Chapter Text
Your soulmate was probably sick and tired of you and they hadn’t even met you yet.
In a world where everyone had soulmates, it was easy to get excited about the thought of meeting them. It was trickier to actually meet them, since it was impossible to seek them out successfully. Everyone was born with a soulmate, but not everyone would find them one day.
The only way to know if someone was your soulmate was through items you’d lost. Whenever you lost something, whether it be a pen, a sock, a book, or anything else, the item would magically appear in the hands of your soulmate. Many people had tried to intentionally lose things that had hints or clues about who they were, trying to speed up the process, but people could never lose something intentionally.
Unfortunately for whoever your soulmate was, you were a professional at losing things. If ever there was a contest, you’d be seed one for sure. It wasn’t something you were proud of, but there was nothing you could do about it- the last time you tried to get an organizer to stop losing things, the organizer (you guessed it) got lost. Shoes, papers, pens, scissors, and countless flowers had all vanished from your mind, which meant they were well and duly out of sight forever. Hopefully wherever your soulmate was, they were having a laugh about it.
Your soulmate, by comparison, had to be one of the most organized people you’d ever heard of. In all your years of life, they’d barely lost anything. You had a handful of pens, a grocery list, a few scattered papers with doodles or notes on them, a pair of shoes that had definitely seen better days, and a few other assorted items you couldn’t do anything with. While they probably had hundreds of things from you, your pile was small enough to fit in a cardboard box in your closet.
You just hoped your soulmate didn’t have a job where they were busy often, because every time their items appeared by you, it was either in your hands or your direct line of sight. Thankfully, it wasn’t exactly a high stakes job you held as a florist, but if you had anything more fast paced, you could see yourself getting annoyed at the prospect of different flowers materializing in front of you if you were in the middle of something.
“Oh, about time.” You were in the middle of arranging a bouquet for a wedding when a pen appeared in the hand that was currently adding baby’s breath filler alongside the wildflowers. “I was starting to think they were dead.”
“Did you get something?” Your childhood friend turned coworker/co-owner, Sam, popped their head up from where they were hunched over a spread of flowers, trimming the stems and scraping thorns off. “It’s been ages, I kind of respect that.”
“Yeah, just another pen.” You looked the pen over, nodding appreciatively. “Good pen, though, it’s one of those gel sharpie-like ones that glides like butter. I bet they’ll miss it.”
“Score for you, those are expensive!” They laughed, bending back down to look at the flowers before them.
“Bummer for them, I hope they’ve got another somewhere.” You said, not all that sorry for them- you needed a new pen anyway, you lost your last one. Unfortunately for your soulmate, it was a shitty ballpoint pen that barely worked, so it wasn’t really a fair trade off.
“I remember when Mia lost fifteen pens in a day,” Sam shook their head, you laughing at the memory of your befuddled friend suddenly getting rained on by pens, “the whole package! I’d have been so pissed if I lost that manu.”
“At least you met her a week later, she wasn’t without them for too long.” You pointed out, remembering the way your friend had called you at 2am to tell you they met their soulmate at a bar they had been dragged to by a friend.
The bell on the door jingled, and Sam dropped the flowers they were working with to head out to the storefront and greet the customer. You stayed back in the backroom dedicated to working on arrangements, one earbud in to listen to your own music instead of the same five pop songs on the radio over and over. The baby’s breath was finished, so you picked up the orange snapdragons to your left and began to trim those down.
Florist wasn’t what you initially thought you’d go into as a child- you had big dreams of being an astronaut who discovered a new planet, got it named after yourself, and proceeded to become its supreme leader. You were pretty upset when you learned that most people didn’t view that as a viable career path at career day in fifth grade, so you decided to just go with the flow and do whatever made you happy.
Flowers were pretty and smelled nice, and you loved the creativity that the job allowed you, but you were most excited by the joy they brought other people. You and Sam would play a guessing game whenever someone came in to buy flowers, trying to figure out what they were being bought for. Maybe the shy girl getting a bunch of roses with a ribbon around them was bringing them to a first date, or the sad looking older man was getting them for someone in the hospital. Whatever it was, the two of you loved to see the smiles on the faces of the people buying, and you loved to imagine the smiles on the faces of the people on the receiving end.
