Chapter 37
Brant
I barely slept last night.
Every time I closed my eyes, my sister’s voice played in my head.
You’re in love with her.
She’s right.
I’ve spent weeks telling myself I was respecting Regan’s choice. Giving her space to chase her dreams. But it’s fucking bullshit. I was being a coward.
Because I didn’t fight for her when it mattered. I let her walk away and told myself it was the right thing to do. But love means showing up, and I didn’t do that. But I’m doing it right now.
But before I head for New York, there’s one stop I have to make.
Even if it costs me my job and unravels everything I’ve worked so hard for.
She’s worth it.
Pulling into Thomas’s driveway, I turn off the engine and just sit there for a second, gripping the steering wheel. His car’s in the driveway. Good. He’s home. No backing out now.
Grabbing my phone, I check the time, knowing I should already be on the road. Weeks have slipped by while I did nothing. Fuck, said nothing. I can’t waste another second.
Climbing out of the car, my heart’s racing with every step toward the front door. I press the doorbell with a shaky finger, then step back, arms folding across my chest as I stare at the welcome mat like it’s got answers.
Come on. Please open the door.
The lock clicks, and the door swings open. Dr. Thomas stands in the doorway, his eyebrows drawing together the second he sees me.
“Brant. Is everything alright? I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
His eyes skim over me. I’m not dressed for work, not dressed for anything, really. I’ve never just shown up at his place before. Never had a reason until today.
“I need to talk to you.”
He hesitates, then steps back. “Sure. Come on in.”
His expression softens just a little as he waves me through, but I can feel the questions hanging in the air between us. He closes the door and follows me. The living room smells faintly like coffee and something fresh out of the dryer.
“Have a seat,” he says. “You want a drink or something?”
“I’m good.” I sit on the edge of the couch, hands knotted together between my knees. My back’s stiff, legs twitching with nerves I can't settle.
He lowers himself into the sofa opposite, running a hand through his hair as he watches me. “So, what’s going on?”
I suck in a breath.
It’s now or never.
“I want to go talk to Regan.”
His posture shifts; it’s subtle but noticeable. His eyes narrow, not in an angry way, but not exactly surprised either.
“What for?”
I swallow, then clear my throat, trying to find words that won’t sound as messy as my thoughts.
“Because…” I let the silence hang a beat too long. “Because I’m in love with her.”
There… It's out.
I brace myself for anger. For him standing up and telling me to get out. To threaten my job, my position…
Dr. Thomas just sits there without a noise. His expression black, his gaze firmly on mine, but I can’t get a read on him, so it makes me ramble.
“I know this complicates things.” I continue.
“And I didn’t mean for it to happen, honestly.
She was… God, she was infuriating. Stubborn.
Always in my space. Always calling me out.
Heck, stealing my creamer.” My hands open, palms facing up like I’m offering him the mess I’ve made.
“But she’s also brilliant. And brave. And she gets under my skin in this way that I can’t shake.
I don’t know if she’ll even talk to me. But I need to try.
I can’t go on any longer without trying.
” I look up at him, hoping for some kind of sign.
That I haven’t completely torched every bridge I have left.
He leans back slowly, one arm draped over the sofa. Looking at me for a long moment, he lets out a sigh that sounds like it’s been building for days.
“If you hurt her, we’re going to have a problem. Chief or not,” he says. “But if you love her the way you say you do, then go get her.”
Relief crashes into me so fast I have to take a breath and glance down at my hands, flexing them open and shut, trying to hold myself steady.
As I think about how I miss talking to her every day.
How fucking lonely I am. I’m surrounded by people with kids and spouses and dinner plans and goddamn family calendars.
And I go home to ready-made meals and silence.
I need to tell him the truth, because not only is it fucking ugly, but it’s real.
I want what my sister has. I want a life. I want love. I want kids. I want someone to laugh with at night, to fight with about dishes, and then make up with over takeout. I want that.
“I never planned for this, I swear. I didn’t go looking to fall for her. But I did.” I exhale.
He’s not yelling. That alone feels like a win.
“I don’t know how the conversation with her is going to go,” I admit. “But I needed to talk to you first. You deserve that. And I’m sorry. I broke your trust, and I’m pursuing something you didn’t want me to. I know that.”
He lets out a breath through his nose and nods slowly.
