Chapter 26
Zac
Watching Dain talk to Hannah like she’s a piece of gum stuck to his designer shoe grates on my nerves so hard I consciously grind my teeth.
I’m standing on the sidelines, arms crossed over my chest, watching her work the camera effortlessly.
Her smile is bright, lighting up the entire set like she’s got her own personal spotlight.
The crew and couples gravitate toward her; they laugh at her jokes, lean in when she speaks, practically trip over themselves to follow her directions.
The energy she creates is infectious. Being around her even shifted how I feel—not just inspiring respect, but causing my years-built defences to give way.
“Okay, Teresa, tilt your chin just a little toward Christus… perfect. Now, Christus, hand on her waist, and pull her in like you can’t bear to be apart. Yes. That’s it.”
How can she not see that she’s director material? That Dain should be worried about his job, not her?
It’s the last shot before we break for lunch, and I catch the wince that flashes across her delicate features when she shifts her weight on the scooter.
The way her lips purse, her knuckles whitening against the handlebar, that barely perceptible catch in her breath.
She needs medication. Which I have packed in my briefcase.
I pull out my phone and tap out a quick note:
12.51 PM- Patient showing signs of discomfort. Facial tension, altered gait, reduced mobility. Pain level estimated 6-7/10. Recommend analgesic and rest period.
I’ll transfer this to her official file later because I’m technically working, and Mr. Peltz expects meticulous documentation on all patients, but especially high-profile ones like Hannah.
My phone buzzes in my hand before I can pocket it, and my sister’s name lights up the screen.
Bri: New article about Dad. He made it in the Emergency Medicine Journal. (Link) Call him.
My thumb hovers over the link, temptation warring with responsibility. Pride swells in my chest. My father is an incredible emergency doctor, finally getting the recognition he deserves for his hard work. God knows I’m proud of him, proud to be his son.
But I pocket the phone without clicking it.
With my career teetering on the edge, I can’t afford to be caught with my eyes on anything other than Hannah.
Dain already watches me like he’s saving it.
And if he’s reporting back to Peltz, if he hears that I was on my phone while his patient was on set, that’s all it takes.
One wrong move, one perceived lack of dedication, and I’m done.
Dad would understand that better than anyone. I’ll read it tonight.
That’s one of the reasons I’m here in Pulse Point, thirty minutes away from my family. I needed to become a doctor on my own merit, not riding on my father’s name. Not being introduced as “Dwight Sterling’s son” before anyone learns my first name is Zac.
“Let’s cut for lunch and meet back in one hour,” Dain calls out across the set, already turning away dismissively before the words completely leave his mouth, his luxury sunglasses catching the light as he walks toward the craft services tent without a backward glance.
I walk straight to Hannah, who’s still on set, weaving between crew members coiling cables and moving equipment.
Fighting the overwhelming urge to scoop her up and carry her back to the trailer, I watch the strain etched across her delicate features.
The tightness around those expressive blue eyes, and the slight tremor in her hands gripping the scooter.
“I’ll get you something for the pain in the trailer,” I whisper.
I expect her to argue. She can be stubborn, but she surprises me.
“That actually sounds good, but I need to eat first.” She’s missing her usual spark; her facade is cracking.
I nod, understanding flooding through me. After what happened recently when she took prescription pain medication on an empty stomach and was violently ill, I know she’s hesitant about taking pills without food in her system first. I’m glad she’s following orders.
“We’ll get you fed first,” I assure her, and something in her shoulders relaxes.
She moves toward the trailer area so much slower than this morning, each push of her good foot deliberate. Her energy is completely gone.
Is it from the pain radiating up her leg? From Dain’s comments, the way he corrected her in front of everyone? I don’t know, but she stops and turns her blue eyes on me, and I see the utter exhaustion.
I scan the area quickly, doctor mode and the gentleman inside me warring with professional boundaries.
Only Karyn, Jaina, and Mia are following us, their makeup kits and styling bags in hand.
They’ve already seen me carry her this morning.
So, I don’t give it a second thought as I bend down and scoop her up into my arms.
Her whole body immediately slumps against me, all pretense of being fine evaporating. She even lays her head on my shoulder, her soft hair tickling my neck, her breath warm against my collarbone. A possessiveness clenches my chest. But I bury it before it can take over.
