No Nurse Is Good Nurse

Dixie is on the phone, spinning her lie. She tells her friend she’s faking sick to skip a family thing, and once everyone leaves she’ll have the whole place to herself. Mid-sentence she hears Rachael coming in, so she kills the call and melts back into her sick act. Rachael says she called Reagan Foxx, a nurse and an old friend, just to be sure. Dixie tries to wave it off, but Rachael’s already set on it. When the house finally clears out, Reagan arrives—tall, calm, impossible to dodge. Dixie runs through every fake symptom she can think of, but Reagan’s already reaching for the stethoscope. “I don’t need that,” Dixie blurts, then adds, quieter, “I’m a lesbian, so…” Reagan offers the hospital instead. Dixie folds. Reagan’s hands are gentle but sure, checking pulse, temperature, nothing out of place. Dixie blurts that the trouble must be lower. Reagan nods, unfazed, and Dixie’s pulse jumps. She blurts about a fever instead. Reagan reaches for the thermometer. Panic flares. Dixie changes tack fast—leans in, lets her fingers skim Reagan’s wrist, voice low and hot. Reagan’s lips part, surprised but interested. The air thickens. Dixie keeps going. If the day has to be fun, it might as well start here.