You got a lot of requests for flowers to be delivered to the hospital, being right around the corner from a trauma center- quite literally, you were on the same block about 500 feet away.. The shop didn’t really have a designated delivery driver- you and Sam weren’t willing to go in on hiring someone, not when it was easier for you to just walk around the corner and drop them off yourselves. Most nights it was as easy as carrying them over in your arms, but you had a small wagon you’d taken them over in before. It was a several times a week occurrence for you, and the receptionists at the front desk all knew you by name at this point.
The bell jingled again, signaling that the customer had left. You glanced down at your watch and saw that it was 8:55, only five minutes until close. You placed the last snapdragon in the bouquet and stepped back to examine it from all angles, nodding with satisfaction and placing it in the walk-in cooler in the back.
You grabbed the small scissors and ribbon scraps and slipped them in the pocket of the overall shorts you wore. They were completely covered in dirt smudges, flower stains, and marker lines, but they were comfy as can be and they did a great job keeping your shirts clean instead of an apron, so you kept wearing them on bouquet days.
A loud thud sounded through the shop, and you snapped your head towards the front, listening carefully. “Sam?”
Your consistently clumsy friend didn’t respond, and your confusion turned to worry. You brushed your hands off on your overalls and walked quickly towards the front, calling out again and getting no answer. You scanned the shop for any sign of them, and didn’t see them. “Sam, are you okay?”
No response yet again. You rounded the corner of the desk up front and shrieked, almost tripping over Sam. They were on the floor, a pool of blood forming under their head, and you spotted the blood on the corner of a chair. They must have hit their head on the way down and cut themselves. “Fuck, oh fuck, Sam??”
You dropped to your knees without a moment of hesitation, not even wincing when your knees hit the rough floor beneath you. Instantly, you felt for a pulse with one hand and held your finger under their nose to feel for breath with the other, and when you felt nothing both ways, you cursed again and pulled out your phone to call 911.
“911, what city is your emergency in?”
“Downtown Pittsburgh.” You put the phone on speaker and set it beside you, holding Sam’s neck carefully and rolling them onto their back. The wound on their head was oozing blood, and you ripped your jacket off the back of a chair without thinking and pressed it to their head, grabbing a heavy book on the counter and leaning it against the jacket to try and keep some pressure on it. You tried to ignore the way their blood immediately stained your hands.
“Connecting you now.” A brief hold, and a new voice spoke on the phone. “911, what is the nature of your emergency?”
“My friend is unconscious, they hit their head and it’s bleeding a lot, no pulse or breath.” Your voice was shaking but you forced yourself to keep steady, climbing back to your knees and reaching back into your mind to remember the CPR training you had.
“Did you see when they became unconscious?”
“No, but it hasn’t been longer than-” A quick glance at your watch, “-three minutes.”
“What is the address of your location?”
You rattled it off quickly, starting compressions. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to wait for the dispatcher to tell you to start, but you decided the best course of action was to not put it off, so you laced your fingers together and started to push on your friend’s chest without a second thought.
“What is your name?” You could hear the dispatcher typing away, hopefully sending someone to come help.
“(Y/N), and my friend’s name is Sam.” You thought for sure your arms would start hurting by this point, but the adrenaline must have been keeping you from feeling the pain in your arms or knees, and you said a silent prayer of thanks for that. “I’ve started CPR, they still aren’t breathing.”
“Good job, (Y/N), that was very smart of you to do.” Thank you for the positive reinforcement, you thought, please hurry up already. “I’ve dispatched EMS to your location now. They should be just a few minutes away. I’ll stay on the line with you until they get there.”
“Okay,” You paused compressions briefly to check for a pulse, continuing right away when you didn’t find one. “They still aren’t breathing.”
“Do you have an AED unit on site?”
“Fuck, no, we don’t have one here.” You cursed, wincing when you felt something give in Sam’s chest. “I think I just broke one of their ribs, shit, shit, shit.”
“That can happen when CPR is done correctly, (Y/N), you’re doing everything right.” The dispatcher reassured you calmly. “I promise you, Sam will forgive you when they wake up.”
“Pittsburgh EMS!” The bell on the door rang rapidly, and a man yelled into the shop as you heard multiple sets of footsteps enter the shop.
“Back here!” You yelled, faintly hearing the dispatcher say goodbye to you and the line disconnect.
Three paramedics rounded the corner, two of them also dropping to their knees beside you and evaluating the situation. “What’s going on?”
