Chapter 14

Christian

I scrub in with a haste that matches the urgency pulsing through the OR. There’s a life hanging in the balance, one I’m tasked with saving. I enter the room, and it begins. There’s no room for error or second thoughts as I navigate the complexities of the human heart.

The hours slip away under the bright surgical lights, but this is what I signed up for—the adrenaline, the responsibility, the unspoken promise to each patient that I will give them my all. But even as I delve into the work, part of me feels the pull of another responsibility, a personal one.

Hailey . The thought of her strikes unexpectedly, a pang of guilt amidst the triumph of a successful suture. I didn’t call to tell her about the change in my plans. She’ll be wondering, waiting, worrying. It’s an odd phenomenon to be concerned about something like this. Previously, my life was crafted to avoid these entanglements.

Finally sealing the last incision, I step back, peeling off gloves stained with blood. A collective sigh rises from the team. Success .

I shower and change, but the weight of the day presses down on me as I sit in my Porsche outside the hospital, staring blankly at the dashboard. Another emergency surgery, another life saved, but I told Hailey I’d be home hours ago. Addison will already be asleep, so I’ve missed yet another chance to tuck her in, to hold her for just a moment and forget the chaos.

It’s like I’m living two lives now, neither of them fully mine—the one where I’m the doctor with all the answers and the one where I’m supposed to be something more. And every time I’m pulled into the OR, I feel like I’m failing at both.

The drive home is a blur. I turn the key to unlock the house, silence greeting me. Anxiety dances in my chest as I step into the living room, my eyes adjusting to the soft glow of the lamp left on.

And there she is. Hailey, asleep on the couch with Addison curled up on her chest. Addison stirs slightly as I approach. I smile as her innocence tugs at something deep within me.

“Hey, beautiful,” I whisper, lifting her into my arms. She fusses, a whimper as dreams are momentarily disrupted. But she relaxes again as I carry her to her bedroom. Tucking her in, I watch over her for a few moments. Then I return to Hailey.

She hasn’t stirred, and as I stand over her, a wave of affection rushes through me. With a gentleness born from six hours of holding a beating heart in my hands, I slide my arms under her, lifting her with care. Her head rests against my chest, her breath warm through the fabric of my shirt.

“Let’s get you to bed,” I murmur, though she hears nothing. I walk softly to her room, laying her down. I pull the covers over her, watching the way her dark lashes fan out over her cheeks.

I linger another moment, caught in the gravity of her presence. But I retreat toward my room. At the doorway, I turn and watch again. I’ve promised myself I will keep things professional. She’s said that’s what she wants, and Dana has warned me not to involve myself with her friend, who deserves better. But every time I’m around Hailey, that resolve cracks. It’s not just the way she looks at me with those soft, unguarded eyes that see through all my defenses. It’s how she puts Addison first, even when she’s running on fumes. She makes me feel…something I’ve never felt, and it scares me.

I can’t afford to feel that way. Not with her. Not with anyone. This life I’ve built—it doesn’t have room for complications, for feelings that tie you down and leave you exposed. Because when you’re exposed, that’s when they leave you, and then you’re left wondering what you did.

But with Hailey… Damn it, she’s more than a complication. She feels like something I need. My heart races. I want to reach for her and hold on and never let go. I can’t even begin to process what that means.

As if sensing me there, she stirs, her eyes opening to search out mine in the dim light. “Christian?” Her voice is a murmur, laced with apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Shh,” I soothe, returning to perch on the edge of the bed. I brush back a stray lock of her hair. “It’s okay. I had an emergency surgery. Couldn’t get away.” I pause. “But I’m off tomorrow. We’ll do something together.”

She gives a nod, faint and acquiescent, before her eyes close once more, surrendering again to sleep. I stand and retreat to my bedroom, but I lie awake, restless, until a plaintive cry pierces the silence.

Addison .

I rise, grab the bottle of formula, and head to her nursery. I find Hailey already there, cradling Addison.

“Teething,” she explains softly. “I gave her some Tylenol.” In her arms, Addison fusses, seeking relief from an invisible pain.

“Let me—” I begin.

But Hailey shakes her head, carrying Addison back to the rocker. “I’ve got this. You must be exhausted from working two days straight.” They settle into the familiar motion, the soothing creak of the chair, and just like that, Addison returns to sleep.

