Chapter 30
Hannah
I wake up still thinking about last night.
His house. The clean lines and dark furniture, the big windows, the kitchen that actually looks used.
The worn non-fiction paperback on the coffee table.
A few framed photos on the shelf above the fireplace, one of a group on a fishing trip, another of his family.
The walls are a cool white, the furniture dark and solid.
No throw pillows, no decorative bowls of things that serve no purpose. Everything exactly where it should be.
It was so him.
And then what happened after… surprising and sexy. Which is why I’m lying here in the dark at whatever time it is, staring at the ceiling with a stupid smile on my face.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand. The screen blazes bright in my dark room. A text from Brooke is waiting. I squint at it, still groggy.
Brooke: What the hell is this?
I click the link she’s attached. There’s a picture of Zac carrying me out of the trailer. The headline:
What’s Going on Between Dr. Sterling and Hannah Morgan?
My stomach drops. The article speculates that Zac might be doing “more than necessary” while painting me as some entitled princess expecting him to perform duties “beyond what’s expected of him as a doctor.
” At least they’re not claiming we’re together, but the implication that I’m demanding and high maintenance makes my blood boil.
It’s frustrating, but there’s nothing I can do.
They’ll believe whatever narrative sells.
I quickly text back, knowing it’s 4:30 in the morning, so she won’t respond right away.
Me: Remember, don’t believe everything you read in the news. But he’s been super lovely. Too kind. He definitely doesn’t make things easy, but I might have some gossip for you when you wake up.
Gossip is a lie for what I actually want to say, which is I have feelings for him, the ones that keep me up at night and make me reply that night at his house, the way he looked at me, the way neither of us looked away.
Over and over until I lose track of how many times I’ve been through it.
But I can’t put that in a text. I need to actually say it out loud to someone before I lose my mind, and Brooke is the only one I trust with this.
I set my phone down. I’ll call her later. Channing will be here if he’s not already. I gave him a key because, honestly, hauling all my stuff to the car every morning was getting ridiculous, and we have a good relationship, so why the hell not?
But as I swing my legs out of bed, I hear voices coming from the living room. My heart races. That’s definitely Channing’s low rumble, but the other voice… is that Zac? Why would he be here and not at the set? And why so early?
I scramble up, tangling myself in the sheets, nearly face-planting onto the floor. I catch myself on the nightstand, heart hammering now for an entirely different reason. Once I’m calm, I walk out of my room on crutches, rubbing my eyes and trying to orient myself in my sleepy state.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Both men turn to look at me. My eyes drift down over Zac, taking in his rumpled shirt, the shadow of stubble on his jaw, his messed-up hair.
“Did you… stay the night?” I ask, suddenly very aware I’m standing here in my nightgown.
He runs his hand over his face, dragging it down over his mouth. The just-woken-up look is kind of hot on him.
“Yeah, I-It seems I crashed on your sofa last night.”
I sigh, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I hope it wasn’t uncomfortable.”
“It surprisingly wasn’t, actually.” His lips quirk into a small smile that does things to my insides.
“Well, you don’t have to come this early to set, you know. Maybe get some sleep at home?”
“Yeah, I think I’ll, um, have a shower at home.” He shifts his weight, looking almost boyish in his uncertainty. “Meet you on set? Seven?”
“Sure.”
But neither of us moves. His gaze holds mine, sparks flying between us. Then he clears his throat, gives Channing a small nod, and strides to the door.
I watch him go.
The door clicks shut behind him, and I stay where I am, in my nightgown in the middle of my living room, crutches under my arms, thinking about the fact he stayed.
That he fell asleep on my sofa instead of going home, and I’m not sure if that was about me or just exhaustion, and I want very badly for it to be about me.
I snap out of my daydream and glance at Channing. “Well, I guess I’ll go get ready.” He’s standing there with his professional mask firmly in place. “I won’t be long.”
“It’s all right, miss. Take your time.”
Getting ready doesn’t take long. Channing helps me into the car and into my trailer where Karyn, Jaina, and Mia are already waiting. They’re huddled together, whispering, but they go silent the instant I walk in.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing,” they say, but their guilty expressions tell a different story. They pull away from something on the makeup counter, and I spot the article on Karyn’s phone.
“I’ve already seen it. It’s okay.”
Mia crosses her arms, her expression fierce. “It’s not okay. They’re making up stories. You’re nothing like they’ve described.”
“I’m used to it. Honestly.” I shrug, trying to project a nonchalance I don’t entirely feel. But I’m warmed by her defensiveness on my behalf. “I’m just glad they haven’t made Zac into being the bad guy, you know? He’s been nothing but kind, and I would hate for him to be dragged through the mud.”
“Yeah, he’s had enough of that,” Jaina mutters.
My head snaps up. “What do you mean?”
“He hasn’t told you?” Karyn asks.
“Told me what?” I look between the three of them, their faces painted with concern.
“You know… the scandal?” Jaina says.
“I know a bit about the disciplinary stuff with Peltz.”
They exchange a look that tells me there’s more.
“There’s also an ex involved,” Karyn says carefully. “It’s… complicated.”
An ex. I think about the woman on the street yesterday, the way Zac’s whole body went stiff the second he saw her. The way he couldn’t get us away fast enough.
“Funny enough, I met her yesterday.”
They stare at me.
“She asked for a photo yesterday. Acted like she was just a normal fan.” I can still picture her—all glossy dark hair and perfectly applied makeup, dressed in jeans and a cute sweater. “She was really sweet and nice. Nothing felt off…”
They shake their heads in unison, like they’re not at all surprised.
“Yeah, that girl’s deluded,” Mia says.
“I feel sorry for Zac. She’s clearly out to get him. What’s her endgame?”
