Touching Tension 4

Chapter Four: The Invisible String

The next morning at WellSouth, the air inside the facility buzzed--not with gossip, but with the regular chaos of a Thursday shift. Med carts rattled, charting screens flickered, and call lights blinked like impatient fireflies.

Evette stood at the counter reviewing a patient's pain med log, hair tied up, scrub top clinging slightly from the warm hallway. Her mind was focused--but only just. Something in her gut felt off.

She hadn't said anything to Eddie that morning. He'd gotten up before her, quiet as a shadow. No kiss, no good-morning whisper. Just a note on the counter: "See you later. Be safe. Love you."

It was the kind of note Eddie always left. The problem was... it felt too much like camouflage.

She was still thinking about it when she saw Brittany step off the elevator.

The CNO looked put together as usual--designer scrub jacket over fitted navy blues, braids partially up in a twisted crown, lips glossed and calm. But to Evette's eyes, Brittany seemed... lighter somehow. Relaxed in a way that didn't quite match the storm of the floor.

"Morning, baby girl," Brittany said, her voice smooth as always. "You're holding down my fort, I see."

Evette smirked. "I trained you, remember?"

Brittany winked and walked behind the desk. "And thank God you did. None of these newbies can manage without trying to quit halfway through their orientation. Got these babies crying in the supply closet by week two."

They shared a laugh, but the old warmth in Brittany's eyes flickered.

Then it was there--the tension. That invisible string.

Evette felt it in the way Brittany's gaze lingered a half-second too long, the way her smile twitched when she wasn't talking. Something hung between them.

Evette leaned closer, lowering her voice. "You good? You look like you slept for the first time in weeks."

Brittany looked at her, lips parting, as if weighing something behind her teeth.

"Had a good evening," she said carefully. "Massage helped."

Evette tilted her head. "Oh yeah? Eddie went over after I passed out."

"Mmhmm." Brittany busied herself with the computer. "He's got strong hands, I'll give him that. I see what you meant."

Evette laughed, but something about Brittany's tone made her stomach flutter--not with jealousy, exactly, but with an old, familiar nervousness. The same kind she'd felt the night they kissed behind that hospital, before the boundaries were set.

That moment still lived under her skin, like a tattoo she'd covered but never removed.

She hadn't forgotten what Brittany's lips felt like. Or how safe she'd felt in her hands, even if just for one confused, exhausted, alcohol-soaked night.

That memory was supposed to stay buried.

But now... it scratched at the surface.

________________________________________

Later That Evening

Eddie came home with dinner--Evette's favorite: lemon pepper wings and sweet potato fries. He placed the bag on the counter like a peace offering.

"I figured you'd be wiped," he said.

Evette turned from the sink, drying her hands. "Long day, yeah."

He kissed her cheek. She didn't move away, but she didn't lean in either.

"You seem off," he said.

"I could say the same about you," she replied gently.

Eddie blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said, walking past him to grab plates, "you're moving like someone carrying something too heavy."

He didn't answer at first. Then: "I'm just tired. You know how these new placements go."

Evette handed him a plate. "She said the massage helped."

Eddie froze for a heartbeat. "Brittany?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "Good."

But Evette was watching him now, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You looked her in the eyes when you massaged her?"

Eddie hesitated. "No. I keep it professional."

Evette stared at him a little longer, her fingers brushing over his as she passed him a napkin. "Brittany's not the type to keep things professional if she doesn't feel like it."

Eddie didn't respond.

Evette wasn't sure what she was digging for--but something inside her was telling her to keep digging. Something felt off. She knew both of them too well. And she'd seen that old glint in Brittany's eye. The same one from five years ago.

The one she remembered right before she leaned in and kissed her.

And now, it was back.

________________________________________

At Brittany's House

Brittany stood in her bathroom, robe on, toothbrush in hand. But she wasn't brushing. She was staring in the mirror, heart beating too fast.

She'd almost confessed. Almost said something to Evette when they were laughing. Almost slipped.

That was the problem with lines. You cross them once, and suddenly you don't remember where they were in the first place.

She set the toothbrush down and whispered to herself:

"Keep your damn mouth shut."

But her reflection stared back, unconvinced.