-Sloane Pierce:
The hospital was alive with its usual rhythm, the beeps, the murmurs, the clatter of carts in the corridors, the low hum of the ventilation that always seemed to have a heartbeat of its own. For the past week, I had carefully structured my life around avoiding Roxy Delgado. Every thought of her, every flash of her brown eyes, I shoved into a corner and locked behind a door I refused to open.
I had made arrangements with another neurosurgeon, to keep an eye on her. The doctor was competent, meticulous, and, most importantly, willing to deal with her family. It gave me a sliver of peace to know that her needs were being met, that her recovery wasn't neglected, while I kept my distance. That was the boundary I had established.
