6. Markus

CHAPTER 6

Markus

At least three pairs of eyes zoomed in on me when I opened the door and stepped into the common room. The shift in the atmosphere was immediate—a hush fell over the space like I’d caught everyone mid-mischief. It wasn’t the kind of quiet born from boredom or politeness; this was thick, heavy with the weight of interrupted gossip.

Even after only a few days here, I’d learned that the residents were masters of the grapevine, every bit of news and speculation passing through their hands faster than a holiday flyer. I’d have bet every penny in my savings account that I’d been the hot topic before I walked in.

And from the way Nicholas’s eyes widened across the room, I was pretty sure I’d have won that bet—and a tidy sum on top.

The common room was bright and cozy, with a seating area near the bay windows where Beverly and Mrs. Thompson had set up their usual stations: Beverly with her crossword book, and Mrs. Thompson with her knitting needles clicking away. Nearby, a shelf held puzzles and magazines for anyone who cared to grab one.

The nurses’ station was just off to the side, separated from the seating area by a low counter and a frosted-glass partition that gave the staff some privacy while keeping them within sight of the residents. Nicholas stood there now, his back to the room, head bent over something on the counter.

A supply cart sat parked a few steps away, stocked with neatly organized boxes of gloves, bandages, and other essentials. It looked like he’d been in the middle of restocking the nearby shelves before my arrival derailed his focus.

Even from across the room, I noticed the way his ears had turned pink. The blush crawled up the back of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his scrubs. It made me wonder—what had him so flustered?

“Markus, there you are. Come here, dear, we need to talk.” Beverly’s voice pulled my attention away from Nicholas.

He must have heard it too because his head shot up. His gaze locked with mine for the briefest moment before he turned back to the counter like it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. The pen in his hand slipped from his fingers, clattering against the surface.

He scooped it up quickly, muttering something under his breath.

Adorable.

I crossed the room to where Beverly sat, perched in one of the armchairs near the window, her pencil poised over her crossword book. Mrs. Thompson sat opposite her, knitting needles clicking steadily as she observed me with what could only be described as amusement.

“Good afternoon, Beverly. Mrs. Thompson.” I offered a polite smile, already sensing I was about to be drawn into something.

“Afternoon, Dr. Webber.” Mrs. Thompson adjusted her glasses and gave me a look that felt far more appraising than a simple greeting required. “How’s the Hollow treating you now?”

The Hollow. That’s what the locals called Juniper Hollow, as if it were some hidden gem tucked into a storybook. It had a certain charm, I’d give them that.

“It’s... quiet,” I said, tucking the clipboard under my arm. “A lot quieter than San Francisco.”

“Quiet’s good for the soul,” Beverly chimed in. “But I imagine it’s a bit of an adjustment for you, dear. Have you had the chance to explore much of the Hollow yet?”

“Not much, no. I’ve been focused on settling in at work.”

Beverly’s expression became thoughtful. “Well, that’s no good. A doctor can’t just work all the time, especially during the holidays. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Thompson?”

Mrs. Thompson smirked, the corners of her mouth quirking upward as if she knew exactly what was coming next. “Absolutely. Someone ought to show him around. Make sure he sees the charm of this little town of ours.”

My pulse picked up, and I glanced over my shoulder toward the nurses’ station. Nicholas had moved to the supply cart and was methodically restocking the shelf. Boxes of gloves and hand sanitizers passed through his hands in careful, deliberate motions, his focus laser-sharp.

Mrs. Thompson followed my gaze. Her smirk widened, like a cat watching a particularly tasty mouse stroll by. “Nicholas knows this town like the back of his hand. I’m sure he’d be happy to play tour guide.”

Nicholas froze mid-reach, a box of bandages in his hand. “I’m sure Dr. Webber can figure it out on his own,” he muttered, his voice barely carrying across the room.

Beverly wasn’t deterred. “Nonsense. He needs the real Juniper Hollow experience, and who better to give it than you? You’ve lived here your whole life. No one knows this place better.”

The blush that had faded from Nicholas’s neck came roaring back, and he spun toward the cart, fumbling to place the box in its proper spot. “I’m not a tour guide.”

“You’re better than a tour guide,” Beverly said, her grin widening. “You’ve got such a way of making people feel at home. Haven’t you noticed that, Dr. Webber?”

Her words caught me off guard, but I recovered quickly, nodding. “I’ve definitely noticed. It’s not every day someone takes the time to make a newcomer feel welcome the way Nicholas does.”

Nicholas groaned softly, pressing the box of bandages onto the cart with a little more force than necessary. “You’re all terrible.”

Beverly chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “You’ll thank me later, Nicky.”

Nicholas whipped around, his eyes narrowing at her. “Beverly, it’s Nicholas.”

The warning in his tone might’ve worked if he didn’t look so much like a disgruntled kitten with his fur standing on end.

I cleared my throat, trying to smother a laugh. “I think I’m managing fine. But I appreciate the thought.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Beverly continued, ignoring Nicholas entirely. “He spends all his time working or running after that brother of his. Now that Aiden’s off to college, I bet he doesn’t know what to do with himself. A little holiday cheer would do him good, don’t you think?”

Nicholas’s hands planted firmly on his hips, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I do just fine, thank you.”

Mrs. Thompson chuckled, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “Don’t be such a Grinch, Nicholas. It’s Christmas.”

Nicholas’s shoulders rose as he let out a long, measured breath. “I’m not being a Grinch. I just?—”

The rest of his words were swallowed as I took a step closer, my presence seeming to startle him into silence. His eyes darted to mine, and for a moment, the tension in his stance faltered. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

“I’ll keep the suggestion in mind,” I said, offering Beverly and Mrs. Thompson a polite nod. “But I think we’ll leave the decision to Nicholas.”

Beverly looked positively triumphant, and Nicholas looked like he might implode on the spot.

His hand gripped the cart a little tighter, his knuckles blanching. “I’m not exactly the best person for that kind of thing,” he mumbled, his words directed more toward the cart than anyone. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

The cart squeaked as he pushed it toward the hallway, his movements hurried, as if he couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

I watched him go, the corners of my mouth twitching. Even in his grumpiest moments, Nicholas had a way of making it impossible not to smile. And, God help me, I was starting to like that about him.

Beverly leaned closer, her voice low enough that only I could hear. “He’s a tough nut to crack, but he’ll come around. A little patience and a lot of charm—that’s all it’ll take.”

My chest tightened as I straightened, adjusting the clipboard under my arm. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, Beverly.”

“Just call it experience, dear.” She tapped her pencil against the crossword book resting on the small table in front of her. “You’ll see.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but as I headed toward the hallway, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t entirely wrong.