With a nod, I slip away, my body aching with a different kind of yearning now. Alone in my room, Hailey’s image swims behind my closed eyelids, her soft smile, the gentle curve of her cheek, and I succumb to a need too primal to ignore. My hand moves of its own accord, pulling hard and fast, chasing relief, chasing her. My stomach coils as my climax builds. Release washes over me in waves, and I collapse into sleep.

It’s late morning when I wake the next day, later than I’ve slept in years. But the emergency surgery and subsequent restless night has taken a toll. Stretching out the stiffness from yesterday’s marathon in the OR, I shuffle down the hall to check on Hailey and Addison.

I find them napping on the couch—Hailey a human cushion and Addison’s cheeks still flushed from fever. I’m sure it’s just from teething, but I don’t like it.

“Hey,” I say softly, not wanting to startle them. Hailey stirs, and she looks up at me, bleary-eyed and disoriented. “You look like you could use a better nap than this.”

She smiles weakly, the kind that’s more about politeness than amusement. “I’m okay,” she murmurs, but her eyes plead for a moment of respite.

“Go on,” I insist. “I’ll take over with Addison. Maybe later we can have a nice dinner. Do something different for a change.” The promise of fun seems to revive her a bit, and she nods before standing, handing me the baby, and disappearing into her bedroom.

As soon as she’s out of sight, I check Addison’s forehead—warm but not burning with fever. I give her another dose of Tylenol, coaxing her to swallow it with a soft, encouraging voice. She does, and then, with a contented sigh, she drifts back to sleep. With her in my arms, I settle on the couch, flipping on the Whitecaps game. I pat her gently as the players dart across the screen. But the thrill of soccer is secondary now, replaced by the simple joy of being a father.

Addison and I make our way through the day, and I manage to feed her lunch when that time arrives. After taking her for a walk in the afternoon and putting her down for a nap, I pull up the internet, determined to remove making dinner from Hailey’s plate. I order food from my favorite restaurant and arrange for delivery. As I complete the transaction, an ad for Range Rover pops up. I look at the hybrid model and wonder if I should replace the minivan. The girls need a safer vehicle. With a few clicks, I can see that it seats seven, and the hybrid means it would work for longer trips. My grandfather had one, so I already know it’s comfortable. I keep on clicking, comparing options and accessories, and before I know it, I’ve bought a pearl white Range Rover, and I’m more excited than when I bought my Porsche.

All the urgency of the hospital seems worlds away when I’m here at home now.

The doorbell chimes, and I’m up in a flash, eager to retrieve the dinner. The aroma of gourmet cuisine wafts from the boxes as I set them out on the counter.

“Hailey,” I call up the stairs. “Dinner’s here!”

Moments later, she comes down the staircase, her hair tousled from sleep, a faint blush of strawberries emanating from her skin—the scent of her shower gel, perhaps? My heart skips a beat, despite my resolve to maintain a professional distance.

“Smells amazing,” she says, smoothing out the creases in her sweater as she approaches.

“I figured we could use something special tonight,” I reply, keeping my tone light.

Addison stirs in her playpen, her big eyes blinking up at us. We exchange knowing looks. She comes first, always.

We take turns, Hailey eating while I entertain and attempt to feed Addison some finger foods, making silly faces and blowing raspberries until she giggles. Then we switch places, and Hailey cradles Addison, cooing softly to her while I savor the exquisite tastes of truffle oil and seared scallops.

“Thanks for this,” Hailey says, her gratitude warm.

I just nod and smile, happy to have done this for her. The delicate gold chain around her neck catches my eye. “Tell me about your necklace. You wear it every day, right?”

“Oh, this?” She looks down at it, fingers tracing the outline of the butterfly pendant. A wistful smile lights up her face. “It symbolizes change. My grandmother gave it to me.”

I’ve finished eating, and Addison looks like she could use her bottle. Hailey realizes this at the same time, so she mixes it, and I lift Addison from her seat to feed her.

“What happened to your parents?” I ask.

“They couldn’t manage to be parents,” she confesses with a shrug. “They were living on a commune in Oregon, but they got deported back to Canada. They got some money when my grandmother passed, and they said they were going to wander around Europe. I haven’t heard from them since they left.”

I take in her words, contemplating the resilience and lost opportunities woven into the fabric of her life. “Your grandmother raised you?” I confirm. She’s spoken of that before.

