irritated. He didn’t want to hash out how badly he had fucked up with Olive to his father. He wanted to wallow in despair alone. He hummed again. Adam rolled his jaw. Fucking parents sometimes. “What?”

He shrugged, indifferent. “It’s just interesting. You’re saying she’s your surgical assistant, and to be fair, she did introduce herself to me as that until she found out I was your father.” 

Adam’s heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to hope but couldn’t.

“Is this going somewhere?”

“She told me you were dating, sort of. Her words, not mine.”

“She said that?” Adam asked quickly, stunned. He could feel color in his cheeks, embarassed to be having this conversation with his dad. 

“She sure did. I asked if she wasn’t dating you now.”

“What did she say?” He pressed. 

“Don’t you think you should be having this conversation with her?” He asked smugly. “Besides, you’re a busy man. You haven’t even answered any of my calls and texts in days. We should talk about work before you run off to Narnia again.” 

“Please?”

“All she said was that she also didn’t know about Africa. She said you were in limbo, trying to figure things out.”

Adam was so relieved he could cry. If Olive had been set on not being with him, she would have said that.  

“Adam, how could you not tell that poor girl you were potentially moving to another continent?”

“I forgot,” he said for what felt like the millionth time. “I know everyone doesn’t believe me, but I swear to you, I completely forgot. The interview process is intermittent and takes years. There was every chance someone else would get the grant, and I hadn’t heard from the committee for months. I met Olive, and…” he shrugged, helpless. 

“You really did forget,” his dad chuckled. “I’ll be damned.”  

“Did she say anything else?”

“Nope. I think you should talk to her, though. Poor thing looked like she wanted to cry. So do you, for that matter.” 

“Thanks so much for the support,” he said dryly. 

“You two work together well. Your surgery was impressive. You’re a good team. Most of the time, it seemed like you didn’t need to speak. You just reacted to each other like a symphony. It was harmonious in a beautiful way.” 

“I didn’t realize you were in the gallery.” 

“I figured I better come here and talk to my son in person since you wouldn’t accept my calls.” 

“Right. Sorry. It’s been a rough few days. Did you need something?”

“I’m here because of Olive, ironically. I didn’t want to tell her that because you two don’t seem to be speaking. Have you told her about what we discussed?”

“No,” he flushed. “I didn’t know what the outcome would be. The more I thought about everything, the more worried I became. I didn’t want to get her hopes up.” 

“You have backed yourself into a corner,” he muttered, dropping a large manila envelope on his desk. “I would think long and hard about what you want to say before giving her this.” 

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Adam was sitting on his couch, his head in his hands. It was deserved. The choices that brought him to this moment were selfish. His dad was right, telling him he needed to think long and hard about things. He knew that now and could openly acknowledge it. Olive was right. Everything had been about him and his choices. His wants, needs, and decisions. Nothing had been about her, yet everything was about her. Adam wanted to help Olive, but never took her opinion into consideration. Now, it was time to pay the price. 

The chance of Olive not coming to Africa was extremely high. He knew that, and he was sure she knew that. She just didn’t want to hurt him. She had said so herself. That only left one thing—Adam needed to let her go. 

The manila envelope in his hands would give her freedom. She deserved that. He also wanted to ensure she’d have a fighting chance to chase her dreams. Adam knew Harvard all too well. She may have been accepted once, but having to decline their offer for any reason would give her a hurdle to overcome if she wanted a second. They were too prideful to be understanding. 

Grabbing his laptop, Adam began typing. He wasn’t infallible, but a letter of recommendation from him would go far. After all, he was Adam Carlsen and a former Harvard graduate—the double kill. He wrote and edited as long as necessary until it was perfect. Until his eyes were burning, and he realized it was almost two in the morning. 

He printed and signed a few copies, adding it to the envelope. He threw in a flash drive with a digital copy in case she wanted to personalize it later. Whatever would help her, he would do. His chest felt hollow. It was more than a broken heart because his heart was gone. 

