Page 46 of Doctor Hot Mess

Lila rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but enjoy the easy back-and-forth between them. There’s a lightness here, a sense of family that feels… comfortable. It’s odd that I never even knew he had a sister before she landed at the ER on my shift. I wonder what else I don't know about Jonah.

The burgers turn out to be as good as Jonah promised—perfectly cooked, despite Lila’s teasing. We eat outside, the three of us trading stories and laughing as the sun dips lower in the sky, painting the patio in soft, golden light.

“So,” Lila says at one point, smirking at her brother. “What’s the over-under on you actually cleaning that grill tonight?”

Jonah points a fry at her. “You’re lucky I haven’t banned you from my house.”

“You wouldn’t survive without me here to keep you in check,” she fires back, grinning.

“Debatable,” Jonah mutters, but the affection in his voice is unmistakable.

As the plates empty and the conversation slows, Lila stretches and stifles a yawn. “Well, I hate to leave the party, but I’m beat. Grilling must’ve exhausted me just watching. Even though I'm feeling a hundred percent better than yesterday, I have a short window of alertness.”

Jonah gives her a look. “You’re just looking for an excuse to avoid dishes.”

“Absolutely,” Lila says, standing and gathering her blanket. “Thanks for the confirmation.”

She winks at me as she heads inside. “Harper, good luck dealing with him solo. Thanks for sticking around with me.”

“Hey!” Jonah calls after her, but his laughter softens the mock outrage. He turns back to me as the door slides shut behind her.

“Guess it’s just us. Again,” he says, his tone lighter than I expected.

“Guess so,” I reply, leaning back in my chair, trying to hide my unease. I know we need to talk. That’s why I went to the gym hoping to run into him and then came here afterwards.

His eyes linger on me for just a second too long before he looks away, reaching for his glass on the table.

The easy rhythm of the afternoon falters for a beat, silence settling between us as twilight deepens. The air has cooled, tinged with the faint scent of grilled burgers and the soft hum of distant traffic. I sip my drink, trying to ignore how hyperaware I am of the space between us, the unspoken weight of last night pressing down like a third presence on the balcony.

Jonah clears his throat, his fingers drumming once on the table before he speaks. “So… about last night.”

My chest tightens, a mix of relief and apprehension flooding me at the same time. “I came here hoping to talk about it,” I admit quietly, meeting his gaze. "I went to the gym today hoping I might run into you," I sheepishly admit.

"I'm sorry I missed you. If you had called, I definitely would have come to let you beat me at racquetball."

"Well, that would have defeated the hope of 'running into you'".

“Yeah, well…” He exhales, his smile faint but tinged with uncertainty. “Good point. I would like to talk about. The kiss, I mean. Of course, if you want to.”

I nod, setting my glass down. “I mean, yes and no. I don't know what to say, exactly, but I want to handle it better than I did last time.”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, his focus entirely on me. “Look, Harper, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I need to know… are we okay? Did I screw things up?”

His words throw me for a loop—not because Jonah doesn’t have depth, but because he rarely shows it. He’s the guy who’s always got a joke, always ready to keep things easy and light.

He’s meeting me halfway, no deflection, no armor. It’s unexpected and disarming in the most alarming way.

Maybe that’s what’s been throwing me off since last night—that pull I can’t seem to ignore, no matter how hard I try. He seems to be trying to remove some of those masks with me. Or has he just matured since the last time I lived here?

“We’re fine,” I say softly, though the words feel heavier than they should. “It’s just, honestly, I don't know what to say.”

He nods as if he expected that answer but hoped for something simpler. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” he says after a pause, his voice low. “But I’m not going to lie, Harper. That kiss… it wasn’t nothing.”

The honesty in his words steals my breath for a moment. I glance away, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my glass. “It wasn’t nothing for me either,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

He leans back slightly as if my admission throws him off balance. For a moment, the tension between us feels almost unbearable. The weight of everything unsaid hangs in the cooling air, and I don't feel the need to fix it or fill it or explain it away.

“I don’t know what this is,” I say, meeting his gaze with a mix of determination and trepidation. “But I know one thing—I feel like this pretending none of it was nothing, or all of it was nothing, or, I don't know what I'm saying. I'm an idiot.”

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