Page 37 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

“But I know one thing,” he added. “I’m not ready to leave you.”

My heart jumped and stumbled in my chest.

He looked tired. Raw. Real.

I stepped toward him—just one step—and stopped inches away. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for me, but didn’t.

“Then don’t,” I whispered.

Silence stretched between us, full of so many unsaid things. In my voice, I heard the hope—and the fear.

Because love wasn’t just about choosing someone once.

It was about choosing them every day.

And I wasn’t sure yet if he could.

But in that moment, I knew I could.

Chapter ten

Damien

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my charcoal-gray suit for the third time. The jacket hugged my shoulders like it had been stitched from memory. Tailored. Crisp. Immaculate.

It looked perfect.

And felt like a lie.

This wasn’t me—not really. Not anymore.

I ran a hand over my jaw, the familiar prick of stubble grounding me. Somewhere beneath the polished surface was the man who used to perform triple bypasses without blinking. Who used to chase perfection like it owed him something. Who used to believe that control meant safety.

The man who once stood in a sterile OR while the press hounded the hospital lobby for a glimpse of “the miracle surgeon.”

I remembered that surgery. A teenage heart transplant. Cameras outside. Reporters waiting. My mentor’s voicecrackling through my earpiece as I scrubbed in:“They’re calling you the golden scalpel now.”

As if that was a compliment. As if it didn’t make me feel like a tool instead of a man.

The kid survived. The headlines praised me. The board offered bonuses. And that night, I went home and stared at my ceiling in silence, wondering why I felt absolutely nothing.

I adjusted my collar. Loosened it. Tightened it again.

My phone buzzed from the dresser.

Brandon: Whatever you do tonight—don’t just play it safe. Play it honest.

I stared at the message.

Honest.

Like telling Ruby I’d been on the verge of leaving again.

Like admitting that I wasn’t sure if I knew how to stay.

The shop door had creaked when I stepped inside earlier that day. She’d been mid-laugh with Hazel, the sunlight turning her hair gold, a spray of eucalyptus in one hand. She’d turned, surprised. Her smile had faltered.

I didn’t blame her. I’d been halfway out the door of her life since the moment I stepped into it.

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