Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

DECEMBER 26, 6:39 am

JACK

M y eyes flutter open in the darkness, and it takes a few moments for reality to settle in. I’m in Nessa’s bed, her body curled against mine, her breathing deep and even. I close my eyes again, letting last night replay in my mind—the taste of her, the warmth of her, and the simple, perfect joy of falling asleep with her.

But now it’s morning, and a rock of dread settles in my chest.

I reach for my phone, the screen lighting up with the text from my dad: details for my flight. It leaves in less than four hours. I should feel excited—eager to get up, shower, pack, and head home to see my family. That’s the plan I’ve had for months.

Instead, I feel…torn.

I glance at Nessa, still sleeping peacefully, and imagine what we could do if I stayed. Three whole days together before real life comes crashing down again—slow mornings, long conversations, maybe a movie or dinner out. But more than anything, just being here. Talking. Laughing. Getting to know each other better .

But my parents are expecting me, and I hate the thought of disappointing them—even though, at this point, I’ll be there for barely more than forty-eight hours before I have to turn around and leave again. My sister and her kids will have gone home to Grand Junction. I’ve already missed all the holiday traditions.

And when I return, it’ll be right back to the grind of residency with hardly a chance to catch my breath. My mom’s words from our call yesterday come into my mind: Do what’s best for you, okay?

The problem is, I don’t know what that is—I’ve spent these past few months ignoring my wants and needs, throwing everything I’ve got into taking care of my patients to the best of my ability.

Nessa stirs beside me, her hand brushing my shoulder. “Hey,” she whispers, her voice husky with sleep. “You awake?”

I roll toward her, smiling as her face comes into focus. “Good morning, beautiful.”

She burrows into my chest, wrapping her arms around me. “When do you have to go?”

I exhale slowly. “Flight leaves just after ten.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment in her tone echoes my own.

“I’ll be back on the twenty-eighth,” I say, trying to ignore the fact that I’ll get home around nine p.m. and have to be up at five the next morning. “Can I see you that night?”

“You better,” she says, glancing up at me with a soft smile.

“It’s a date, then.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Our fifth, I think?”

She chuckles and nestles against me again. “What are you doing on New Year’s Eve? My roommates and I are throwing a party. I’d love for you to come. Meet everyone.”

My throat tightens. “I can’t,” I say, hating the words even as they leave my mouth. “That’s when I start night shift. Seven to seven, for a month.”

She pulls away, propping herself on one elbow and brushing her hair out of her face. “A whole month? I don’t even get home from work until six-thirty or seven, usually. Do you have weekends off, at least?”

I shake my head. “Just Wednesdays.”

Her expression falls, and it hits me—what she said about never being anyone’s favorite. She almost seems to be bracing herself, expecting to be let down. Her roommates both left, her parents are on vacation together, and Nessa hasn’t said a word of complaint, but deep down, I’m sure she feels abandoned. Like everyone else has somewhere better to be. I hate that I’m the one making her feel that way again.

“This is why I didn’t try to meet you before,” I tell her. “I wanted to—but I knew it’d be hard. My life…it doesn’t leave much room for anything else.”

“I get it,” she says softly. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, Nessa.”

My words can’t begin to capture how sorry I truly am. I’ve only just started getting to know her and already real life is barging in. I’m leaving, and when I get back, we’ll hardly see each other. What if, after spending this perfect night together, I never really get a chance with her? It feels like such a terrible waste. This spark between us, blown out before it even has an opportunity to grow.

But it would be crazy to change my plans for a girl I just met. Right? Kind of like how it was crazy to knock on her door in the first place.

She gives me a small, tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s really okay. You should get ready for your flight.”

I pull her close again, pressing a kiss to her lips, then her jaw, her neck, nipping at her soft skin with my teeth and making her laugh.

“I think I can spare fifteen minutes,” I say. “If you’re up for that? ”

“I am so up for that.”

In my apartment, I move on autopilot—shower, get dressed, check my bag. I glance out the window near my bed. The sky is a pale gray, the city beginning to wake.

My mind drifts back to how I felt when I first arrived here. The anxiety, the uncertainty, questioning why I’d even applied to a residency so far away from home. And every day since, my doubt has deepened.

Meeting Nessa is the first time I’ve felt like maybe there’s a reason I’m here.

Shaking my head, I sit on the edge of my bed and pull on my shoes. I’ve seen too much tragedy and suffering in residency to believe that everything happens for a reason.

But then I think back to my conversation with Nessa as we lit the candles last night. Finding light in the darkness. Hope, even in the worst of times. Trusting that what we have—and who we are—will be enough.

I’ve never been one to dig too deep into the meaning of Christmas. Growing up, my family read the stories—about shepherds seeing angels, wise men following a star—but they always just felt like words. Now, I think I’m finally getting it. The heart of the holidays isn’t in flawless plans or finding the perfect gifts. It’s in the unexpected—the surprises you never saw coming, the unplanned moments that shift your perspective and change the way you see the world.

Like meeting someone who makes one night celebrating two holidays feel like the start of something bigger.

Maybe that’s the real message: that the best things come when you let go of expectations and stay open to whatever life brings your way. That even when the path feels uncertain, it might lead you exactly where you need to be.

And I know where I need to be.