Adam hated himself and his choices. For pushing away the only woman he had ever loved and likely ever would. He had finally felt true joy and never stopped to consider that wasn’t what Olive was feeling, too. The thought he was alone in his happiness was unfathomable. 

All he could think as he lay on his bed was everyone’s congratulations on how he had achieved the unachievable—the way they all oohed and ahhed over his accomplishments. He may have gained the respect of strangers, but he lost the chance at forever with the one person who mattered. 

Chapter Text

During their surgery, Olive felt clarity sink deep into her bones. They were operating on a younger patient—a woman who was Olive’s age. She had just turned twenty-four and was diagnosed with Moyamoya disease. It was a rare neurological disorder that Olive hadn’t experienced yet, and Adam had only worked on a handful of times because there were so few patients. 

They operated for eight hours, completing a revascularization surgery in hopes it would slow the progression of the disease and lessen their patient’s symptoms. The goal was to bypass the blocked arteries to restore the blood flow and hopefully stop her seizures. 

Adam and Olive barely spoke. They kept things professional, of course, but it was more than that. The day before, he still tried to keep things light and easy, but he didn’t speak at all today. He looked at Olive with a contented resignation as though he had been relieved of a great burden. 

Olive didn’t know if it was good or bad. 

But by the sixth hour, she could finally sort through the thoughts swirling in her mind since yesterday. She left Adam’s office, her mind a jumbled mess. Now, it was crystal clear. 

She was terrified by what Adam did because she was scared to be alone again, especially after falling in love with him slowly and all at once. The loss of that terrified her. But since the news broke, he had done nothing but try and reassure Olive. She knew he was being honest, and he didn’t withhold that information for any malicious intent.  

Everything still caught her off guard, but so had he. Olive was following a strict plan, convinced doing so would restore order in her life, until Adam. She met Adam, and her plans went out the window. He worked his way into every nook and cranny she had until he consumed her. But hadn’t that been for the better? Since she met him, her life improved. 

She gained some weight back and, in turn, had more energy. 

She wasn’t alone anymore, knowing he would always be at her side. 

She loved her job, looking forward to helping patients and learning something new every day. 

She had color on her face again and was always laughing. 

But above all, she had real love back in her life. 

Olive had always wanted to be a doctor so she could impact lives the way hers was impacted when she was young. The clinical trial hadn’t been successful, but it did buy her extra weeks with her mom, which she would never forget. But wasn’t she doing that every day with Adam?

He always brought her to talk with the family, good or bad. They changed lives and helped their patients smile again. They delivered hope on a silver platter when all hope had been lost. 

Did it matter if she wasn’t the one doing the operating or had the title? Not to her as long as she could keep doing what she was doing now. And wasn’t that what Adam was offering her? He made it clear he wanted her at his side in the OR and out, wherever they were. 

For Olive, that was more than enough. Beyond that, she didn’t want to live her life without him in it. She had years of loneliness and fear, but she could have a lifetime of happiness and joy with Adam. Nothing he had done was malicious. He was a product of his upbringing, quietly making sure those he loved were cared for and happy so they didn’t feel the pain he felt for so long. Olive wanted to be that person for Adam in return. Forever, if she were lucky. 

All she needed to do was tell him. 

Her heart soared as she looked at him through the window. Adam started scrubbing out, seemingly tired but pleased. He looked handsome in his scrubs, the way he always did. It was a view Olive wanted for as long as she could, and she hoped she wasn’t too late. 

“Hey,” she smiled. 

“How are you holding up? This was a long one.” 

“I’m okay. You must be tired, though.” 

“Nah.” 

Their conversation stalled, and neither made a move to change that. Olive was rehearsing what she wanted to tell him, knowing this wasn’t the place. Too many people could walk in at any moment. Adam was wiping his arms off, and Olive noted how they flexed and remembered what it was like to be caged in by them. She wanted to experience it again. 

“You don’t have to come talk to the family with me if you have things you’d rather do.” 

Her smile faltered. He hadn’t done that before. “I’d like to come, as long as you don’t mind. I enjoy doing that with you.” 

“Sure.” He smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. The ride in the elevator was worse. Adam stood on the opposite wall, his arms crossed and head down. Panic started to gnaw in her belly. Was she too late?

