Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Santos
The restaurant is warm, bathed in soft afternoon light that filters through the large windows overlooking Baker’s Creek.
This is one of the Merkel restaurants which isn’t anything too fancy, but it has that cozy, rustic vibe that fits perfectly with the town—like a place where everyone knows your name.
The air smells faintly of rosemary and garlic, and there’s a comfortable hum of conversation around us, the kind of background noise that makes everything feel alive but not overwhelming.
Halsey sits across from me, her chin resting on her hand as she flips through the menu with an amused smile. She’s in her element, the slight smirk on her lips telling me she’s already decided what she’s getting but just enjoys pretending to look.
Her hair catches the light from the window, and for a moment, I just watch her, the way her eyes flicker over the choices. God, she’s beautiful and I’m so fucking lucky to call her mine. Like she could take on the world with just a smile.
“See anything good?” I ask, my voice teasing, trying to pull her attention away from the menu and onto me. I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms with a grin.
She laughs softly, her eyes finally meeting mine. “Oh, I’m just pretending. I already know I’m getting the avocado toast with a side of fries. Balance, right?” She gives me a wink, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“That’s very you, Hals. Classy and unhealthy at the same time.”
She grins, setting the menu aside. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”
“Multitudes of fries,” I joke, leaning forward, my elbow resting on the table as I watch her. “You know, I’m surprised you haven’t married a potato yet.”
“I would, but I’m too busy being married to my job and handling two rowdy, loving men,” she fires back.
“So no regrets quitting the other practice and coming here, with your rowdy men—who, by the way, adore you?” I tease.
She leans back, taking a sip of her iced tea, and her smile softens into something more genuine.
“But really, I love what I do. It’s stressful, yeah, but there’s something about helping people, you know?
Seeing them get better, seeing them walk out of the clinic healthier than when they came in .
. . It makes all the long hours worth it. ”
I nod, listening, the warmth of her words sinking in. “It sounds like you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”
She shrugs, looking a little shy now, which is rare for her. “It feels that way. I never thought I’d find a place like this, but Baker’s Creek . . . It’s different. I feel like I’m needed here. Like I’m making a difference.”
“You are,” I say. I don’t mean only at her work, but also with us.
After that morning when we made love, things between us have been light.
It’s like we’re almost back to us. Dustin wasn’t happy to discover that we broke his no sex rule, then again, it’s his rule.
His trauma to fix and we’re there to help him.
When he’s ready I’ll be happy to fuck him—or let him fuck me. Halsey too.
We still sleep in the same bed, but every morning he wakes up to help the farmhands with the animals and the ranch. It’s a way to keep himself occupied and have a purpose. I always knew he had bought the place for more than just being away from the public eye.
Hals and I . . . well, we use the morning to have all the sex that we can, as long as my leg is okay.
“What about you?” she asks, shifting the conversation toward me. “How are things going with therapy? You look good—like you’re getting stronger.”
I let out a small sigh, glancing down at my hands before looking back at her.
“Therapy’s . . . working. I mean, I can feel it helping, you know?
My leg’s getting better, little by little.
But it’s not fast enough. I want to be on the ice again, and it feels like no matter how hard I push myself, it’s never fast enough. It’s frustrating.”
She reaches across the table, her fingers brushing against mine, and I immediately feel calmer, like her touch pulls me back from the edge of that frustration.
“You’ll get there,” she says softly. “I know it feels like forever right now, but you’ve made so much progress already.
You have to give yourself credit for that. ”
I nod, trying to take her words to heart, but it’s hard. “I know. But I feel like I’m falling behind. I watch the guys practicing without me, and it’s like . . . I should be there, you know? Not stuck in therapy, learning how to walk all over again.”
She squeezes my hand gently, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You’re not falling behind, Santos. You’re healing. That’s just as important as skating.”
“Yeah, well . . . patience has never been my strong suit.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “It’s more than just the physical part, though.
My head’s been all over the place. Therapy’s been making me face a lot of stuff I haven’t dealt with.
My dad . . . the pressure he put on me growing up.
It’s like his expectations are always there.
And every time I don’t meet them, even now, it’s like I can hear his voice telling me I’m not good enough. ”
Halsey’s face softens, her expression filled with understanding. “I know how hard it is. You’ve been carrying that pressure for a long time, San. But it’s okay to let some of it go.”
“I’m trying,” I admit, my voice dropping slightly. “It’s just . . . the anxiety. It’s always there. Every time I’m not on the ice, it feels like I’m wasting time, like I’m failing somehow. Even though logically, I know I need this recovery time, it’s like . . . I can’t shut it off.”
Her hand is still on mine, and she squeezes it a little tighter. “You’re not failing. You’re doing everything right. The anxiety is real, but it doesn’t get to define you. You’re more than that.”
For a moment, we just sit there, the soft murmur of the restaurant filling the space around us, but it feels quiet, like the world has paused just for us. And in that moment, I realize how much I need her—how much I’ve always needed her.