“Honestly, we don’t know,” Karyn says. “It’s weird, but she seemed nice enough.”
They all laugh.
“No, she’s playing you,” Janina says gently. “You’re just too nice. You can only see the best in people, and she would spot that a mile away. Please keep your guard up.”
“I promise I will.” I smile at them, even if I don’t quite understand their concerns.
These women have done nothing but take care of me since day one. I’ll trust their judgement.
“Zac was really good about it all, actually. Like, considering it’s his ex and everything.” The way he kept his voice level, took the photo, and then steered us away without making a scene.
“Yeah, he’s so mature,” Karyn says. “Always been too good for her.”
There’s a twinkle in Jaina’s eyes as her gaze drifts to me, meaningful and teasing. I shake my head quickly. No. Because I can’t admit these feelings when I know it could risk his job. I have feelings for him. God, do I have feelings, but I can’t risk his career. So, I’d rather keep quiet.
Mia and Jaina get to work on my hair and face while Karyn sets down my usual bagel and tea. The familiar routine is soothing, grounding me for the day ahead.
A knock sounds at the door, and my stomach tightens, thinking it’s Dain, but he never knocks this softly. And a knock at this hour could mean anything, but then it opens, and it’s Zac, who’s freshly showered and changed, carrying two cups. One is from The Pulse Kettle.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the grin threatening to split my face wide open. They’re all watching… I can feel their eyes tracking everything.
I already drank the tea Karyn made me when I first arrived, but that was a while ago now. I could’ve asked Karyn to grab me another, but I haven’t.
“Good morning,” Zac says, extending the cup toward me. His fingers brush mine as I take it, the contact sending a little spark up my arm.
“You got me green tea with honey?”
He nods shyly. “I did.”
“Thank you.” I take a sip. The warm, slightly sweet liquid hits my tongue. Yeah, this one hits so much better than the cafeteria stuff. I don’t know if it’s because they’re fresh tea bags or just because he bought it, but it really is that good.
I meet his eyes over the rim of the cup. He’s watching me with that carefully composed expression he wears when he’s trying not to show his feelings, and I think about last night.
“So good,” I say softly, feeling hot all over at the way he’s eyes flare.
We both know I’m not just talking about the drink.
Once I’m camera-ready, I stand to head to set.
“Hey, be careful,” Zac says, falling into step beside me. “There was an article—”
“I saw it.” I watch him, expecting his walls to go up, for him to create some distance between us.
He looks up, and it isn’t that. His expression is almost unbothered. “I don’t really care what they say. We know you’re not a princess.” He glances back at the trailer. “Right, everyone?”
“Damn right,” they call back in unison.
I smile at the solidarity. “How do you feel about it?”
“They can say whatever they want,” Zac says with a shrug, holding the door open for me. “Must be boring at the news desk if all they want to comment on is us.”
His casual use of “us” makes butterflies swarm my belly, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I let him sweep me up, ready to face whatever Dain throws at me.
The filming breaks for lunch, and I make my way back to the trailer, grateful for the hour. My ankle is aching more than I want to admit, and my head isn’t far behind it.
I sink into the chair at the small table, accepting the sandwich Karyn puts in front of me, and pick up my phone.
Brooke’s text is still waiting.
Brooke: Can you text the gossip to me?
I look up at them, my fingers hovering over the screen. I have half an hour before I need to get back in the makeup chair. “I’m going to lie down.”
“We’ll give you some time alone.” Karyn exchanges a glance with the others, her expression softening with concern.
I’m happy they took the bait.
I push myself up from the small table and grab my crutches, tucking them under my arms as I make my way toward the bedroom.
“Did you want us to let Dr. Sterling know?” Karyn asks, pausing near the doorway.
Hearing his name does something that I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t.
“Please.”
I sink down on the bed and kick off my shoe. Propping myself up against the pillows, I tuck one carefully under my ankle, elevating it.
“Call me if you need anything,” Karyn says.
“Will do,” I call back, forcing myself to sound casual.
The moment the door closes, I find Brooke’s number and press call.
“Hey. I thought you couldn’t talk.”
“I said I was having a nap, so they all left.” I swallow down the guilt for lying to them.
“Smart. Well, tell me what’s going on.”
I exhale heavily, sinking deeper into the pillows. “So, I’m starting to have feelings for him.”
“Him being Sexy Sterling?”
“Yeah, him.”
“So, what’s the problem with that?”
My chest tightens. “I can’t. He’s still my doctor for the next few weeks. And when the show wraps, I go back to LA.”
“Yeah, that’s a problem. What’s he say about it?”
“We’ve talked about it. He’s been clear. He won’t cross that line while I’m his patient. His job is already hanging by a thread, Brooke.” I run my hand through my hair, smoothing it. “And then last night happened, and now I’m lying here, and I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“What happened last night?”
“We went to his place after dinner. And things—” I stop myself, choosing words carefully, even for Brooke. “Things progressed. Not completely, but enough.”
“Hannah!” she squeals.
“I know.”
“Does he know how you feel?”
“He knows I want him. I’ve told him that much.” I stare at the ceiling. “But feelings are different.”
“Then tell him.”
“And then what? I leave in a few weeks, regardless. Nothing about the situation changes. It’s probably better for both of us if I just let it run its course and go home.”
“Would probably be better for him, but I don’t think that’s what you actually want.”
I don’t answer, because she’s right, and we both know it.
“Just talk to him properly. When the time feels right.”
“Yeah.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I will.”
“Good. Now go rest before you need to go back on set.”
“Going. Talk soon.”
I hang up, letting the phone fall onto my chest. A few weeks. That’s all I have. The question is whether I’m brave enough to do something with them.