Her passion was intoxicating. He almost envied her for it. Dan had felt something close to it, but when he’d shared his ambitions with his parents, telling them he was backing out of his original Callowhill acceptance and taking the position in New York, his father had all but backhanded him, cutting him with a slew of belittlements over what a stain he was to all that they’d worked for until Dan wanted to drown in his overwhelming shame. His mom had stared quietly down at the floor.
“When I talked to the current residents at the interview, they told me about the incredible cases they saw right from the start,” Harper continued. “One guy said he scrubbed in on a facial reconstruction for a gunshot wound his first night on call. It’s extraordinary to have opportunities like that.”
“So you’re a fan of the gore?” Dan asked. He’d never seen someone smile so radiantly over a bullet to the face.
“Love it. The more the better,” she said over the rim of her coffee cup before taking another sip. “I feel like it’s how I’ll know I’m really helping someone. Doing something that can save their life or change it so drastically … it’s an amazing privilege.”
“Why oral surgery?” Dan asked.
Harper’s mouth twisted. “I just told you.”
“No, I mean why oral surgery? Why not neurosurgery or cardiology or any other type of surgery?”
The change was instant. Dan watched the blinds close over her eyes and her arms cross over her chest. She gave him a stiff smile.
“I guess I just really love teeth,” she said, not meeting his gaze.
Dan gave a noncommittal hum as he sipped at his coffee. He wanted to press her for more. He wanted to dig, find the source of the sudden change and ask her about it, get every detail from it. Knowing that wasn’t an option, he studied her, tracing her features for anything they could reveal.
After a moment, Harper brought herself to look at him, peeking through the blinds and deciding how much he could be trusted to know. Something softened in her expression as she landed on some piece she could offer.
“I guess more than anything, trauma to the head and neck can change so much of a person’s life. Whether it’s pain from an impacted tooth, or trauma from a car accident, or even physical abuse—these patients will wear their experience on their faces forever,” she said, her eyes going somewhere far away again. “I won’t be able to take away the pain of their experience, but I can put care and compassion into every suture, work to minimize every scar, allow people to get back to feeling normal.”
Harper stared out the window for so long, Dan assumed she wouldn’t say anything more. But, in a whisper more for herself than for him, she added, “I want to make a difference.”
It was in that moment Dan knew he’d never deserve her, but he wanted to spend every day telling her how much of a difference her existence made.
Silence curled around them and Dan let it linger. He liked their ability to be quiet together. Everything about his reaction to Harper was new and disarming. Like being punched in the gut and grabbed by the throat, forced to stare into something beautiful and terrifying.
Harper gave him a self-conscious look, and he wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect that passionate flame that burned so brightly inside of her. He couldn’t help but reach across the table and place his hand over hers.
Harper looked at their hands and smiled—a beautiful, happy grin that made it hard for him to swallow. Their eyes met for an effervescent second and then her brow furrowed. She gently pulled her hand from his and glanced at her watch.
“I’m sorry, I’m blabbing on and on,” she said, not looking at him. “I should probably get going, though. I still have to study tonight.”
Dan deflated at the looming goodbye, but nodded in agreement, knowing he had to try to cram in some pointless late-night studying too.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said as they stood, and he helped her into her coat.
* * *
The walk to her apartment was freezing, the wind whipping their faces and leaving a bone-deep chill.
Harper brought her fingers up to her lips and blew into them a few times for warmth before giving up and shoving them into her coat pockets. Holding the grocery bags in one hand, Dan reached out the other arm and circled it around her shoulders, tucking her into his side.
When they got to her place, Harper untangled herself from his arm and ran up her stoop, jamming her key into the lock with record speed. She ushered Dan inside, and they crashed into the foyer, gulping down warmer air.