Page 24 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

But this wasn’t my place to own. This was Ruby’s. Her vision. Her fight. I was just making sure she had the army she didn’t know how to ask for.

Someone handed me a fresh cup of coffee. A teen I didn’t recognize called me “Commander Cool.” Someone else started a rumor that I used to model in medical supply catalogs.

I let it all roll off.

Until I overheard the whisper from two townsfolk near the hydrangeas.

“Never seen the doc smile before,” one said.

“Is he actually… human?”

I glanced up, startled to realize my face did ache a little.

From smiling.

Somewhere in the middle of pipe repairs and flower rehab, I’d forgotten to be the emotionally sealed-off man who avoided messes.

Because I was too busy trying to save hers.

And maybe, without meaning to, save myself a little too.

…

I was elbow-deep in a bucket of wet ribbon spools when the front bell chimed.

I didn’t look up right away. Thought it was another volunteer, or maybe Hazel with more muffins and a fresh to-do list. But then I heard it—the pause. The quiet inhale. The unmistakable rhythm of her footsteps, halting at first. Then stopping entirely.

I turned.

Ruby stood just inside the doorway, frozen.

The shop buzzed around her. Teens rewrapping bouquets, townsfolk wiping down shelves, someone in the corner blasting a Motown playlist while petals practically floated through the air like confetti.

And her.

In jeans and a sweatshirt three sizes too big, eyes wide, lips parted in disbelief.

She looked like someone who’d come expecting a funeral and stumbled into a parade.

I set the ribbon down and crossed the space slowly, giving her time. Letting the moment stretch so she could take it all in.

When I reached her, I said the only thing that made sense.

“You didn’t think I’d just let it fall apart, did you?”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, glassy and full. “I—I thought I’d have to fix it alone.”

“You don’t.”

She nodded once, like she was still trying to swallow the truth of it.

Hazel passed behind her with a clipboard and gave me the tiniest smirk before disappearing into the back room.

The shop was glowing again—no longer perfect, maybe never perfect—but full of life. Of laughter. Of community. And Ruby stood in the center of it, not as a victim of chaos but the very reason this place still had a heartbeat.

She blinked back tears and whispered, “You did all this?”

“I just organized it,” I said. “They came for you.”

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