Page 78 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

Unstoppable. Unapologetically wild.

And, thanks to a box of stubborn freesia, right where she was meant to be.

…

The fluorescent lights in Cedar Springs General always buzzed too loud. But today, there was a strange quiet humming beneath it—a sense of peace. I hadn’t felt that here before.

I stood outside Room 204, a bouquet of soft pink peonies and white hydrangeas in my hand, courtesy of Ruby’s shop. The stems were neatly wrapped; the paper stamped with her swirling “Hearts in Bloom” logo. I smiled just looking at it.

Inside, the patient I’d operated on just days ago—Sophie Barnes, age thirteen, stubborn as they come—was propped up against a mountain of pillows. Her cheeks were flushed with color now, not fever. Her mom sat at the edge of the bed, reading aloud from a fantasy novel, but she stopped as soon as I knocked gently on the doorframe.

Sophie’s eyes lit up when she saw me. “It’s the flower doctor!”

I laughed and stepped inside. “That’s a new one. Can’t say I’ve had that title before.”

Her mom smiled. “She’s been calling you that since I brought those flowers in. She refuses to believe a heart surgeon would know a thing about daisies.”

I handed the bouquet to Sophie, who held it like a crown jewel. “Well, I’ve recently become an expert, thanks to someone very persistent and very floral.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Sophie asked boldly, nose buried in the blooms.

I blinked, caught off guard. “She’s… more than that.”

“Like a flower wife?” she asked innocently.

Her mom gasped, “Sophie—”

I chuckled, the sound easing something tight in my chest. “Not yet. But I wouldn’t mind if she was someday.”

Sophie beamed. “Good. I like her flowers. They smell like magic.”

I stayed for a while, chatting about her recovery and cracking jokes while she proudly showed off her heart monitor like it was a new bracelet. The girl had a spark. No fear. Just curiosity.

And something about that hit me hard.

This was what medicine used to feel like. Before all the pressure. Before the politics. Before I became more headline than healer.

After I said my goodbyes and stepped back into the hallway, I found myself walking slower than usual, taking in the hand-painted tiles from the kids’ art program, the bulletin board full of community events, the nurse I’d known since my first ER rotation waving from the station.

The town was small. But the impact—it wasn’t.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out without thinking, still smiling from Sophie’s sass.

One new voicemail.

I pressed play.

“Dr. Cole, this is Christine Lannister with New York General. Your recent surgical performance in the Barnes case was reviewed by the board—and it’s unanimous. We’re extending you an offer for full reinstatement. Not part-time. Full privileges. OR lead. You’d be returning at the top. Call me.”

I stood frozen.

Full reinstatement.

I hadn’t realized how long I’d waited for those words. Maybe not consciously. But somewhere deep, that ambition, that perfectionist buried in the past—it still breathed.

And now it had a door wide open.

But instead of adrenaline, all I felt was… weight. Like someone had just handed me a crown made of lead.

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