Chapter 7
The cool air caressed Lili’s face. Christmas lights twinkled from the square. Mistletoe dangled from the street lamps, white sprigs bright in the night. Somebody in Kringle wanted to encourage public kissing. She grinned.
They walked toward his vehicle.
“You don’t have to do the hospital event,” Miles said. “I know Marie put you on the spot.”
“She didn’t. I want to help. I love kids.”
“You sure? There might be carol singing involved.”
She glanced at him. “Those kids deserve a good Christmas. And if singing is the price I must pay, so be it. It’s nice being included.”
“You are included. You know that, right?”
“I’m starting to see that, yes.”
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, and then he said, “I’m sorry about the napkin. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay. You surprised me, that’s all.”
“Sometimes I have a habit of doing things without thinking them through.”
“Like bringing extra sandwiches?”
“Exactly like that.” He smiled, and the awkwardness between them eased. “Apparently, I lose all sense of appropriate boundaries where you’re concerned.”
“Is that what that was? Inappropriate?”
“Normal people don’t reach across tables and touch the face of an acquaintance.”
“I think it was kind of sweet.”
He glanced at her, hope in his expression. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
They turned the corner onto Elm Street. Holiday lights adorned every single house. More lamppost mistletoe here too.
She glanced up at him. “Tonight was lovely. You were kind and funny, and I enjoyed being with you. I want you to know that.”
“Ditto.” He dropped his voice an octave.
“Miles—”
“I know it’s fast. I know you’re dealing with stuff. I know I should keep my mouth shut and be professional.” He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. “But I really like you. And I don’t know how to pretend I don’t.”
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only stand there looking at him while her pulse hammered and the walls she built threatened to crumble.
“I like you too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Miles took a step closer. “We should get you home.”
“Yes.”
Neither of them moved.
Then he smiled, a soft, genuine smile that warmed her despite the chill, and they started walking again. She matched his stride, and somehow they were closer now.
His truck sat alone under a streetlamp. Miles moved to open her door. Above them, mistletoe. She glanced up.
So did he.
“Oh,” she said.
“Um.”
They both stood there, looking at the mistletoe, and then at each other. The moment stretched. Charged. Full of possibility.
Miles’s expression shifted, uncertain, hopeful, wanting. “Lili—”
She didn’t let herself think. Didn’t let herself list all the reasons this was too fast, too risky, too much.
She tilted her chin up, waited, her heart slamming like a drum.
He leaned in, giving her time to pull away, to change her mind, to run.
She didn’t run. Instead, she moistened her lips.
His hand came up, and he cupped her cheek. Gentle. Asking permission.
Swept away, she closed her eyes, thrilling to this sudden recklessness.
And then her body remembered.
Hands on her face. Hands that started gentle and turned cruel. Hands that held her still while words cut deeper than any physical blow. Hands that said I love you and you’re worthless in the same breath.
David.
Her chest seized. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She jerked back, stumbled, almost fell.
Miles caught her elbow to steady her.
She let out a yelp.
Instantly, he let go and stepped back, hands up.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, I—” She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold the panic inside. “I’m sorry. I thought I could—”
“Lili, it’s okay.”
“It’s not. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just—” Her voice broke. “I can’t.”
His face went neutral. Professional. The doctor putting away anything that might make her more uncomfortable.
“Let’s go.” He gestured to the open truck door.
She climbed in, shaken to her core.
The drive back was silent. Miles kept his eyes on the road. Lili stared out the window and tried not to cry. She was so broken. Would she ever be normal again?
When he pulled into the clinic parking lot, she unbuckled her seatbelt before he came to a full stop.
“Thank you for tonight,” she said in a rush.
“Of course.”
She climbed out, closed the door, and scurried to her apartment without looking back. Inside, she locked the door and tested the handle. Secure.
Her apartment was dark except for the light spilling from the bathroom. The mirror above the sink showed her reflection: red sweater with the moth hole she’d decided was okay, hair windblown, face flushed.
She stared.
Who was she?
Not the woman who married David, thinking love meant being consumed. Not the woman who apologized for existing, for making him angry, for not being enough or being too much or whatever impossible standard he set each day.
But not the woman she wanted to be either.
That woman would have kissed Miles tonight. Would have trusted herself enough to know the difference between danger and desire.
Lili pressed her palms flat against the counter and leaned closer to the mirror.
She wanted to kiss him. She leaned in, ready to take the risk. Until her body betrayed her. Until panic swallowed everything. Until David won again. He was still controlling her. Still making her choices. Still keeping her small and scared and imprisoned.
Her reflection stared back at her. This was it. This was her life now. Running. Always running. From her job, from relationships, from anything that felt risky.
And for what? Safety?
She wasn’t safe. She was still trapped. A prison she built herself, with bars made of fear and walls made of “What if I’m wrong again?”
David had stolen two years of her life. How many more would she give him? She pressed her forehead against the mirror, feeling the cool glass against her skin. She couldn’t keep doing this. Something had to change.
She must change.
* * *
Miles drove home on autopilot, his mind still in the clinic parking lot under that streetlamp.
Lili wanted to kiss him. He was certain of it. The way she studied him, the way she tilted her face up and pursed her lips…
Then the panic. The way she jerked back like he burned her. The sheer terror on her face.