“Yep.” She smiles. “She didn’t have much, but she was always my biggest supporter. Even when she died, she left me her life insurance policy. She wanted me to use it to follow my dreams, maybe explore Europe.”

“Sounds like she was quite a woman,” I say.

“The best,” Hailey replies softly. “She believed in being open to change…to new beginnings.”

She looks up at me, and I want to believe she’s telling me she believes those things too, that the way we started won’t define our relationship forever. But this is likely just a conversation I’m having with myself. It’s safer that way.

We move along to lighter topics, but in the back of my mind, there’s a persistent nudge, a mental note to find Cordelia at the hospital tomorrow and fill her in on how Addison’s feeling. She still seems a bit warm as she takes her bottle. For now, though, I focus on the present.

Hailey toys with the edge of the butterfly again, tracing the delicate wings. “I had this whole plan,” she says, her voice wistful. “After we finished school, Dana and I were going to wander for a year. I figured maybe my parents were on to something, and I should just see the world, let each day unfold for a while.”

I nod, about to confirm that this is still her plan, though I hate the thought of her leaving us, but then she sighs.

“Dana was all for it,” she continues. “But then my ex—Franklin—he had this great business idea, and I wanted to be supportive since we’d talked about getting married someday.”

“Sounds like you were committed to making it work,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“Too committed, maybe.” She looks down at her lap. “I offered to fund his idea with the money from my grandmother.”

My jaw tightens at the thought—her inheritance, meant for adventures and discovery, for her own education, poured into someone else’s ambition. “And he just took it?”

She looks up at me, her eyes clear, no trace of self-pity. “It was my decision to give it to him.”

“Still,” I mutter, anger bitter on my tongue, “it feels like this Franklin guy took advantage of your generosity.”

Hailey laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Maybe. He also encouraged me to quit school, so we could focus on the food truck. But in the end, the money wasn’t enough. His business flopped, and everything was wasted.”

I shake my head. The helplessness I feel is unfamiliar. I want to protect her, to rewind time and redirect her path away from this Franklin ass who squandered her dreams. But all I can do now is listen, feeling the weight of her lost opportunities.

The rhythmic suckling slows, and Addison’s tiny hand falls lax against my finger. She’s asleep again. Hailey’s gaze meets mine over the tuft of baby hair, a smile touching her lips. “See? She’s always calmer when we’re both here,” Hailey teases.

I shake my head and walk Addison back to her crib, laying her down with Hailey by my side. “Guess we make a good team,” I murmur, but suddenly, there’s a tension in the air, one that’s been building for too long.

I attempt to sidestep Hailey, to keep the boundaries intact, but she brushes past me first, her scent—a mix of baby powder and strawberries—fills my senses. I follow her to the kitchen, and before I know what’s happening, my hands frame her face, my thumbs caressing her cheeks as I lean down and press my lips to hers.

Her mouth is soft, yielding. She makes a small sound, one of surprise or protest, I can’t tell. I brace myself for the sting of rejection, for her hands to shove against my chest, for the end of whatever this fragile thing is we’ve been dancing around. But it doesn’t come.

Instead, she leans into me with a hunger that matches my own. Her arms loop around my neck, pulling me closer, deeper. This isn’t just a kiss, it’s an admission, a dare, a crossing of lines we can never redraw.

She’s fire and need against me, and every rational thought is drowned in the pounding of my heart. It’s crazy, stupid, and I can’t imagine our path forward, but God, how I want her.

“Christian…” she breathes, her chest heaving. She clutches the fabric of my shirt. “You are insufferable.” Yet there’s no bite to her words, just an intoxicating blend of exasperation and desire.

“Tell me to stop,” I challenge, searching her eyes for any sign of regret.

When she declines to do so, I’m on her again, claiming her mouth with a fervor that leaves us both gasping. I lift her with ease, her legs wrapping around my waist as I set her on the kitchen island.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” I manage between kisses.

The world narrows to the taste of her, the feel of her against me, the quickening beat of our hearts. I lead her through the quiet house to my bedroom, where all thoughts of loser Franklin, wasted dreams, and consequences fade into nothing. Here, now, there’s only Hailey and the undeniable truth that I’ve wanted this for far too long, and now I know for certain she wants it too.