“I came out here and found them unconscious and bleeding from the head.” You explained, panting now from the minutes of CPR you’d been doing without anyone there to tap in and help you. “They weren’t breathing and there was no pulse.”
One of the paramedics had you stop compressions and put her fingers to Sam’s neck. “There’s a pulse, but it’s thready.”
You fell back on your heels and choked out a sob, letting the paramedics swoop in and begin to attach wires and marks to your friend. You looked at your hands and saw the blood from Sam all over them, and finally started to feel the blood on your knees from where you had scraped them raw.
“Ma’am? Ma’am?” You looked up at a paramedic who was standing over you, eyeing your hands with concern. “Are you hurt too?”
“No, this is their blood.” You explained, standing up shakily once they lifted Sam onto the stretcher. “It’s just my knees.”
“Okay, do they have an emergency contact we can call?”
“Me, their girlfriend is out of the state. I’m the alternate.”
“Do you want to come ride with us or follow behind?” The paramedic asked, looking at your knees and back up at you. “Either way, as the emergency contact, you have the right to be present and give decisions regarding care. Plus, we should take a look at your knees.”
“I’ll ride.” You followed the paramedic to the ambulance, climbing in through the side door and wincing when you sat down and bent your knees. Sam was hooked up to several wires and cuffs, but your eyes zeroed in on the pulse monitor- 32 bpm. Low, yes, but there.
“How long were they unconscious for?” One of the paramedics asked, shutting the door behind you and pulling herself up. The ambulance began to move, and you looked at your watch.
“Seven minutes.”
“And you performed CPR the entire time?”
“Yeah, and I put the book against their head to try to slow the bleeding. I don’t know if it worked, I didn’t have time to check.” Your brain was whirring, thoughts of everything that could go wrong running through your mind. “It probably wasn’t very helpful, but it was just me, so-”
“It was very quick thinking, and it’s very impressive that you did CPR by yourself for seven minutes.” She reassured you, locking eyes with you and nodding. “They have a pulse again, that’s all thanks to you.”
You nodded, dazed from everything. The ambulance stopped (you’d really never been so thankful to work right around the corner from a trauma center before), and the doors opened. They wheeled Sam out of the back of it, and one of them helped you step out of the back, leading you through the bay doors.
You heard one of the paramedics start shouting things- Sam’s name and age, medical terms you understood but couldn’t process. Several doctors in scrubs and paper jackets over the front ran over, and Sam was whisked away into a room along the side to be treated. Another doctor came over to you, gently grasping your shoulders and speaking to you.
“-kay? Hey, hey, can you hear me?”
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” You muttered, shaking your head slightly and looking up.
A young doctor with long black hair was holding your shoulders, concern etched in every line of her face, but it seemed to fade just slightly when you responded to her. “My name is Dr. Mohan, I’m a resident here. I need to get you to a room so we can talk about your friend and take a look at your injuries. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” You agreed, glancing back at the room Sam was in. You could see multiple doctors all huddled around them, handing each other tools and watching various monitors. You looked back at Dr. Mohan and nodded in assent, letting her lead you away from the paramedic and into a treatment room.
She sat you down on the bed, slipping on a pair of gloves and bending down to look at your knees. “What’s your name?”
“(Y/N), I’m Sam’s friend, we own a business together.” You weren’t sure if she wanted to know that, but she looked at you with an encouraging smile and nodded, so you figured at least she was humoring you in your current state. “Are they going to be okay, Dr. Mohan?”
“They’re in good hands.” Dr. Mohan reassured you, pausing when you winced as she touched a tender spot on your knee. “You can call me Samira, (Y/N). Did that hurt?”
“Yeah, they both hurt kind of all over.” You said with a laugh, looking down at your knees properly for the first time. They were torn up, blood streaking down your calves and staining the tops of your sneakers. “Damn, I liked those shoes.”
“Cold water and hydrogen peroxide might get those stains out.” She reassured you, taking your hands and looking them over. “Do you have any lacerations on your hands?”
“No, that’s-” You took a deep breath, willing your voice to stay steady. “That’s Sam’s blood, not mine.”
“Got it.” Samira nodded, releasing your hands. “Let me grab one of the attendings here to talk to you more about Sam, and I’ll get you cleaned up while you talk to him. Sounds good?”