I can already see the makeup smudging where her face presses against my shirt. Jaina will definitely have to fix that before she heads back on set.
Carrying her inside the air-conditioned trailer, I head straight past the small kitchenette and seating area toward the bed in the back.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks in a relaxed tone.
“Somewhere you can elevate your leg.”
I lower her gently onto the bed, careful not to bump her ankle, mindful of every movement.
The mattress dips under her weight. Grabbing a spare pillow from the corner, I tuck it under her ankle.
The swelling is worse than it was this morning.
If she pushes through the afternoon on this without proper rest now, we’re looking at inflammation that could set her recovery back by days.
“You need to rest it if you plan on being out there this afternoon. We need to reduce some of the swelling.”
She sighs and eases into the pillows, her hair fanning out behind her. Her eyes are already starting to close.
“What time will filming wrap up today?” I’m trying to plan her post-shoot treatment.
“There’s only one more scene left after lunch. If I can nail that in one take, maybe one hour total.”
“And if it’s not one take?” I press, knowing her tendency to downplay things, to push through when she should stop. I’ve watched Dain redirect her three times this morning on things that looked fine to me, but I’m not a director.
“Could be two hours if we need multiple angles, or if Dain decides to override my choices again.” She shrugs one shoulder.
I nod, already planning to have her home, ankle iced and elevated, pain medication on a full stomach. I’m picturing it… picturing her, and I’m looking forward to it more than I should be.
“I’ll grab the medication and find some lunch…
” But the words die on my tongue when I turn around.
Karyn, Jaina, and Mia are crowding into the small space, arms filled with an impressive assortment of food and drinks.
Sandwiches and wraps in clear plastic containers, colorful salads with separate dressing cups, bottles of water and juice, even cookies and fruit salad.
“Looks like they’ve got the food covered.”
“Yeah… they always do...” Hannah trails off, her eyes already scanning the options they’re laying out on the small counter.
Knowing she’s being looked after, I head to the outside bathroom quickly to read my dad’s article.
Dr. Dwight Sterling: Redefining Emergency Medicine Protocol.
It’s good. Of course it is. My father doesn’t do anything bad.
I close the tab without finishing it.
I should call him. That’s what a normal son would do.
Except nothing with my father is simple or easy, and I’ve never quite worked out how to separate the work I respect from the man I have complicated feelings about. So I do what I always do. I pocket the phone and tell myself I’ll deal with it later.
My mom’s been texting. Not about the article specifically, but I know that’s what’s underneath it.
Have you talked to your father? Did you see the news?
She’s been doing this my whole life—holding the middle ground between us, nudging without pushing, hoping eventually we’ll figure it out on our own.
We haven’t yet.
I wash my hands and head back out.
Exiting, I nearly collide with Dain in the narrow bathroom doorway.
My muscles tense automatically. I want to tell him exactly how I feel about the way he treats Hannah.
I want to grab him by his pretentious clothes and spell out that she’s worth ten of him, that her instincts are better, her rapport with people is genuine, her work ethic unmatched.
But I bite my tongue. I can’t risk Hannah’s job.
She’s worked too hard to get here; I won’t be the reason she loses this opportunity.
And Mr. Peltz personally set up this deal with Dain, so if I blow it by fighting the director, what would that mean for my position?
For the senior role I’ve worked so hard at?
I don’t want to think about it.
So, I dip my head in curt acknowledgement and stride past him.
I head back to the trailer, grabbing the medication from my briefcase that should help the inflammation without risking drowsiness or nausea, and relief washes over me when I find her still lying in the position I left her, though someone has propped her up a little more with extra pillows, creating a proper backrest. There’s a tray of food balanced on her lap, and she’s taking small bites of what looks like a turkey sandwich.
“Have you eaten enough to take something?” I ask, moving closer to assess her.
She swallows her current bite before answering. “Yes. Half a sandwich and some fruit.”
I hand her the water bottle, and she immediately lifts her other hand out, palm up, waiting for the pills.
“How much pain are you in on a scale of one to ten? One being nothing, ten being the worst you’ve ever felt.”