Adam spoke to the family quickly, and Olive felt more like an ornament than ever. They were overjoyed, of course, running off to their daughter’s room after giving their thanks. She and Adam parted ways. He hadn’t even said goodbye. He turned and walked away. Nothing more. 

All her good feelings were fading but not gone. She stood in the waiting room, weighing her options before heading to Starbucks. She ordered a pumpkin spice latte and a black coffee and headed to his office. 

He didn’t answer her first knock or second. Olive opened the door, poking her head through. 

“Hello? Adam?”

Adam walked out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind him, completely oblivious. He was wearing unbuttoned dress pants with the band of his boxer briefs showing at the top but nothing else, his muscles flexing as he toweled his hair off and bare feet poking through. 

“Sorry,” she breathed. “I just—”

Adam jumped, looking at her. “Olive, fuck. Sorry.” He buttoned his pants and fastened his belt, pulling his undershirt on. “I didn’t know you were in here.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I didn’t realize you had a bathroom. I always thought that was a coat closet. Are you going somewhere?”

He was pulling on a dress shirt, buttoning everything quickly, his tie hanging between his teeth. “One second.” 

Olive wanted to run. This was a horrible idea—one of her worst to date. “I’ll just go. I shouldn’t have intruded. I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

“No. Stay.” He was put together now, albeit with a pale pink in his cheeks. His dress pants were perfectly pressed, as was his blazer. His tie was in a perfect knot. He had plans for tonight. That was clear. 

“I’m sorry. This was wrong, and I had no right to enter without your consent.”

“Did you need something?” 

“Nah. Nope. Have a nice evening, and I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Is that coffee?” His brows were furrowed. 

“No,” she croaked. Adam looked at his watch. He seemed on edge like he didn’t want her to be here.  

“I’m due to meet someone shortly. Is everything okay?”

A date. He was going on a date. That was the only explanation. Olive needed to leave before he left, or worse, they came to his office.  

“Sounds great. I hope you have a good time. I’m on call and forgot you weren’t. I’ll throw this out.” 

“You’re not on call,” he said. God, how did he know? He had never been so matter-of-fact with her. No emotions, just business. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Did you have questions for me?”

She shook her head, unable to think of an excuse. Her hands were shaking, and Adam took pity on her. He grabbed the drinks tray, careful not to touch her hands, and set them on his desk.  

“Sit, please. If you do, I can do my best to answer them. My Dad might be more equipt. His card should have been in there.” 

Olive sat, not knowing what else to do. Her mind was reeling. She was dizzy and confused, having no idea what he was talking about. “His card is where?”

“In the envelope. I believe it should have been attached at the top.” 

“Envelope?” What were they even talking about? It didn’t matter. Olive needed to leave. Adam stared at her, showing a hint of emotion. She couldn’t parse it. Hope, maybe?

He cleared his throat. “Are you not here because of the envelope I left for you?”

“Left where?”

“In your cubby,” he frowned. “In the surgical assistant’s room.” 

“Oh. I haven’t been there since I got here. If you dropped it off before then, I might have missed it. I’m sorry. I can go check if you…?” She thumbed at the door, jumping at the chance. 

Adam stared, lips parting. “Right. Nevermind. Why did you bring me coffee?”

“I don’t know. Moment of madness,” she joked, grinning, even though her insides were rioting. “You should probably leave for your date soon, and look at the time! I need to go. I’ll let you know if I have any questions about the envelope. Thanks for whatever it is! Bye!” 

Olive moved to grab her latte, needing the comfort only pumpkin spice could bring, but found herself holding Adam’s hand instead. Correction. Adam was holding her hand, gripping it tightly. Just as he was about to speak, there was a knock on the door. Six thirty on the dot. 

“Wait here.” 

Olive opened her mouth to protest again, but nothing came out. Like a car crash destined to ruin her, Olive couldn’t help but turn to look—a flash of blonde and a red stiletto. It was the device rep she had been jealous of weeks ago. Her appetite was replaced with nausea, and she did what she could to sink into her chair. 

