His Contract, Her heart

Chapter 4: The Grandson

The sun was retreating behind the horizon as Marie exited the hospital shuttle, the gentle hum of its engine fading into the evening atmosphere. She followed the familiar, well-worn path leading to the small apartment she shared with her sister. The air carried a light fragrance of rain from an earlier downpour, and her bag felt heavier than it had in the morning. Every muscle in her shoulders ached, taut from a long day of maintaining a composed, professional demeanor.

As she opened the door, the soothing aroma of eucalyptus oil wafted through the room. Gentle music emanated from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner of the living area, something soft featuring piano and strings. It was Martha’s "healing" playlist.

“In the kitchen,” Martha called out.

Marie beamed as she stepped inside and saw Martha on her toes, carefully pouring hot water into two mugs.

“Did you read my mind?” Marie inquired, shedding her shoes.

“Of course. I’ve had tea ready since 6 p.m. I guessed you’d return home looking like a mess.”

Marie sank into the barstool. “I do not look like a mess.”

Martha raised an eyebrow. “Your bun is unraveling, there’s a mystery stain on your scrub pocket, and your eyes are just one more bad day away from complete raccoon mode.”

Marie let out a soft laugh. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“I’m your emotional support sibling — brutal honesty is part of the job description.”

They settled at the counter, hands wrapped around warm mugs. Martha curled her legs under her on the couch, while Marie stared into her tea as though it might hold answers she’d been seeking all day.

“How difficult was it?” Martha queried gently.

Marie took a moment to think. “I made it until mid-morning before an elderly patient called me a tyrant and threw eggs my way.”

Martha gasped. “No! Was it…”

“Mr. Whitaker. The very Mr. Whitaker.”

“Legend,” Martha muttered with a shake of her head. “Someone told me he once tried to organize a wheelchair drag race.”

Marie smirked despite herself. “He nearly got me fired today. Filed a complaint. The board is breathing down my neck.”

“Seriously?” Martha’s expression turned serious. “But you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did my job. That was the issue. I refused to give him candy.”

Martha remained quiet for a moment. “You need this job.”

“I’m aware,” Marie answered softly.

“No, like… I really need it.”

Marie locked eyes with her sister and nodded. “I’ll find a way. I always do.”

“I believe you do,” Martha whispered. “But remember, you’re not alone, okay? Even when you feel like you are.”

Marie offered a gentle smile. “What else is new?”

There was a pause before Martha carefully said, “Dr. Leigh contacted me as well.”

Marie tensed. “She shouldn’t have…”

“I requested her to. I wanted the truth.”

Marie leaned back, exhaling slowly. “I didn’t want to cause you any worry.”

“You don’t need to shield me all the time, Marie,” Martha remarked, setting the now-burnt toast on a plate. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“You’re sixteen, Mars.”

“Exactly. Old enough to comprehend that we’re in a tough spot.”

Marie’s lips quirked upward, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of weariness. “You’re still my little sister.”

“And you’ll always be my stubborn big sister,” Martha replied, hugging her from behind. “We’ll manage.”

Marie reached up to squeeze her hands. “We always do.”

The following morning, Marie arrived at the hospital earlier than normal. She wanted to avoid running into any board members. If they were going to terminate her employment, she preferred not to have an audience. She quietly went about her duties, keeping her gaze lowered. The other nurses offered her sympathetic looks but remained silent.

After lunch, she was called back to Mr. Whitaker’s room. Again. This time, she knocked more assertively before entering. “Back for another round?” the old man grumbled as she walked in.

“Just making my rounds,” she replied coolly, moving to check his vitals. “Any issues today, Mr. Whitaker?” He mumbled something unclear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“I said you’re too loud when you walk.” Marie fought a smile. “I’ll try to be quieter.”

As she adjusted his IV line, the door swung open. She didn’t look up until a familiar voice spoke. “Should I come back when the verbal sparring match is finished?” Marie turned to find Alex Whitaker leaning in the doorway with a coffee cup. He looked a bit more casual today, wearing jeans, a leather jacket, and his hair slightly messy. Still unfairly charming.

Mr. Whitaker waved a hand. “Maybe you can convince this one. She believes insulin levels are more important than chocolate.”

“Sounds like she’s trying to keep you healthy. How rude,” Alex replied dryly, stepping further into the room. Marie focused on suppressing the flutter in her chest. He’s just a patient’s relative. Nothing more.

“Hello, Grandpa,” he said, then nodded at Marie. “Nurse Allen.” Marie quickly offered a neutral smile. “Mr. Whitaker.”

“I’m glad you still have a job,” Alex said bluntly, taking a seat. “Barely,” she muttered.

“I spoke with the board,” Alex said casually, crossing his arms. “I told them I’d be very disappointed if they fired a promising nurse because of my grandfather’s candy outburst.”

Marie was taken aback. “You really did that?” He shrugged. “You needed some encouragement. I provided it.” She looked at him in surprise. There was no sign of arrogance, just a peculiar, steady calm.

Alex glanced at his grandfather. “You good here?”

“Bored, but not dead,” the old man grumbled. “Cool,” Alex said, then turned to Marie. “Walk with me?”

Marie hesitated for a moment, then agreed. “Sure.” They left the room in silence, strolling down the hallway side by side.

“Thank you,” she finally said. “For talking to the board. I didn’t see that coming.” “I know,” he replied. “You’re not the type to expect assistance. You’re the kind that carries everything until it overwhelms you.”

Marie bristled. “You don’t really know me.” “I know enough.”

They paused near the staff lounge, where the hall was quieter. “I meant what I said yesterday,” Alex continued. “I genuinely want to help.”

Marie crossed her arms. “Why?” “You mentioned yesterday that you can’t afford to lose your job. That you’re behind on bills and that you need the income for your sister's bone marrow transplant.”

Marie stayed silent. “I don’t need to know all the details,” Alex added. “But I’d like to. Because I might have a solution.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re intentionally being vague.” He smiled slightly. “I am. Because if I reveal everything now, you’ll decline.”

She studied him. “So you’re... what? Gradually warming me up to it?” “Something like that. Let’s call it a gentle pitch.”

Marie shook her head, half amused and half wary. “You’re quite confident for someone raised by a man who throws food.” Alex grinned. “I learned to adapt.”

There was a moment of quiet. Then he stated, “Dinner. Tonight. Just the two of us. No pressure. No expectations. Simply a conversation.”

Marie paused. She considered Martha. The mounting bills. The quiet anxiety she fought to suppress each day.

One dinner shouldn’t be an issue.

“Okay,” she replied. “Seven o’clock. But if this turns into a scam or a job proposal for a personal assistant, I’m leaving.”

Alex smiled. “Understood.”