You nodded, laying your hands on your thighs, palms up. Samira smiled encouragingly at you again and left the room, tossing her gloves in the trash as she left. You tried to reassure yourself over and over- Sam had a heartbeat. Sam had a pulse. You putting that book on their head had been useful, not stupid. You were both in the best trauma center for hours around, Sam would be okay. And once your hands were cleaned, you were going to call Mia and let her know everything.
The door opened, and you looked up to see Samira returning with another doctor, a tall, older man with brown hair and a beard. He had his hands in his pockets, and there was a kind smile on his face that made you instantly want to trust him. “Hi (Y/N), my name is Dr. Robinavitch, but you can call me Robby. I’m here to ask you a few more questions about Sam so we can get a picture of what happened. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” You agreed, and he smiled again, sitting on a stool beside your bed. Samira sat in one on the opposite side, putting gloves back on and setting out a tray of supplies.
“Okay.” He pulled out a chart on a clipboard, before turning to Samira. “Do you have a pen? I didn’t bring one with me today.”
“I’ve got one.” You reached into your pocket and held the pen your soulmate had lost earlier to him. Usually you held onto the stuff they lost, but you felt like they’d understand if you gave their pen to a doctor.
“Huh, Jack uses this same kind.” He remarked, taking the pen from you carefully and checking to make sure no blood got on it.
“Jack? Is that your soulmate?”
Samira let out a snort of laughter, and Robby shot her a look before shaking his head at you with a smile. “No, he’s another one of the doctors here.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” He said kindly, clicking the pen and preparing to write notes on the chart. “Okay, whenever you’re ready, just tell me anything you can that might help us treat Sam, anything you remember about today, any preexisting medical conditions or medications you know about, anything like that.”
“I was in the back putting flowers in the cooler.” You started, running through the timeline of events in your head. You were acutely aware of how both doctors listened to you intently, and you tried to not let it trip you up. “I heard a thud, so I went up front to check on Sam because they didn’t respond when I called for them. I found them on the ground behind the counter, there was blood on the corner of the chair and under their head so I guessed that they hit their head on the chair when they passed out. I tried to stop the bleeding from their head by putting my jacket on the cut and using a heavy book to apply pressure since they weren’t breathing and I needed my hands for CPR. I called 911 and did CPR for seven minutes until they got a pulse, and then the paramedics arrived.”
You caught your breath, thinking again. “Sam doesn’t have any conditions I know about, and medication wise they have testosterone cypionate injections once a month.”
“You did CPR for seven minutes by yourself?” Robby sounded thoroughly impressed, looking at you from over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, there was nobody else there to help.” You shrugged, holding out your hands towards Samira when she motioned for them.
“Good thinking with the book, too, that’s really smart.” She said, and Robby nodded in agreement.
“Your quick thinking and action gave Sam a fighting chance, (Y/N).” He said, setting the chart on his knees and resting his elbows on it as he spoke. “You got their pulse back on your own without an AED, and you administered CPR for almost four times longer than the average person can on their own. You should be very, very proud of yourself.”
“How is Sam?” You knew you wouldn’t be able to feel a thing towards yourself until you knew how your friend was.
“They’re still working on them now,” Samira explained, taping gauze to your knees firmly and patting it down, “But as soon as we have any news, we’ll let you know.”
“Okay.” You agreed, fidgeting with your now clean hands in your lap and picking at the fraying threads along the edge of your overalls. Robby noticed, and he tapped his pen on the chart a few times, clearly thinking.
“You said you two own a business?” His tone was conversational, and the corner of your mouth lifted slightly, appreciative of his not-so-subtle efforts to distract you.
“Yeah, the flower shop right around the corner on 53rd.” You said, pulling out one of the ribbons still in your pocket to fidget with that instead. “Opened it a few years ago together. That’s why I’m covered in dirt right now, it’s not just a fashion choice.”
“Oh, I’ve been there!” Samira exclaimed, looking up at you excitedly. She took her gloves off and threw them in the trash along with the tray, eyes shining with excitement. “You make a lot of the floral arrangements for patients here, don’t you?”
“Wait, are you the florist Lupe keeps talking about?” Robby’s eyes shone with recognition, a grin crossing his face.
“Oh, I love Lupe!” Genuine happiness flooded your tone. “How is she?”
“She’s good, she’s always telling us about the ‘pretty florist with the pretty flowers’.” Robby joked, eyes crinkling up from his smile. “You and Sam send stuff here pretty regularly, don’t you?”
“More to the ICU and NICU, but yeah, we’ve got some here at the ER when you guys have patients who stay here longer.”
