Page 91 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

And then, just like that, it was over.

“Heart rhythm stable,” someone said.

“She’s gonna make it,” another added, awed.

The team clapped softly, not the boisterous kind, but the kind born of shared relief.

The attending surgeon—Dr. Liu, maybe ten years my junior—stepped closer and clapped me on the back.

“Still got it, Cole,” he said, his eyes lit with admiration. “You just pulled off a miracle.”

I nodded, pulling off my gloves. My knuckles ached, the skin around them red and raw. “Thanks.”

“You sure you won’t consider staying?” he asked. “A guy like you—your skill, your instincts? We need more like you in this city.”

I gave a tight smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Appreciate it.”

He patted my shoulder once and walked off to debrief the family.

I stood alone for a moment longer, staring at the monitor’s soft blips. A living heartbeat. My work. My hands.

Still got it.

But the phrase rang hollow. Like a tune I used to love that now felt off-key.

Because when I’d saved lives before, it had filled something in me. A craving. A need.

Today?

Today it felt like muscle. Not magic.

It felt like going through the motions while my heart—ironically—was miles away in a quiet garden beneath string lights and lavender wind.

I stripped off my gown and pushed through the locker room doors.

Ruby’s voice echoed in my mind. That voice note I hadn’t had the courage to answer yet.

“I believe in us. In this. In whatever we’re building.”

The problem was, I wasn’t sure what I was building anymore.

I glanced at my phone. Still no messages from her. Probably busy planning events, planting things, being exactly the force of nature, I’d fallen for.

I should’ve been there.

Not here in steel and glass and glowing screens.

I should’ve been with her.

I sat on the bench, phone in one hand, the job offer still flagged in my inbox.

All the things I once chased—prestige, excellence, legacy—they were right here. On a silver platter.

But they didn’t feel like home anymore.

Not without the girl who taught me how to hold wildflowers without crushing them.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel proud of what I’d done in the OR.

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