“I know you’re questioning what feels right and where you belong, but there’s no doubt in my mind that you were meant to be a nurse. Maybe your position will look different; maybe your focus will change. Hell, maybe you’ll be caring for kids in a Third World country. But you have a talent that can’t be taught; it’s something you were born with, and I’m so fucking lucky to get to experience it.”

I gently pounded our hands against the bed. “You’ve given me life, Whitney. I don’t always verbalize that, but I certainly feel it.”

A blush spread across her cheeks as she exhaled. “Thank you.” Her grip changed. I was no longer the only one clenching; she was now holding me just as tightly. “That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Silence passed between us, and as I took in her stunning gaze, the pain in my chest dissolved, heat beginning to take its place.

I knew there would be ramifications, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop this moment even if I tried.

I shifted my fingers, linking them between hers. “Do me a favor, Whitney.”

She nodded. “Whatever you need.”

“Take out your notepad.”

She used her free hand to grab the paper and pen from her pocket.

“Show me our list of goals.” She placed the pad in her lap, allowing us to view it at the same time.

I located the line that mentioned cooking dinner and pointed at it. “I want you to cross off family.”

She scratched out the word in her light-blue ink.

“And write your name instead.”

She slowly gazed up at me; the weather that was in my chest was now in her eyes. “You’d like to cook … for me?”

I nodded. “And I don’t want you dressed in scrubs, like during a time when you’re on the clock. I want you here as my guest.”

“As in a date?”

“You can call it anything you want.”

Her lips parted, and she sucked the bottom one into her mouth, her teeth biting that tender spot.

Just as she was about to respond, we heard, “Good evening, Caleb and Whitney,” from my night nurse, who was speaking from the doorway of my room.

Still, my stare never left that rich chocolate, and Whitney’s didn’t leave mine, our hands even sturdier together.

“I should go,” Whitney whispered. I felt her reluctance, and then she gradually freed our grips. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No.” And then I decided to add, “Enjoy your time off.”

When she’d signed my contract, I’d let her choose which five days she wanted to work, and the two she’d picked for her days off were consecutive.