He’d scared her. Pushed too hard. Moved too fast.
He gritted his teeth, pulled into his driveway, killed the engine, and sat in the dark. Through the windshield, his house. Empty. Dark.
Home.
Except it didn’t feel like home right now. It felt like the place he slept between shifts at the clinic. The place where he heated up frozen dinners and answered patient calls and collapsed into bed only to wake up and do it all again.
When was the last time he’d actually lived in it? Not just existed, but lived?
He got out of the truck, locked it, and headed inside.
The house was cold. He forgot to turn up the heat before leaving. He flipped on the lights, tossed his keys on the counter, stood in his kitchen, and tried to figure out what to do with the restlessness crawling underneath his skin.
He should eat something. He drank cocoa at the café but had no real dinner.
His phone rang.
Miles stared at the screen. Mrs. Dalton.
Of course.
He almost didn’t answer. Almost let it go to voicemail, but habit was stronger than intention. “Mrs. Dalton. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, Dr. Ellis. I’m so sorry to call this late, but I’ve been lying here thinking about my medication adjustment, and I’m worried we increased it by too much. What if I’m too relaxed? What if something’s wrong and I don’t notice because I’m not anxious enough to pay attention?”
Miles closed his eyes and pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose.
“Mrs. Dalton, we talked about this. Anxiety isn’t protecting you. It’s just making you miserable.”
“I know, I know. You’re right. I’m being silly.”
“You’re not silly. But I need you to trust the treatment plan. If you’re still concerned in a few days, call the office and we’ll schedule a follow-up.”
“But what if—”
“Martha.” His voice came out firmer than usual. “It’s almost ten o’clock. Unless you’re having chest pain, difficulty breathing, or an actual emergency, this conversation needs to wait until morning.”
Silence on the other end.
“Oh. Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“It’s fine. Get some rest. Call the office tomorrow if you’re still worried.”
“I will. Thank you, Dr. Ellis.”
He hung up, set the phone on the counter, and stared at it.
When was the last time he told a patient no?
When was the last time he’d had an evening that didn’t end with a phone call about something that could wait until morning? When was the last time he’d had a life outside this clinic?
Sarah’s voice in his memory: You give everything to your patients and have little left over for me. I’m tired of competing with the entire town for your attention.
At the time, he thought she was being unfair.
Selfish. Didn’t she understand how much people needed him?
How much responsibility he carried? But standing in his cold, empty kitchen at ten o’clock on a Tuesday night, fresh from telling a patient she could wait until morning, something that should have been obvious but felt revolutionary, he saw it at last.
Sarah hadn’t been wrong.
He gave away everything. Every hour, every thought, every ounce of energy. Until there was nothing left for himself. Nothing left for her. Nothing left for anyone who wanted more than Dr. Ellis, the town physician.
Sarah wanted Miles. And “Miles” disappeared somewhere between college and medical school.
He thought about Lili. The way she left Dallas when the ER was killing her. The way she walked away from her ex, even though it meant losing everything. The way she said no tonight when she wasn’t ready.
She knew how to protect herself. How to set boundaries. How to say this isn’t working and walk away.
He never learned that. He learned duty. Responsibility. Service. The right thing to do. And while those were admirable things—things he liked about himself, he’d never learned his own needs mattered too.
Miles walked to his bathroom and flipped on the light. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror. Tired eyes. Lines around his mouth. He looked older than thirty-four.
This was who he’d became. A man in his prime who worked until he had nothing left. Who said yes to everyone except himself. Who couldn’t even have one evening without a patient calling about something that could wait.
What kind of life was that?
What kind of man was he if he couldn’t even claim his own time?
And if Lili did somehow, someday, decide she was ready for more—what would he even have to give her? Phone calls interrupting dinner? Evenings cut short because someone needed him? Another relationship where he was so depleted there was nothing left for the ones who mattered most?
No.
No more.
He’d spent years being the good grandson who came home when Gee needed him. The dutiful doctor who never said no to a patient. The practical man who did the right thing even when it cost him everything.
But being good hadn’t saved his marriage or made him happy or given him a life worth living. Maybe it was time to try something different. Maybe it was time to believe his own needs mattered as much as everyone else’s.
His phone rang again. Different number this time. He didn’t recognize it. No name was associated with it.
Miles picked it up, glanced at it, and let it ring.
One ring. Two. Three.
He set it down and watched it ring until it went to voicemail.
Then he turned off his phone. The silence felt strange. Unfamiliar. But also—
Freeing.
He walked to his laptop, opened it, and pulled up his bookmarks.
The answering service website he had researched six months ago.
Too expensive, he’d decided. Not worth it for a small practice.
He looked at the pricing again. Two hundred and fifty dollars a month for 24/7 coverage.
They screened calls, handled the non-urgent ones, and only paged him for true emergencies.
Two hundred and fifty dollars. Less than his electric bill. Less than his monthly takeout bill. What he’d really been saying was this: My time isn’t worth two hundred and fifty dollars a month. My sleep isn’t worth it. My life isn’t worth it.
He clicked “Start Service.”
Filled out the form. Submitted it.
Done.
Starting next week, patients would call a service instead of his personal cell. He’d get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. He’d be able to have dinner without his phone ringing. He’d be able to take Lili on a real date and give her his full attention.
If she ever gave him that chance.