Page 90 of Doctor Hot Mess

I clink my mug against his, managing a small smile. “Thanks, Mason. You get me right to the place I'm ready to say I need to take the job, and then you go and snatch the rug right out. What if I lose this amazing man before we even have a chance to explore it?” I say through a fake cry.

“I know, Honey,” he says with a pat on my arm. “But, like you said, no matter what, you need to tell him. Now, enough about that since we have our decision. Let's grab a pastry or three. Life’s too short for indecision—or bad coffee.”

As we sip and laugh, for now, I can put this on a shelf. But I can’t let it sit there forever. The shelf’s only so big, and Jonah deserves to be a part of the decision.

Harper’s PoolHouse

5:44 PM

I sit cross-leggedon the couch with my laptop open in front of me. The cursor blinks on the email draft, taunting me with its emptiness.

My chest is tight as I stare at the message. All it needs is a few words, just a simple confirmation that I’ll accept the Hawaii assignment. Or, that I will decline it.

I've got it cued up and ready. Now, all I have to do is talk to Jonah. I have to do it tonight.

It’s a dream job, I remind myself. It checks every box I had when I became a travel nurse. But none of that erases the pit in my stomach—the gnawing fear that by saying yes, I might blow up whatever it is Jonah and I have started to build.

Talking to him will make it all clear. I don't know why I'm making such a big deal about it. Jonah has always been easygoing. No matter what other flaws he has, he might be the calmest person I know. I'll just put it all on the table and ask him what he suggests.

But then I go straight back to the loop and the 'what if's.' What if he sees this as me choosing work over him? What if this is the end before we’ve even had a real beginning?

The blinking cursor waits for me, but I close the laptop instead. For now, I can’t hit “send.” Not before I talk to Jonah. Not without figuring out how much of my heart I’m willing to risk.

I hear Jonah’s truck pull into the driveway. I put my laptop down on the coffee table and smooth my hands over my jeans. "Breathe, Harper. You've got this."

I step onto the porch and greet him as he gets out of his truck. He’s still in his scrubs, and his dark hair's slightly disheveled. There’s a tired smile on his face that makes my heart ache.

“Hey, you,” I say softly as I lean against one of the columns framing the opening to the porch.

“Man, you're a sight for sore eyes,” he murmurs, stepping in close. His hands find my waist as he pulls me to him for a kiss. A soft brush of his lips against mine sends all of the nerve endings in my body into a frenzy. It’s the kind of kiss that feels easy and familiar, but tonight, it’s a bittersweet reminder of everything I could lose.

I linger a moment longer than usual, hoping he doesn’t notice the hesitation in my movements. When we pull apart, his eyes search mine, and I force a smile.

“Come in,” I say, nudging him toward the door. “I ordered Thai. Your favorite. Uber Eats should be here any minute.”

“Perfect,” he says, dropping onto the couch with a grateful sigh. “You spoil me, Gray.”

I smile, but it feels fragile. “Jonah, there’s… something I need to talk to you about,” I say before I let the night get away from me until if finally convinces me it isn't the 'right' time.

His brow furrows slightly as he sits on the edge of the couch. “Is everything okay? Your tone and body language are making me nervous.”

I sit beside him with my hands twisting in my lap. “Yes. But something's come up, and you and I need to talk about howwewant to handle it.” I emphasize "we" to make it clear that I haven't made any decision.

"Okay…."

"I got an email a few days ago. About a travel nurse position. It’s kind of a big deal.”

He tilts his head, watching me. “Hmm. Tell me about it.”

“It’s in Hawaii,” I say quietly. “It would be for six months." He's silent, so I figure I might as well get it all out.

"It starts in two weeks.”

Jonah’s expression doesn’t change at first, but I can see the flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe? Or something darker? “Two weeks?” he echoes.

“I haven’t decided anything yet,” I rush to explain. “I wanted to talk to you first. I thought… I don’t know, maybe we could figure out what’s best together. We haven't really discussed what it is we are doing long-term. I don't want to put any pressure on you either way, but this felt like something…” I trail off.

He leans back slightly, running a hand over his jaw. “So this isn’t just a hypothetical. You’re seriously considering it.”

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