“Oh, sweetie, come with me.” Dr. Bella took Tae’s hand and led her through her house, past the comfy living room with the ornate oak fireplace, the clean white furniture, to the kitchen. Here, Tae had spent more hours than she could count at the granite island, listening to Dr. Bella explain tissue resident memory T-cell research or how pathogenic microorganisms cause disease, while she cooked up one of her famous omelets.

“Sit,” Dr. Bella said and pushed her down onto the bench in the kitchen nook. Then she walked over to her island and picked up the remote for the flat-screen that hung on the opposite wall and turned it on.

The television landed on some rerun of Grey’s Anatomy, and Dr. Bella turned it up, then came over and slid onto the bench. “You two have landed in some kind of trouble, haven’t you?”

This was weird, almost as if— Tae lowered her voice. “Do you think someone is listening to us?”

Dr. Bella leaned in. “Two men in suits visited me about a month ago asking if I had been in contact with either of you lately. Right after that lab you worked at burned to the ground. And right after you were both declared missing.” She leaned back, raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a story to tell me, missy?”

“Yes.”

“Does it involve you doing something illegal, because if it does”—she held up her hand—“I only want to know what I can do to help you get out of trouble.”

“No.”

“Okay. Well then, I’ll make you something to eat.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are. I see those bags under your eyes, and you’ve lost weight. Honey, you are hungrier than I’ve ever seen you.”

Huh. Maybe.

Dr. Bella got up and pulled some eggs from her refrigerator, along with ham, an onion, mushrooms, cheese, and butter.

It was like old times, almost like coming home to watch her whip up the omelet, the smells of frying ham and onions loosening what Tae hadn’t realized was a tight band in her chest.

She settled her head on her arms, listening to the television drama that was in truth nothing like any hospital she’d ever worked in.

She never once had a tryst in some storage closet with a fellow intern. When would she have the time, energy, or for that matter, interest? A passing, one-time fling had never been on her bucket list. It seemed better to be alone than have her heart broken or to give herself away to a stranger.

Still, if she were to have a moment in a storage closet, it would probably be with—

Nope. They were just friends, and besides, she’d left Colt Kingston over two thousand miles away, in peace and safety.

Dr. Bella put a plate in front of her, the omelet glistening with butter, steaming, perfect, and, yes, the old professor was right.