“I need a few minutes, and I’ll meet you in the front. Thanks.” 

This was beyond embarrassing. Olive had interrupted his date, and now he was going to have to let her down gently. She downed her latte, formulated an escape plan, and threw the cup in the trash. She stood the moment the door closed. 

“I’m sorry. This was inappropriate of me. I should go, and I hope you two have a nice evening.” 

“It’s a business meeting. Not a date.” 

“You don’t have to do that. You’re welcome to—”

“The grant committee set it up. I can show you the emails. Their company is interested in a sponsorship or something.” 

Olive hated herself for it, but she burst into tears, relieved. 

“Sweetheart. I would never—” Adam shook his head, taking steps forward to comfort her. He stopped, likely remembering that it was no longer his place. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. Sorry. This is dumb,” she said, fanning her face. 

“Olive.” He said her name the way he always did, as though it was sacred and precious—the best part of his world.

Everything came out in a catastrophic rush. Not at all what she had rehearsed. “I wanted to tell you that I love you, too, and I want to come to Africa with you. I know we haven’t been together long, and I’m sorry for needing so much time to sort through my thoughts. It just caught me off guard, and I was scared and worried about not following my dreams, but my dreams have changed, and that’s okay, too. Life is just really hard and confusing, but I love you. I want to be with you, drinking coffee, baking, and doing whatever we want to do, regardless of where we are. I’m okay with not being a doctor because the magic we make together is more than enough. I want to be by your side and operate with you and tell the families the good news and—” Olive paused, taking a deep breath. She was devastated to see the walls closing on Adam as he shook his head.

“No. Olive, you shouldn’t. Everything you said was true. I had been selfish and should have asked your opinion. I steamrolled situations because I wanted to fix everything. That wasn’t right. You always made it clear you were here to go to med school. You should do that.” 

“You were trying to help me. You weren’t steamrolling. I don’t want to go to med school anymore. I want—”

“The envelope in your locker might change your mind,” Adam said, rolling his jaw. His hands were fisted in his pockets. He seemed resolute. He didn’t want her back. 

“You don’t want to be with me,” she said, realization dawning. 

Adam let out a choking sound as though the idea was painful. As though he had never heard anything more absurd. 

“Then why—”

Adam’s phone rang, and he bent to answer. “Carlsen.” Olive assumed there was talking on the other end, but Adam gave nothing away. “No problem. I hope your daughter feels better.” He hung up the phone, yanking at his tie and unbuttoning the top buttons. “My plans were canceled, thank God. She wanted to go to an oyster bar. Do you want dinner?”

“What?”

“Food. Are you hungry?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Believe me, Olive. I want nothing more than to believe you and kiss you and thank you for forgiving me, but I can’t. You need to have all the facts before you can—”

“I have all the facts I need,” she snapped. “I love you and want to build a life with you. In Africa or here. I don’t care. I wanted to be a doctor to make a difference and help people. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I don’t want to spend the next however long alone, without you. Those are the only relevant facts.” 

Adam looked torn like he desperately wanted to accept her words but couldn’t. 

“This is what you wanted a few days ago,” Olive said, needing to understand. “What changed?”

“Nothing. Of course, I…the envelope. I should apologize now because I invaded your privacy again, but I didn’t know how it would go and was worried about getting your hopes up. My father did a favor. What happened with your debt was illegal. 

“Inside, you’ll find a check for the amount you paid, various tax forms, and whatever my dad had filed against the hospital. The remaining debt has been removed from your record. There’s nothing left to pay.

“I wrote you recommendation letters for Harvard and any hospital you want to apply to. You can probably use the money for tuition and shouldn’t be denied aid again. There’s also a letter from myself explaining a few things in greater detail.” 

Olive was stunned into silence. She hadn’t known what to expect when he brought up the envelope initially, but it wasn’t this. She didn’t think it was possible. Adam stood there, biting the inside of his cheek. The light in his eyes dimmed as the moments ticked by. 