“I appreciate your honesty,” he says. “And I’ll be honest with you, I’ve been watching you two, and I knew there was something there.”
A small grin tugs at his mouth, but it fades quickly.
“But I’m grateful that you came to me now. You didn’t have to. She’s a grown woman who can make her own decisions. She always has.”
He pauses, gaze flicking toward the window, like he's seeing someone who's not there.
“If you go to New York and she doesn’t come back… like her mother… you can’t hold that against her. Can’t be bitter.” He brings his gaze back to mine, and regret is evident there.
“I know,” I say softly. I’ve thought about it. Late at night when I can’t sleep, I think about every possible scenario. The thought of her not wanting me terrifies me, but I’d rather know than spend the rest of my life wondering.
“I’m honored you came to me first,” he adds. “And it’s not something I’d fire you over. You’ve earned your position, Brant.”
That catches me. I sit back, stunned.
He tilts his head. “The real question is… are you prepared to prioritize her dreams? To support what she wants, even if it’s not what you want?
New York is her dream. It’s what she’s worked toward her entire life.
So I need to know if that’s where she needs to be, are you willing to put her first?
Even if it means giving up everything you’ve built here? ”
I think about that… really think. About the chief position, the hospital, and the life I have here in Pulse Point. And then I think about her and the fire in her eyes when she fights for a patient.
“If New York is where she needs to be, then yeah. I’d follow her there. I’d support her. Whatever she needs.”
He leans in. “Even if it means starting over? Leaving chief behind. Building a new career in a city where you don’t have the same reputation?”
“Yes. Because what’s the point of chief if I’m doing it without her?” A small grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. “It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”
“It’s not stupid.” A faint smile crosses his face. “It’s love.”
I don’t know what I’m doing or what comes next until I speak to her. She might not want me. Might have moved on. Hell, she might be thriving in New York, and I’ll just be someone from the past she never wants to see again. But I can’t live without knowing. I have to try.
I rub my palms on my jeans, trying to slow my heartbeat. “And if she ever wanted to come back here… if she liked working at Pulse Point Medical Center, I’d hope you’d offer her job back.”
He nods without hesitation. “Of course. I’d have her back in a heartbeat.”
A small pressure lifts off my shoulders at that.
“It was good having her here. Honestly, we grew closer. She helped me see how shut off I’ve been from the world, from people, because I was holding on to too much pain for too long.” His eyes take on this soft, proud sheen. “She helped me let some of it go.”
I listen, my throat tight.
“I’m proud of her. Everything she’s done, everything she is. And hearing how you talk about her, well, that’s how I see her too. It’s rare, what you’re feeling. And I do trust you. I really do. But she’s still my little girl and—”
But then his tone shifts slightly. A warning, grounded in affection.
“I just want to be honest; you might not get the outcome you’re hoping for. You go all the way there, and she might not feel the same. Are you prepared for that?”
I nod, slowly. Though deep down, I know it will destroy me, but at least I’ll know. “Thank you. For being straight with me. And yeah, I know the risk. But I really think she’s worth it.”
He stands. “All right then, good luck.”
I hesitate, then grin sheepishly. “I need one more favor.”
“You’re pushing it,” he teases.
“Do you have her address?”
He heads toward the kitchen. “Let me get a piece of paper.”
“Oh, I can just type it into my phone.” I hold it up.
“Right, GPS.” He rattles it off, and I punch it into my maps app. My fingers hover for a second as the route appears. Three hours.
I pause at the front step, turning back. “Please don’t tell her I’m coming. I want to be the one to tell her.”
He gives me a look that says he understands. “You’ll keep me updated?”
“Absolutely. When I get back.”
“Well,” he says with a smirk, “I expect to see you back at work Monday morning.”
I grin. “Definitely.”
He walks me out and lifts a hand in farewell as I climb into the car. The window’s down, the sky wide open above me. And with every mile I drive, a mix of anticipation and hope starts to stir inside me.
By the time I hit the edge of New York, my heart’s thumping through my chest.
Three hours later, I pull up in front of her place. My stomach knots as I take the steps two at a time and find the buzzer panel.
I press the button for her floor. Static hums, then a voice: “Hello?”
It’s her.
I swallow, then lean in. “Hi. It’s Brant.”
The buzzer buzzes, and the door clicks open, but she didn’t say anything else. My heart slams against my ribs as worry washes over me. Have I made a mistake?