Page 45 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

I saw it.

I felt it.

But I didn’t let it reach me.

I brushed past him at the edge of the dance floor, my heels clicking against the polished wood, my fingers curled into my palms to keep from touching him.

“Ruby,” he said behind me, voice rough. “Wait.”

I didn’t.

I kept walking, past the strings of fairy lights, past the floral arch I’d once imagined we’d walk through together.

Not because I didn’t want him to follow.

But because I wasn’t sure I could survive it if he didn’t.

Chapter twelve

Damien

She was exactly where I thought she’d be.

By the river.

Always the river.

The gala buzz faded behind me, replaced by the quiet hush of water lapping against stone and the faint rustle of leaves. Ruby stood near the edge, her back to me, arms wrapped tightly around herself like she was holding her own world together.

The moonlight caught her profile—high cheekbones flushed from the cold, shoulders drawn in like she was bracing for a storm that had already hit. Her violet gown looked like it belonged on a red carpet, not beside a muddy riverbank, but she wore it like armor.

She didn’t turn when she heard me.

But I knew she heard me.

“You walked away,” I said softly.

Her head dipped, her fingers tightening on her arms.

“Because silence said everything,” she replied, her voice raw.

I took a step closer. The gravel crunched beneath my shoes, and still, she didn’t look at me.

“Ruby…” I exhaled her name like a confession. “No. It didn’t. It didn’t say nearly enough.”

She turned then, just slightly, enough for me to see her eyes. They were glassy, but not from tears alone. There was a fire in them too. She was always fire and ache and beauty all tangled together.

“Then why did you say nothing?” she asked. “Why did you let me walk away without a word?”

“Because I was scared,” I admitted. “Not of you. Not of this. Of me.”

That got her attention.

I stepped closer until we were nearly toe to toe, the river whispering behind her and my pulse roaring in my ears.

“I was scared,” I said again, slower this time, “that I wasn’t enough for you. That if I let myself fall into this... into you... I’d forget who I was. Or worse, I’d remember everything I ran from.”

She blinked, confusion flickering beneath the hurt.

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