Everything he did for her was hitting Olive like a freight train. Adam was a fixer at heart. He quite literally fixed people’s bodies for work, taking them apart and putting them back together, making them as good as new. In his personal life, he flitted about from person to person, doing what he could in a quiet manner to make their life easier. 

She saw him do it for Holden, Malcolm, and even his parents. The circle of people in his life was small, but he had welcomed Olive into it with open arms, not a moment’s hesitation. In a month, he single-handedly solved every one of her problems, giving her a platform to leap from. 

Well, that wasn’t true. Adam had solved every problem but one, and that was up to Olive to change. Stepping forward on a burst of courage, Olive flung her arms around his neck, pressing her lips against his. 

Chapter Text

Adam was frozen. Whether it was from shock or fear, she wasn’t sure. She was praying it wasn’t because he didn’t want this anymore. When she nipped his bottom lip, the tension in his body dissipated like a rubber band snap, and he came alive. 

He kissed her back like it had been all he thought of, convinced he’d never get another chance. Olive was pressed against him as flush as she could be, but it wasn’t enough. Adam moaned into her mouth, pushing Olive against the wall and caging her in his arms. He moved far enough that he was able to lock the door, sealing their fate as the sound of the deadbolt reverberated in the room. 

Olive scraped her nails through his hair, opening her mouth for his entry. His tongue swept across hers, heating their kiss several degrees. She nipped his bottom lip, sneaking her hands beneath his shirt. He hummed, pulling his mouth away, and kissed her neck. 

“I love you, Adam,” she breathed. “I promise.” 

He was still so torn. “Are you sure? You don’t want to look at everything first?”

Olive assured him she didn’t, but he still looked like there was a war behind his gaze. Adam was breathing hard, and his eyes were closed as though he were trying to convince himself that this was okay. Olive pressed up on her toes, kissing his neck and nipping his earlobe. His grip on her waist was like iron.

She kept peppering kisses wherever she could, slowly undoing some of the buttons on his shirt to access his chest. Finally, he responded, hauling her into his arms and carrying her to the couch. Olive straddled him, unbuttoning his other buttons while he tugged at her top, tossing it to the ground. Adam was quiet the first time they had sex, but this time, he couldn’t stop murmuring into her skin. A valve had opened, and words wouldn’t stop tumbling out of him.

He told her how much he loved her.

How sorry he was.

Things in Dutch that she didn’t understand, but sounded beautiful and seductive. 

How grateful he was to have a chance to prove himself. 

That Olive was everything he wanted, inside and out. That being with her felt like coming home.

Adam was kissing her everywhere he could, helping her pull his pants down before tugging her panties to the side. Olive helped line him up at her entrance before lowering herself onto him, inch by glorious inch. The satisfied sound that left Adam when he was seated fully inside her healed something in Olive that had broken over the past few days. He stayed still, waiting until she was comfortable. 

He felt impossibly deep in this position, invading her every sense. When she had finally adjusted, Olive nodded, promising she was okay. Adam pulled out, dragging his cock out of her slowly, before slamming into her hard and fast. Olive’s breath stuttered, and she slapped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle any noise. They were at work, after all. This was highly inappropriate, and—

Her hand did nothing to quiet the moan when Adam repeated the motion. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady. It was as if all the blood was gone from her brain. All she felt was dizziness, pleasure, and the warmth of Adam. 

“Let them hear you, Sweetheart. You are so beautiful.” 

Olive’s body bloomed at his words, relaxing into him further. When they started, she was planning on running the show, riding Adam until he could no longer take it. Reality was much different. Adam was in control and playing her body like a fiddle, chasing pleasure for them both. Her breasts were the perfect height for his mouth, and he took full advantage. She’d have marks all over her when they were done; evidence of their lovemaking. 

He set a bruising pace, the sound of their skin meeting over and over filling the room. She could feel every ridge of him inside her, massaging the sensitive spots in her channel as he went. Adam was circling her clit with the pad of his thumb again, egging her on and begging that she come with him. 

It was a request Olive was more than willing to accommodate. Adam bit down on her shoulder as she came in waves, milking his spend and making him shudder beneath her. He was murmuring praises, telling her how good this felt, how right it was, and again, how much he loved her, swearing not to go another day without saying so. 

