Page 69 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

I didn’t call her.

Not yet.

How could I tell the woman I’d just promised to build a life with that a teenage girl’s broken heart had reminded me of who I really was?

That I didn’t just want to help Ava—Ineededto?

That I felt more alive in the last four hours than I had in a year?

I set the phone down and covered my face with both hands.

I was in trouble.

And I had no idea how to tell the woman I loved that my purpose might be bigger than the life we’d just started building.

…

The house was dark except for the flicker of a single candle on the windowsill. The storm had knocked the power out an hour ago, leaving everything hushed, cloaked in shadows and the rhythmic patter of rain on the roof.

Ruby was curled up on the couch in one of my flannel shirts, her knees drawn to her chest, a blanket wrapped around her like armor. She looked up when I stepped in from the porch, her eyes finding mine even in the low light.

“You’re late,” she said softly, not accusing—just knowing.

I nodded and dropped my keys into the bowl by the door. My shoulders ached. Not from fatigue, but from everything I hadn’t said yet.

She patted the space beside her, and I sat down, the quilt falling over both of us like a quiet surrender.

For a while, we didn’t speak.

The candle danced in the breeze sneaking through the cracked window, and I stared at it like it might offer the answers I didn’t have.

“I need to tell you something,” I said finally, my voice low.

She turned toward me, calm but alert. Like she knew the weight of the words before I even spoke them.

“There’s a girl. Fifteen. Emergency case. Rare defect—one I’ve seen before. One I’ve treated before.” I exhaled. “They don’t have anyone else here who knows how.”

Ruby blinked once, then twice, before asking, “Did you take it?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I didn’t even think. I just... did.”

She was quiet for a beat. Then: “Do you miss it? That adrenaline?”

I leaned back, pressing my head against the couch, and let the question hang in the air.

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But it’s not just the adrenaline. I miss being the guy who knew exactly what to do. In that room, with that chart, with those monitors—I didn’t doubt myself.”

Ruby turned toward me, the candlelight catching the gold flecks in her eyes. “And here?”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Here, I second-guess everything. Whether I’m enough for this life. For you. Whether I’m pretending I can leave that world behind when deep down, I know I never really did.”

Her fingers found mine under the blanket. “You still are that guy, Damien. The one who knows what to do. You’re just using those instincts in new ways now.”

I looked down at our hands—hers small and warm, mine still stained faintly with ink from Ava’s charts. I hadn’t scrubbed it off. Part of me didn’t want to.

“But it doesn’t have to be at the expense of everything else,” she added gently. “You’re allowed to still love that part of you. To need it. As long as you don’t forget the other things that matter.”

I turned to face her fully, taking in the curve of her jaw, the worry etched subtly around her mouth. “You matter.”

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