“Send more with lavender. Those are my favorite, the rooms always smell so nice afterwards.” Samira begged, standing up and clasping her hands together.
“I’ll see what I can do.” You promised, already mentally planning several bouquets you could send directly to the ER staff as thanks for everything they were doing for you and Sam.
A knock on the door, and it opened suddenly, all three of you turning to look at the new figure entering the room. He was just a smidge shorter than Robby, with grey curly hair and a stoic look on his face. His arms were folded over his chest, and you couldn’t help but notice the way the veins in his arms popped out when he flexed his forearms. “Mind if I cut in?”
“Not at all.” Robby said easily, standing up to let the new doctor sit down. He turned to you and smiled again, that same easy smile he seemed to wear often. “(Y/N), this is Dr. Abbot. He was the doctor working on Sam.”
“Among others. You can call me Jack. ” Jack said, though he didn’t disagree with what Robby said. He sat on the stool facing you, elbows on his knees and hands folded as he leaned forwards to talk to you. “You’re the one who called 911?”
“Yeah, I found them and called.” You affirmed, hearing Samira slip out of the room. Robby stayed put, hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he stood behind Jack. “Is Sam okay?”
“She’s-”
“They.” You cut in, clapping a hand over your mouth when you realized you cut him off. “Shit, I’m sorry, that was so rude.”
“They’re stable.” Jack didn’t bat an eye, unphased by your correction. “They’re stable, on oxygen right now. They’re not unconscious anymore, but they are asleep from anesthesia. We had to stitch the head wound shut, and they had a broken rib, but they should be awake in a few hours.”
“I broke their ribs?” You closed your eyes and put your head in your hands, willing yourself to not cry.
“You did CPR?” Jack asked, and Robby answered for you. “She did CPR for seven minutes on her own and propped a book against a jacket to stop the bleeding on the head wound.”
Jack let out a low whistle, and when you looked back up, he had a look of impressed respect on his face. “Damn, that’s badass.”
“Jack.” Robby hissed, and Jack shrugged, unphased by the other man’s insinuated rebuke over his language.
“It was!” He defended himself, turning back to you. “I promise you, your friend would rather have a broken rib than be dead. CPR for seven minutes on your own is something most doctors can’t even do, let alone hard enough to break a rib and successful enough to get a heart started again. You did everything exactly right.”
“Their girlfriend is going to kill me.” You said, thinking about how you had to call Mia and tell her everything, and both Robby and Jack scoffed at that.
“Their girlfriend will be thrilled to hear that they’re alive.” Robby said softly, holding your gaze and giving you a stare like he was willing you to understand and believe him.
“Seriously, (Y/N),” Jack looked you dead in the eyes, and a tiny traitorous part of you started whispering about how downright gorgeous the man was, which was not appropriate given the time, “you saved Sam’s life with your quick thinking. Don’t beat yourself up over a rib. Those heal quickly.”
“Okay.” You whispered, tucking the ribbon back in your pocket and sighing. “When do I take them home?”
“We’re keeping them overnight for observation.” Robby pulled the pen back out of his pocket and made another note on the chart. “Because they were unconscious longer than five minutes, it’s protocol to make sure they’re stable through the night. There’s no concern that they won’t be, but it’s protocol regardless.”
“Do I stay here with them?”
“No, you head home and clean up and rest up. You can come by tomorrow morning and we’ll see how they’re doing then, okay?”
“Okay.” You agreed, hesitant to leave. “Do you need my number in case something happens? I’m going to call Mia- their girlfriend, but she’s out of state, so I’m the closest emergency contact here.”
“Yes, actually, if you could just write down your information on this sheet,” Robby handed you the pen and chart, pointing to a square in the corner, “we can call you if anything changes.”
“I don’t answer calls, you’ll want to text.” You took the pen and started scribbling, missing the way Jack’s eyes widened when he saw the pen, head turning to Robby.
“Did you steal my pen, Robanivitch?” He gestured to the pen in your hand and scoffed. “I know damn well you don’t use those.”
“I did no such thing!” Robby sounded betrayed, taking the chart back from you and clutching a hand to his chest. “She gave it to me to use.”
“You can have it.” You held out your hand with the pen outstretched towards Jack, who looked befuddled, cocking his head to one side slightly and looking between you and the pen over and over again. “I think my soulmate lost it earlier this morning, but I don’t use pens much at work, so you can have it. I bet you write a lot more than I do.”