Olive was coming down from her high, feeling idly like a feather falling slowly toward the ground. Adam slipped out of her before grabbing tissues to help clean her up. She didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened at the sight of his come on her thighs. The word ‘mine’ was flitting behind his irises. 

Her legs wobbled as she stood, grabbing her clothes and pulling them on. Olive took a steadying breath. Adam was assessing her, looking perfectly manicured once again, sans tie. His eyes glanced toward the threshold. Did he think she was going to bolt out the door? It was possible, since that’s exactly what she wanted to do. They just had groundbreaking sex, and Olive felt her insides rioting. The need to get away before something else bad happened, just like last time was warring with the desire to be as close to him as possible. 

“Come home with me?”

She didn’t miss the hesitation or how tentative his tone was. It wasn’t hard to realize things were still raw between them. His entire being relaxed when she nodded, and grabbing her hand after a lingering kiss to her forehead, they left his office. 

"Thank you," he said quietly. For what, she wasn't sure. Forgiving him? Coming home? Holding his hand? Everything, perhaps. She kissed his bicep in response. 

They stopped by the surgical assistant’s room so Olive could gather her things and retrieve the envelope in question. As they were leaving, they ran into Tom. He started at the sight of them hand in hand, clearly surprised. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth folded into a frown before it shifted into a sinister smile.

“Hey, Olive. Good to see you again. I haven’t seen you around since our conversation in the elevator. Did you get my email?”

“I did. It wasn’t anything I didn’t already know,” she said coolly, squeezing Adam’s hand ever so tightly. She was lying through her teeth, but refused to give Tom the satisfaction. He snorted, rolling his eyes. 

“Sure. Best of luck to you, then.” 

Olive saw the medical director out of the corner of her eye, looking furious with an envelope and the hospital’s attorney in tow. A rueful smirk touched her lips before she could stop it. “I think I don’t need it, but best of luck to you.” 

She glanced again at the party headed toward them, then back to Tom. His brows were furrowed, and his arms were crossed, staring at the incomers, gesturing for him to stay. Olive waggled her fingers in a mock wave goodbye. 

“Good night, Tom." 

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Once they were outside, Adam tugged her into his side. “What was that about?”

They were walking home, though Olive wished she could have stayed to watch the show. Revenge tasted oh so sweet. 

“Did you know I’m friends with most of the nurses?”

“I did not,” he admitted, still confused. “What does that have to do with Tom?”

“They used to come into the bar all the time. We became friends—work friends—and they used to always say hi in the hospital. They’d let me sit with them in the cafeteria, things like that. They, um…” Olive huffed out a laugh, memories flitting through her mind. “They like to chat.” 

“Gossip, you mean.” 

It was a well-known fact. 

“Yes,” she grinned. “Especially the plastic surgery team, when they’ve had a drink or two at the bar. Sometimes they weren’t talking to me, but it was impossible not to hear their conversations. I was pretty upset with Tom because of how much he’s hurt you, and the whole email thing.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, again.”

“Don’t be, but I’m sorry too.” 

Adam shook his head. “So they talked to you about Tom?”

“Not exactly. They talked about Tom. When I met him when I was with you, I realized he was the Tom I had heard so much about.” 

Adam eyed her warily. “Good things?”

She snorted. “Hell no. He was horrible to all of them and a nightmare to work with. But most of them were too scared to say anything. Boston is expensive, and the thought of being fired or blackballed in the industry was enough to keep them silent. But it was enough for me to do some digging of my own. Plus, they were happy to talk and provide whatever they had, as long as they didn’t have to be the whistleblower.” 

He sucked in a breath. “What did you do?”

“It’s not what did I do. It’s what did he do. I merely passed along an anonymous tip,” she said innocently. 

His lips twitched, but she could see the concern in his eyes. “And what did this tip entail?”

“Evidence, and anonymous written statements. He was assaulting several of the female staff members. Not rape,” she added quickly, “but still just as bad. They were petrified. He also used their codes for improper medicine disposal in order to—”

“What?” 

