Page 54 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

I stared at the lake long after Ruby had gone back inside, her laughter still lingering in the corners of my mind like the faintest scent of wildflowers.

The letter sat on the porch table beside me, folded neatly, taunting me with its weightless promise of prestige.

Cardiac research lead. Flexible schedule. A team of the brightest minds in medicine. My name in headlines again.

But every time I reached for it, my chest tightened. Like my body already knew what my heart wasn’t ready to admit.

If I said yes, would I lose the only peace I’d found in years?

Or worse—would I lose her?

The breeze kicked up, rustling the trees. I picked up my phone and hit the contact I always did when the world felt too loud.

Brandon answered on the third ring, his voice a welcome blend of sarcasm and warmth. “If you’re calling to ask if you should get bangs, I’m hanging up.”

I huffed out a laugh. “I’ve got a letter.”

“Unless it’s from Santa, I’m not interested.”

“It’s from Manhattan General.”

There was a pause. “You opened it?”

“Yeah. They want me to lead the New Horizons research project. Hybrid flexibility. Prestige. All of it.”

He whistled low. “That’s your white whale, man.”

I didn’t answer.

“You haven’t said yes,” he added, catching the silence.

“No.”

“Why not?”

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, rubbing the back of my neck. “Because every time I picture going back… I don’t see me. I see the guy who forgot how to breathe. Who lived on black coffee and adrenaline. Who didn’t know how to stop until the shaking started.”

“Damien,” Brandon said, voice steady now. “You’ve already proven you’re a miracle worker. Your hands saved a thousand hearts. Maybe now it’s time to use them to build one.”

That hit harder than I expected.

“You think I’m just scared of going back?” I asked.

“I think you’re scared of letting go of the identity you’ve worn like armor. But I also think,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “that the guy who once stitched a newborn’s heart the size of a walnut while running on zero sleep… would be terrified of the life he actually wants. Because wanting something for yourself means you can lose it.”

I exhaled, slow and shaky. “I don’t want to lose her.”

“Then don’t.”

“But what if I’m wasting my talents by staying here?” I said, more to myself than to him. “What if I’m letting all those years of training go to waste just so I can string fairy lights with a florist who thinks daffodils have moods?”

He laughed. “Did you just call her the florist?”

I blinked.

Yeah. I did.

Brandon didn’t gloat. He didn’t have to. His voice dropped to something softer. “Look, you’re not turning your back on medicine. You’re choosing to use it differently. You’re allowed tohave layers, Damien. You’re allowed to be more than the sum of your résumé.”

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