rea🐆

the emergency department was a place where people learned to ignore things.

the alarms.

the crying.

the arguments behind curtains.

but you had always been terrible at ignoring small things.

the way someone’s hands shook after a difficult case.

the way a patient’s family member said thank you like they meant it.

the way cassie mckay always stayed an extra thirty seconds with someone who looked scared.

you noticed everything.

which was probably why you noticed her. . . you weren’t trying to listen.

you were looking for a patient chart that robby had left near the nurses station.

cassie and samira were near the counter.

cassie looked exactly how she always looked after a long shift, tired but somehow still put together. her hair was messy, her scrubs were slightly wrinkled, and there was that familiar crease between her eyebrows that appeared whenever she was thinking too much.

samira was listening as she charted.

cassie sighed.

“and i’m solo this weekend…”

she dragged out the words dramatically.

“i need to get laid.”

samira didn’t answer.

not immediately.

not at all.

she just glanced at cassie with a mixed look of shock and what you read as surprise?

cassie looked at her.

you walked away before they noticed you.

you told yourself it was because you didn’t want to intrude.

but the truth was that something about hearing cassie say it made your stomach twist.

not because she wanted someone.

because some small, ridiculous part of you wondered what it would feel like if she wanted you.

. . which was absurd.

because cassie was older than you.

impossibly older.

old enough that you felt silly for even thinking about it.

you were in your early twenties.

you were still figuring out who you were when you weren’t at work.

cassie had lived enough life to have stories you didn’t know yet.

she had survived things you couldn’t imagine.

she had this confidence that wasn’t really confidence, more like someone who had been forced to become strong because there wasn’t another option.

and you wondered why that drew you in.

because your relationship with your mum was good.

really good.

you weren’t searching for someone to replace her.

you didn’t have some dramatic childhood wound that explained everything neatly.

your mum called you after every stressful week.

she knew your favourite snacks.

she gave advice without making you feel stupid.

she loved you loudly.

so why did you find yourself drawn to women who felt older?

women who seemed like they knew where they were going?

women who carried themselves like they had already survived the storms you were still learning to stand in?

maybe it wasn’t about needing someone to mother you.

maybe it was about wanting someone who made the future feel less frightening.

cassie wasn’t comforting because she felt like home.

she was comforting because she felt like proof you could become someone.

. .

“you’re staring again.”

you looked up.

santos was standing beside you, arms crossed.

“i am not.”

“you are.”

“at what?”

santos raised an eyebrow.

you immediately knew you had lost.

“cassie.”

your face heated.

“i’m literally just looking.”

“sure.”

“i am.”

“okay.”

the way she said it made it worse.

“what?”

“nothing.”

“santos.”

you hated that everyone apparently knew something about you except you.

. .

the worst part was that cassie was kind.

if she was cold, it would’ve been easier.

if she was distant, you could’ve convinced yourself you were imagining things.

but cassie remembered details.

she remembered how you took your coffee.

she remembered when you had an exam.

she remembered when you looked overwhelmed and silently handed you a bottle of water without making a big deal about it.

cassie cared about people.

that was who she was.

and maybe that was the most dangerous part.

because you knew you weren’t special.

you knew she did this for everyone.

but knowing something logically didn’t stop your heart from being stupid.

. .

it happened while cassie was laughing with whitaker about something ridiculous.

you watched her throw her head back, genuinely amused, and suddenly everything clicked.

the reason you remembered every conversation.

the reason you noticed when she was tired.

the reason you cared who she spent her weekends with.

you liked her.

actually liked her.

and immediately your brain followed with:

oh no.

. .

because liking cassie meant questions.

would she even see you that way?

would she see you as too young?

would she think you were just attached because she was older and experienced?

would she think it was inappropriate?

and maybe the hardest question:

did she like you back?

cassie wasn’t someone who played games.

she wasn’t careless with people’s feelings.

if she noticed, she would probably be careful.

maybe too careful.

because cassie was the kind of person who felt responsible for everyone around her.

including you.

. .

a few weeks later, you were sitting in the break room with cassie after a brutal shift.

both of you were exhausted.

both of you were quiet.

“you know,” cassie said eventually, “you’re really hard on yourself.”

you looked at her.

“what?”

she shrugged.

“you’re always trying to prove you belong here.”

the words hit harder than they should have.

“do i?”

cassie looked genuinely confused.

“do you what?”

“belong here.”

her expression softened.

“yeah.”

a pause.

“you do.”

and there it was.

that feeling again.

that warmth.

because maybe love wasn’t always about finding someone who completed you.

maybe sometimes it was about finding someone who saw you clearly.

someone who made you believe the person you were becoming was worth knowing.