Page 47 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

“It was,” I admitted. “But I didn’t know any better. I thought success would keep me safe. That if I was always the best, I couldn’t lose anything important.”

I looked out across the river, the way the moonlight shimmered off the surface like it knew too many secrets.

“My father used to say, ‘Love makes a man weak.’ He believed vulnerability was a flaw. Said people only love you when you’re useful, and the moment you slip, they leave.”

Ruby’s hand tightened around mine.

“I didn’t believe him—not at first. But then Mom got sick. Real sick. And suddenly, no amount of medical knowledge could fix her.”

I paused, feeling the old, familiar burn behind my eyes. “The day she collapsed at the hospital… I just stood there. Frozen. Watching the strongest woman I knew cry on a cold linoleum floor. And I couldn’t do a thing.”

Ruby didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. The warmth in her eyes was enough to keep going.

“I burned out two years later. On the outside, everything looked perfect—press coverage, awards, cutting-edge surgeries. But inside? I was unraveling. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t breathe. I started snapping at patients, staff… myself. One day I walked out of the OR and never went back.”

I turned to face her again. “Coming here was supposed to be a stopgap. A breather. I didn’t expect this town to feel like something I’d been missing. I didn’t expect you.”

Ruby blinked, slowly. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes shimmered, and not from the moonlight this time.

“You scare me,” I said again, voice rough. “Because with you, I don’t have to be perfect. And I’ve never… I’ve never let anyone see me when I’m not.”

A tear slid down her cheek, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away.

“And that,” I whispered, “makes me want to stay more than anything else ever has.”

She was quiet for a long beat. Then she reached up, cupping my cheek with a touch so gentle it made my knees ache.

“I don’t want perfect,” she said. “I just want real.”

“You have it,” I said. “All of it. The messy, cracked, healing pieces.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as they brushed along my jaw. “Then we’re already halfway home.”

I pulled her close, resting my forehead against hers.

The past didn’t vanish. It never does. But it stopped holding me hostage.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I had to run.

Not from her.

Not from this town.

Not from myself.

Ruby’s voice was barely louder than the breeze off the water. “I’m messy. I get scared. I screw things up. But I never once thought you weren’t enough.”

Something inside me cracked. Not violently. Quietly. Like the sound a heart makes when it begins to believe it’s finally safe.

She stood there, arms crossed tight, like she was holding herself together by sheer will. I stepped forward, slow but sure, and reached for her face. My hands framed her cheeks like I was afraid she’d vanish if I didn’t hold on. Her skin was cold from the night air, but the tear sliding down her cheek was warm.

I brushed it away with my thumb. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” My voice trembled, and for once, I didn’t try to hide it. “I love you, Ruby.”

Her breath hitched.

She didn’t smile right away. She just stared up at me like she was searching for cracks, for signs that I’d bolt like I always used to. But I didn’t move. I let her look, let her see everything—my fear, my hope, the part of me that hadn’t dared speak until now.

And then, finally, she closed her eyes and leaned in, her forehead resting against mine.

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