Page 98 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

The more I wrote, the more I saw it: sun-drenched rooms filled with blooms and books, quiet corners with benches and tea, laughter drifting through wide open windows. A place where wellness wasn’t clinical—it was comforting.

Cedar Springs doesn’t need more appointments. It needs connection. And so do we.

I wrote that last part in bold.

And then, underneath it all, I added the simplest line of all:

Let’s build this together.

I folded the pages with a deep breath and slid them into a new envelope addressed to Damien. I didn’t text him. I didn’t send an email. Some things need ink and paper and a bit of courage.

When Hazel stopped by later, I handed her the envelope and grinned. “One last delivery.”

“Another love letter?” she asked, arching a brow.

“Kind of. But it’s also a blueprint.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Of course it is. You’ve always made beautiful things out of chaos.”

I tried to act cool, but my stomach twisted into a nervous knot the second she left. I wanted Damien to love the idea. I also feared he’d say no. That it was too much. Too fast. Too far from the clean-cut life he once led.

But mostly, I feared he’d think I was asking him to give something up again.

I wasn’t. I was asking him to make somethingwithme.

I watched the sky change colors as evening rolled in. The same soft golden glow spilled over the porch railing, and I sat on the steps, knees tucked under my chin, listening to the wind in the trees and the distant hum of life returning to Cedar Springs.

A week ago, I’d wondered if I still fit here.

Now, I realized the question wasn’t whether I fit—it was whether I could help this place grow, the way it had helped me.

That night, I slept with a calm heart and dreams full of wildflowers and wide-open doors.

Damien – Two Days Later

I stood just outside the hospital’s staff lounge, flipping through the letter like it might rearrange itself the fourth time I read it.

Ruby’s handwriting was like her—looping, expressive, unapologetically bold.

A community hub… floral therapy, heart health, mental wellness…Let’s merge our dreams.

My throat tightened.

I’d expected another beautiful letter, maybe poetic closure or another confetti cannon of emotions. What I hadn’t expected was a fully realized dream that somehow managed to feel like both an ending and a beginning.

Holistic healing. Rooted in the community. Rooted inus.

I dropped into the nearest chair, the hospital sounds fading behind the glass. I read the proposal again.

And then again.

There was no doubt. Not anymore. Not after the last surgery. Not after standing outside that little girl’s room, heart racing, realizing that I could be good at something… and still not want it anymore.

I didn’t want sterile brilliance.

I wanted mornings that smelled like lavender and afternoons that ended with soil under my fingernails. I wanted Ruby humming in the kitchen and a chalkboard by the door with the day’s community offerings scribbled in pastel pink.

My phone buzzed.

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