Page 8 of Healing Hearts
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Smooth.”
“I try,” he says, grinning. “And you know what? You’re pretty good company, too.”
“Thanks,” I say softly, suddenly feeling like I’m living one of Sophie’s stories—a chance encounter, a spark of connection, and the thrill of something new. It’s almosttooperfect.
We both laugh, and as the conversation continues, I find myself relaxing more and more. It’s easy talking to Trevor—easier than I expected. I tell him about some of the more ridiculous library stories, like the time a kid tried to check in a pet turtle he found in the park, and he tells me about the chaos of managing emergencies in the ER during a hurricane.
It’s almost midnight when we finally finish the burger, and I realize how late it’s gotten. The restaurant section has mostly emptied, the only sounds now the faint clinking of glasses and the murmur of a few lingering patrons.
“Wow,” I say, glancing at the clock on my phone. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“Time flies when you’re sharing stolen burgers,” he says with a smile. “Can I walk you to your car?”
“Sure,” I say, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. We stand, and he places a gentle hand on the small of my back as we make our way outside, the cool night autumn air washing over us.
When we reach my car, I hesitate for a moment before turning to him. “Thanks for...the burger…and the company.”
“Anytime,” he says, his voice low and warm. He leans in, brushing a light kiss on my cheek that sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Maybe I could have your number?”
“Ah…sure,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper as I type my number into his phone.
“Goodnight, Brooke,” Trevor says as he closes my door for me.
“Goodnight, Trevor.”
As I drive away, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m teetering on the edge of something incredible. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this light, this connected to someone—even if it’s just for a night. I don’t know where this will go, or if I’ll ever see him again. But at least I had a pleasant evening and fuel for a scene in a Sophie Quinn book.
Chapter 4
Trevor
The salty breeze whips through my hair as I push myself along the marina's jogging path, my feet pounding a steady rhythm against the pavement. Dawn's soft light shimmers on the water, painting the world in hues of pinks and golds. My muscles burn pleasantly, a reminder of the grueling shifts I've pulled at the hospital this week. But my mind is on something else…someone else.
It's onher.
Brooke.
I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips as I relive our encounter at Hooplas last night. The way her emerald eyes lit up when she laughed or how she leaned in close to be heard over the crowd.
"Get it together, Jacobs," I mutter to myself out loud, shaking my head. But the memories keep flooding back.
"So, Dr. Jacobs," she'd said, a playful glint in her eye. "What's your professional opinion on the age-old debate: pineapple on pizza, yes or no?"
I laughed, caught off guard by her whimsical question."As a medical professional, I'd have to say... absolutely yes. Vitamin C is crucial."
Her responding giggle had been music to my ears."A man after my own heart. Though I'm not sure how much vitamin C survives the cooking process."
"Ah, but the placebo effect is powerful,"I'd countered with a wink.
Now, as I jog past the rows of bobbing boats, I find myself wondering what other surprises Brooke might have in store. She wasn't just beautiful – though God, was she ever. There was a depth to her, a quick wit that kept me on my toes in the best possible way.
I slow my pace, wiping sweat from my brow as I near the end of the path. My body craving rest, but my mind is alive with possibilities. For the first time in ages, I feel a spark of something beyond the day-to-day grind of the hospital.
"Maybe it's time to take a chance," I muse aloud, surprising myself with the thought. What’s the worst thing that could happen?
As I turn back towards home, I make a mental note to give Brooke a call later. My heart races a little faster, and I'm pretty sure it's not just from the run.
The cool morning air nips at my sweat-dampened skin as I round the final bend of the jogging path. My feet slow to a stop, and I take a moment to catch my breath, hands on my knees. My thoughts drift back to Brooke again, and I can't help but chuckle. “God, Trevor, you've got it bad already," I mutter, shaking my head. It's been less than 12 hours since we met, and here I am, contemplating when to call her.
