The shift was almost over. Two more hours, and she could go home, lock the door, and pretend this entire day hadn’t happened. That was the plan—until Robby stormed into the ER, tension coiled so tight in his frame it might snap.

“Go home.” His voice was sharp, clipped—more of a command than a suggestion.

She blinked. “What?”

He wasn’t looking at her so much as through her, jaw tight, fingers twitching at his sides. He looked like a man running on fumes, like he had been since the start of this god-awful day. First, Langdon. Then Collins. Dana. Every. single. patient.

And now this.

“I said, go home,” he repeated, already looking over his shoulder like his mind was two steps ahead.

“Robby, what the hell—”

Then every phone in the ER went off at once. Hers. The nurses’. The patients’. A shrill symphony of alerts and buzzing, filling the space with an instant, suffocating weight. Someone turned up the TV in the corner. The words on the screen blurred together before sharpening into something clear, something devastating.

Robby finally turned back to her, eyes hard, unreadable. But she knew. She knew why he was trying to get her out of here before she saw this. Before the memories came clawing back, the weight of her past smashing into the present.

“Go home,” he said again, quieter this time. Not a command. Not even a plea. Just a statement, like it was the only thing that made sense in the middle of all this chaos.

“Do you think it was-“

“Yes.”

The patient’s son from earlier

He answered her sharply

“Have you gotten a hold of-“

Jake

“No.”

His answer is just as quick.

“Please, go home.”