Jack’s face didn’t betray any emotion suddenly, hand reaching out to take the pen, fingers brushing yours slightly. “Shame they lost it, these are nice. Sure you don’t want to keep it?”
“No, you’ll get more use out of it than me.” You shrugged, pulling your hand back and pointedly ignoring both the burning feeling in your fingers where he brushed you and the wide eyed look Robby suddenly got when you mentioned your soulmate. “I’ve got enough of their pens at my place, trust me.”
“They lose a lot of stuff?” Robby asked suddenly, glancing at Jack quickly. The grey haired man was sitting silently, gripping the pen in his fingers like it might leave him if he let go.
“No, actually, they’re way more organized than me apparently.” You laughed a little, unaware of the way Robby proceeded to poke Jack in the back with his knee. “I kind of feel bad because I lose stuff every day it feels like, but I’ve only got a little box of things they’ve lost, so they must be absolutely tired of my shit. Well, I did get their shoes once, which was weird, but I think they’ve probably gotten four pairs of mine, so who am I to judge?”
“That sounds like-”
“A shame that you keep losing so much shit.” Jack spoke over Robby loudly, pretending the older man behind him didn’t exist. “Have you tried a planner or an organizer at all?”
“I lost both of them almost instantly.” You glanced at Robby, who looked like he was going to combust, and asked, “Are you okay?”
“He’s fine.” Jack once again spoke for Robby, looking at you like he was almost studying you now, picking you apart and putting you back together all at once. It would have been unsettling from anyone else, but you didn’t mind it from him for some reason.
“If I’m good to go…”
“Yeah, yeah, let me get you some paperwork and you can come back tomorrow morning to pick Sam up.” Robby left the room before either of you could say anything else, darting out and around the corner.
“Thank you.” Jack spoke suddenly, twirling the pen between his fingers.
“For?” You bit your lip in confusion, tilting your head to the side. Jack looked at you for a beat too long, glancing at your lips more than once, before looking back at his pen.
“The pen. Always nice to keep one on hand.” He paused when saying it, like it wasn’t what he was originally going to say. “It’s a nice one, too, you could have kept it.”
“‘S not mine.” You said, shrugging. “Besides, I don’t know anything about my soulmate, but if they’re a good person, I bet they’ll understand me giving it to a doctor. You’re probably one of the people who need a pen most routinely, better you than someone else.”
The corners of his mouth quirked up in a crooked grin, and he tucked the pen into his breast pocket, fingers lingering for a moment before letting go and crossing his arms again. “Very generous of you.”
“I live to serve.” You joked quietly, smiling when he huffed out a small laugh.
Robby stepped back in the room at that moment, papers in hand. He handed them to you and reiterated directions for your healing- keep the wounds clean, change the gauze every morning, and be careful to not tear the skin again. You nodded along to everything, somewhat distracted by the other man staring at you shamelessly from his stool.
“Thank you both, again, I can’t thank you guys enough.” They had walked you to the door, and you stood there, earnestly looking between the two of them.
“Kind of our job.” Robby said, rocking on the balls of his feet. “But, you’re welcome.”
“I’ll be back in the morning.” You promised, hesitating for just a moment when you looked between them again and looked closer- the bags under Robby’s eyes, the worn stare on Jack’s face, the way they both held themselves like they were fighting the weight of the world- and you made a decision in your mind. “Will you guys be here around 9am?”
“I’ll be starting, he’ll be getting off.” Robby confirmed, Jack nodding in agreement, a curious glint in his eye.
“Perfect.” You smiled and waved at them, turning and walking off.
Robby waited until you had rounded the corner before he whirled to face Jack, a look of astonishment on your face. “You know she’s-”
“Don’t start.” Jack groaned, rubbing a hand down his face and letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “She’s the reason I keep ending up with fucking flowers in my hand instead of scalpels.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
Jack stood there silently, Robby staring him down with anticipation. “Probably not.”
“What?!” Robby’s expression morphed into an aghast frown. “Jack, she’s your soulmate, the one person you’re fated for, and you’re not going to get her?”
“She deserves better than me.” Jack shrugged, turning on his heel to walk back inside.
Robby stood there on his own for a second, rapidly thinking, weighing how much his best friend would hate him if he intervened himself- just a little bit, for both your sake and Jack’s. Maybe Dana would have an idea.