“Mhmm. It was bad. Not to mention the medical records being misconstrued because of it. Plus, there have been several strongly worded patient complaints that were buried. On top of that, did you know he was addicted to cocaine? I realized I had seen him before. His supplier frequented the bar. A drug test may have been recommended.” 

“Holy shit.” 

“His license is probably being revoked,” she said lightly. 

“I would fucking hope so. He—” Adam stopped, taking a deep breath.

“I know,” Olive nodded, squeezing his hand. “He’s the worst, but neither you nor anyone else will need to worry about him now, and his future is not your problem. His reign of terror should have ended at Harvard.” 

Adam seemed too stunned for words, likely thinking about that time of his life. She didn’t mind the quiet, having a lot to think about herself. They took the long way home, walking through a park instead of the sidewalk, enjoying the tranquility. When they reached his door, Olive felt a sense of calm wash over her. 

“Where are your things?” He asked, helping her out of her jacket. 

“Malcolm and Holden will be bringing my suitcase over soon.” 

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Holden and Malcolm were standing by the threshold with wide grins, holding bags of food in one hand and her suitcase in the other. 

“We come bearing gifts and gossip,” Holden said excitedly. 

“You’ll never guess what happened when we were leaving,” Malcolm said, putting food on the counters. Adam and Olive glanced at each other, an understanding passing through them both. They oohed and ahhed at their friend’s story, acting none the wiser. Adam squeezed her hip in a silent ‘thank you’.

They regaled Adam and Olive with the dramatic effects of Tom’s loud departure, wondering who on earth submitted the tip. 

“They must have been pretty pissed off,” Olive mused. “A nurse, perhaps?”

“That’s what we were thinking,” they nodded. 

News spread around the hospital quickly. Tom didn’t go without a fight, and apparently had a lot to say. In the end, the evidence was overwhleming, and damning. Though no one knew for sure, word on the street was he would never be allowed to practice medicine again. Several staff members talked about throwing a party, according to Malcolm. 

“At the bar,” he said, gesturing to Olive. “Do you still work there?”

“Nope!” 

“Perfect. You can come with this time, Kalamata.” 

“Eat up, you little shit. Olive’s back. Why are you so quiet? I even brought you kale,” he taunted, waving the offending leaf in front of Adam.

“It’s been a nice evening. You haven’t told any embarrassing stories about me today.” 

“Liar. You’re thinking about Africa.” 

“I’m not,” he shrugged, and he seemed to mean it. Though he was happy, there was a weariness in him. An underlying tension in his neck. Perhaps the fear that Olive would change her mind. She wasn’t sure.

“Well, I am,” she grinned, kissing his cheek. “Can we go on a safari?”

Adam frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sweetheart, you do realize that it’s possible dead animals would also be seen, correct? Or if there’s an animal hunting while—”

Olive shushed him. “That is a later problem, Dr. Carlsen.”

“Will you FaceTime me? I’ve always wanted to go. I won’t care what time it is,” Malcolm said excitedly. 

“Actually,” Adam started, getting up to grab two more manila folders from his desk before sliding them across the table. “I think you two would look good in Africa.” 

Chapter Text

Two years had flown by—two amazing, gloriously fulfilled years. Adam and Olive had fallen in love with their home in Africa, having become close with some of the locals and nearby tribes wherever they did outreach. Adam’s clinic had been a resounding success for all who came, but also provided a lot of insight for researchers with whom he had been working closely. 

Malcolm and Holden readily accepted their positions as well, which had also been critical to the success of the clinic. Adam couldn’t thank them enough, and Olive loved every second the four of them spent together. And time spent together was definitely had. In their free time, they hiked to see gorillas, went on multiple safari trips in different countries, tried new foods, enjoyed days at the ocean, and explored markets with delight. 

Though they loved the history and museums, the Great Pyramids weren’t as fun as they expected. They had a great time, but according to Holden, it was just like Pisa. There was nothing else there. 

