Page 11 of Doctor Neighbor

Sweat drips down my face as I hit the pull-up bar next. I crank out set after set, my back muscles rippling with each rep.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The tattoo on my peck gives me comfort. Then I check out my physique. I always focus on my problem areas, but I take care of my body overall. Yeah, I look good. Too bad Lara couldn't appreciate it.

I finish with a punishing set of burpees, my heart pounding in my chest. By the time I'm done, the gym's starting to fill up. Perfect timing.

As I towel off, I think about the boxes waiting in my car. All my stuff is ready to be moved into the new condo. It's a fresh start; I've earned it with every drop of sweat here this morning.

Park Place Condominiums

300 18th Street South, Unit 2007

9:54 am

I hoist the first box from my Tahoe, muscles straining under the weight. The late summer heat hits me like a wall as I step out of the air-conditioned cab. Sweat beads on my forehead before I even reach the building's entrance.

Fuck, it feels like there is a wet blanket under a heat lamp over this city. The air is so thick and hot that I don’t have to do anything, and I’m sweating like a pig.

The complex is nice enough—modern, with clean lines and a fresh coat of paint. It's not the million-dollar dream home I'd planned on, but it's outside of Lara's personal circle of hell, and that’s what matters most.

I punch the elevator button, shifting the box in my arms. As the doors slide open, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. Tired eyes stare back at me, but there's something else there, too. Hope, maybe?

The elevator deposits me on the second floor, and I make my way down the hall. My new home awaits—unit 2007. I fumble with the keys, nearly dropping the box before I manage to unlock the door.

Inside, the condo is a blank slate. Bare walls, empty rooms except for the few pieces of furniture that were delivered yesterday, and the faint smell of fresh paint. It's smaller than what I'm used to, but it's mine—no ghosts of failed relationships haunting these corners.

I set the box down in the living room, taking a moment to catch my breath and look around. The kitchen stuff won't arrive until Monday, and the rest of the furniture in a few weeks, but I can already picture how I’ll set things up—a fresh start on my own terms.

As I head back down for another load, a mix of emotions washes over me. There's relief, definitely—freedom from the constant tension of living under the same roof as Lara. But there’s also a twinge of sadness. This isn’t how I imagined my life would go. I keep thinking about the fact that my entire life savings are over there in a house that Lara is living in.

Still, as I grab the next box from the Tahoe, I can't help but feel a spark of excitement. It's a new chapter, a chance to redefine myself. No more walking on eggshells, no more suffocating under the weight of a toxic relationship.

I may be starting over, but I’m looking forward to what comes next for the first time in a long while.

Still restless, I take the stairs back down, figuring I can get in a few more steps. The late summer sun hits me full force as I push open the stairwell door. I squint, shielding my eyes, when something catches my attention.

Across the way, I spot the glimmering surface of a pool. How did I miss that before? Curiosity gets the better of me, and I walk toward it instead of my car to check it out. I saw it on the listing sheet. We didn't come over to look at it when we checked everything on my list to save time.

The pool area is nicely landscaped, with palm trees and lounge chairs scattered around the deck. It's not huge, but it's well-maintained and inviting. I can already picture myself unwinding here after a long shift at the hospital.

Nice… I approach the edge, dipping my hand in the water. It's cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the Alabama heat. A few residents are lounging nearby, soaking up the sun or reading books under umbrellas.

"This'll do nicely," I mutter to myself, a grin spreading across my face.

I've never had a pool, but I always dreamed about coming home from work and chilling on a giant, pink flamingo float with a cupholder while I put down a few brewskis. It's not just about relaxation—I can see myself getting in some laps here, too, keeping up with my fitness routine without hitting the gym every day.

As I stand there, taking in the scene, I feel a weight lift off my shoulders. This place, this new start—it’s exactly what I need.

I linger for a few more moments, letting the possibilities sink in. Then, remembering the boxes waiting in my car, I reluctantly turn away from the pool. There's still work to be done, but I already know where I will be after I haul everything up.

As I open the gate to leave, my eyes lock on a familiar figure walking toward me. It's Cole, heading straight for the pool. My heart skips a beat. Three times in a week after four years of radio silence? The universe must be having a laugh at my expense.

I freeze, unsure whether to bolt or stay put. But there's no avoiding her now. We're on a collision course, and I'm acutely aware of how awkward this is about to be.

As she gets closer, I notice she's not alone. A little girl, probably around four or five, skips alongside her. The kid's got a miniature version of the pink flamingo float I was daydreaming about tucked under her arm. Talk about cosmic irony.

"Hey, Cole," I manage, trying to sound casual. "Fancy meeting you here."

Cole's eyes widen in surprise, then narrow slightly. "Dr. Hankel. I didn't realize you lived here."

---