Page 16 of Top Shelf

My throat pinches as I swallow, but Carina’s face is calm. Underneath it, though, I know she’ll be keeping the worry contained because she knows I need the room to stay calm around me.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says quietly.

“Me too.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try to schedule future collisions at a more convenient time.”

Her gaze softens for a moment, then she lets go and steps back into doctor mode because neither of us is good at the emotion thing.

“If anything changes—headache, dizziness, tingling, anything—you tell me immediately. Not after your patients, not when you’re done being stubborn. Immediately.”

“Yes, Dr. Park.”

“Great. Now fix your hair. Moreno’s on his second lap.”

I glance down at myself, and immediately regret it.

“That means he’s becoming a full continuous eyebrow,” I mutter.

Carina takes the wet paper towel from my hands and tosses it into the trash, then swipes a piece of hair off my face. “Come on. Breathe, hydrate, and don’t babble. You know this stuff.”

I follow her down the corridor, my sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor. The walls of the clinic are full of framed jerseys, athlete thank-you notes, surgical fellowship certificates, and glossy photos from charity events that prove two things quite clearly: Dr. Keith Moreno knows half the elite athletes in the United States, and wealthy people will attend any fundraiser if there are tiny crab cakes involved.

We pass one of the bigger photos from last year’s gala hanging near the conference room door. I see Carina and Reid first, because I always do. Reid Hutchison, former goalie for the Colorado Storm, and the man who somehow turned Carina’s life into a medical-ethics nightmare with a happy ending, stands beside her with their daughter Ivy balanced in his arms. Ivy’s about eighteen months now and already has Reid trained to hand-feed her snacks with the obedience of a man who’s happy to lose every negotiation with her for the rest of his life.

Zoe Carlson is to their right, sleek and smiling next to Chase Walton, who looks exactly the way Chase always looks when he’s with Zoe. Like she invented oxygen and sunlight. They’ve been together a few years now, and I remain convinced he is one grand gesture away from proposing with a ring the size of Texas.

Lulu Parnell is laughing under Logan Miller’s arm, her own engagement ring sparkling in the camera flash. Logan is another Storm defenseman, and still delights in making Eli Parnell, Lulu’s older brother and the team captain, reconsider every life choice that led to his baby sister ending up with his teammate. Eli’s wife, Tamara, stands beside him in the photo with a hand over her mouth, laughing at something off-camera.

Jake and Charlie Brooks are in the back with two of their kids half-blurred in motion and the third trying to escape Jake’s arms. They don’t make it to as many events these days, because three children will do that to a couple, but when they do show up, the entire room feels warmer—and more rested by comparison.

This is how the Colorado Storm crew slipped into my life. Through Carina falling in love with Reid, who came with hockey players, and the hockey players came with women I genuinely liked. They’re the kind of people who become familiar in the way good people do—by appearing again and again until you start inviting and being invited without thinking.

And Viktor’s there too, on the edge of it all. A silent, broad-shouldered disruption who turns up at gatherings, says seven words over two hours, and somehow still manages to make the air rearrange itself around him.

I shove that thought into a box, tape the box shut, and set it on fire. But Carina still catches me looking at the photo and follows my gaze.

“Your face is doing something weird,” she murmurs beside me.

“I’m looking at Ivy.”

“You’re looking approximately five inches to the left of Ivy.”

“I was hit by a car, Carina. My aim is off.”

She hums in reply.

“Don’t hum at me.”

“I’m allowed. I’m your best friend and a surgeon.”

Despite myself, I laugh. Some of the pressure in my chest loosens with it, but I still pause as we turn toward the door.

“Hey.” Carina’s hand brushes my elbow. “You know this plan.”

“I know.”