They spent more time under the Milky Way than Olive ever expected she would, and loved every second. The nature was so tranquil, it was impossible not to be deeply rooted wherever they were. She squealed when she met penguins on the beach in South Africa, having been surprised by Adam. 

All in all, things were perfect, but all good things must come to an end. 

Adam splurged for the four of them to go to a luxury safari retreat in the Serengeti, and after day one, Olive never wanted to leave. Since it was July, they were in time for peak Great Migration season. They came across a herd of wildebeest, and her adrenaline was still pumping at the memory. The ground reverberated with the pounding of their hooves. 

They had a traditional braai dinner at the private lodge’s boma. The weather was warm, and Olive was relaxed. They were back in their private suite. The ceiling was canopied, and there was a large copper tub in the corner. The bed was large and decadent, and it opened to the plains where they were able to see animals all day and night.

Adam watched Olive, amused, as she twirled under the stars, sighing happily. 

“I can’t believe we have to leave.” 

“Not quite,” he corrected, coming up and wrapping her arms around her. He kissed her temple. “We have another week, Sweetheart.” 

“And then, California.” 

“California,” he agreed. 

Adam and Olive spoke extensively about their post-Africa plans. They considered moving back to Boston; that was an option. But throughout the process of opening the clinic, both of them fell deeper in love with research. When a position opened at Stanford Medical, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

It was a teaching hospital, which Adam liked the thought of. More than that, they would have access to Stanford’s research labs to continue the studies they started in Africa. When they pitched the idea to Holden and Malcolm, they couldn’t have been more excited. 

To Stanford, California, they were to go. 

Olive gasped, gripping his arm. “Elephants!”

“Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t want to scare them.” 

There were a handful of elephants walking along the plain, lit by the moonlight. 

“Are you excited to look for the lions tomorrow?”

“I want to hug one,” she groaned.

“I love you too much for that.” 

Cold air hit her back as Adam left her waist. Olive frowned at the loss, turning to ask where he was going. Instead, she found him kneeling before her with the most earnest expression she had ever seen. 

He twirled a small box in his hand, taking a deep breath. “Olive.”

“No fucking way,” she said, voice wobbling. Her feet were moving on their own, and she found herself kneeling in front of him, gripping his forearms. 

Adam chuckled, a sheen of wetness in his eyes. “I don’t think you’re supposed to kneel also.” 

Olive moved her hands to his face before wrapping her arms around his neck, knocking him down. She straddled his hips, crying into his neck. Adam kissed her temple, her hair, her neck—anywhere he could.

“It felt fitting that I should do this on a balcony,” he started, wiping tears from her cheeks. “You were special to me from the moment we met, though I hardly understood it. I—”

Adam was cut off as the door burst open. 

“He finally asked? We’ve been spying outside,” Malcolm said. “Kalamata, you let me see that ring right now!” 

“No,” Adam said. Olive burst out laughing, unable to stop herself.

“She said no?” Holden asked, eyes wide.

“No. I haven’t asked,” Adam clarified. 

“But she’s crying,” Malcolm protested, gesturing at the mess that was Olive’s face. 

“Because I’m happy,” she said, hands shaking, face beaming. 

“I haven’t even opened the box,” Adam said, exasperated. 

“In our defense—” Malcolm started.

“Get out,” Adam said, pointing to the door, still holding Olive against him.

“You can’t seriously expect us to leave now,” Holden groaned. 

“Yes,” Olive grinned, pulling Adam’s face to hers. 

His eyes widened. “Yes? I haven’t asked anything. I’ve been panicking about what to say for months, and—”

She nodded. “You can tell me later in bed. I love you.” 

“I love you, too, but they can leave. I can—”

Olive kissed him long and hard, tears still streaming down her face. Adam whispered to her again, how much he loved her, and that he never wanted to be apart from Olive again. 

“At least let me,” he protested, opening the box. It was a large cushion-cut solitaire tanzanite ring on a delicate gold band. Two smaller diamonds adorned each side, glistening in the light. It captured their time in Africa perfectly. Adam cleared his throat. “Let me try this again. Olive Smith, will you please marry me?”