Epilogue
Hannah
Pulse Point’s Sweetheart Couple Marks One Year
It’s been twelve months since Dr. Zachary Sterling and Hannah Morgan first made headlines here in Pulse Point, and this town has watched the whole thing unfold like our own personal love story.
From a broken ankle to a broken hospital scandal too, by all accounts, a relationship that’s gone the distance—literally. Sources say, the couple splits time between LA and right here in town, with regular sightings of Dr. Sterling at Genevieve’s diner whenever he’s home.
Now, we’ve done some thinking. Those photos that triggered the suspension—him helping her up her front steps, looking at her the way he was looking at her—that wasn’t a doctor and his patient. We know the difference. The town always has.
The question we keep coming back to is: how long before they knew?
We have our theories. We’re keeping them to ourselves this time.
We don’t know what’s next for them. But we know Pulse Point will always claim a little credit.
Dr. Whisperer
“All right, you two,” Mom says at the airport terminal, pulling me into a tight hug that smells like her floral signature perfume.
Her eyes are misty, but she’s smiling. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate.
We’ll be there in a heartbeat.” She releases me and turns to Zac, squeezing his arm with both hands.
“Otherwise, we’ll see you when you return. ”
I smile, letting her assume our timeline.
I haven’t asked Zac yet, but I’m secretly planning to host Thanksgiving, combining both our families.
I think he’d love it. Especially since his mom added me to the family group chat.
The memes Bri sends tend to be about how whipped her brother’s become, and Zac’s still not checking the chat much, so he isn’t annoyed by it.
Even his dad calls him more, just to check in.
Their relationship isn’t perfect, but it’s better than it was.
We head down to the jet bridge toward the plane, a single suitcase each in hand.
I’m back in my element today—black Louboutins and a tailored outfit—fresh off three weeks of pre-production meetings for my first feature directing credit.
Zac smiles as he watches me navigate the airport ramp like I own it, because for the first time in my career, I actually feel like I do.
It’s a funny contrast: me in designer labels, him usually in scrubs, glasses, and surgical tools.
We’ve spent the last year seamlessly trading worlds for each other, and it’s been so nice.
Brooke tags along right beside us, her hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweater. She and Emmett have become close over the last year. They text constantly, and since Brooke and I share everything, I get to see her giddiness every time his name pops up on her screen.
Before long, our flight lands, and we’re back at Murmur Bay’s airport. Channing is already waiting beside the car. I practically sprint in my heels and throw my arms around him. He’s like a second father to me now.
“Look at you.” Channing pulls back, his face breaking into a proud grin. “Running in heels. I’m impressed. Last time I picked you up from this airport, you were in flat shoes and taking it one step at a time.”
I roll my ankle playfully, extending my leg to show off my perfect recovery. “Good as new. Between the extended physical therapy and this man beside me, I’m very lucky.”
I lean into Zac’s side, feeling the solid warmth of him through his t-shirt. His arm comes around my waist, his thumb rubbing small circles against my hip. It’s an unconscious gesture now, something he does whenever I’m near.
I did extensive physical therapy, probably more than I needed, but Zac insisted. With all the heels I wear for work, he wasn’t taking any chances.
It’s been a chaotic year, but a good one. Yolanda hasn’t surfaced once since the restraining order, not so much as a stray comment to a tabloid. Whatever fight she has in her, she apparently used it all trying to take Zac down with her. And lost.
I hosted two more seasons before I finally quit.
Working with Dain became unbearable, his ego inflating with every episode until I couldn’t stand to be in the same room.
So I walked. Took the credit the show gave me and used it exactly the way I’d hoped—pitched a directing reel, got laughed out of two rooms, and then didn’t.
My first short premiered at a festival in the spring.
My first feature starts shooting next month.
Nobody calls me the girl from the competition show anymore.
Now I’m just the director, which still feels hard to say out loud without pinching myself.
Jaina ended up taking a full-time job with Nikkita in LA after her trial, so all three of us grab lunch once a month. It’s funny how some people just end up woven into your life permanently, long after the reason you met them is over.
Zac took the offer at a private orthopedic practice in LA after six months, not under anyone’s thumb, not because Peltz forced his hand or his father asked twice.
He chose it because it let him keep operating without the politics, and because it put him close enough to me that neither of us had to keep doing the math on flights and time zones.
He kept the title this time. Senior Surgeon, on his own terms; nobody able to dangle it over him again.
Because his reputation as the “orthopedic surgeon to the stars” gives him flexibility, and my work is project-based now, we don’t have to stay pinned anywhere permanently. We can travel and split our time exactly how we want.
“Brooke confirmed she’s staying with the guys tonight,” I murmur to Zac as Channing loads our bags. Originally, she was going to stay with us at Zac’s, but Emmett convinced her otherwise.
I know Zac has missed having time at the cabin. He’s been upgrading it, and this is the first time I’m seeing it finished.
When Channing pulls up the gravel driveway, my breath catches in my throat.
The cabin is stunning. All rich wood and wide windows, with a stone chimney rising from one end and a covered porch wrapping around the front, overlooking the glass-like water of the lake.
Brooke heads inside and looks around.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, my hand flying to my chest. “Zac, it’s perfect.”
“You like it?”
“Like it? I love it.” I lift onto my toes, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. He laughs against my mouth as he pulls back.
Inside, the open-concept space is beautifully framed by floor-to-ceiling windows facing the bay.
“You know,” Zac whispers, stepping in behind me, pressing his chest to my back, wrapping his arms securely around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. His breath is warm against my skin. “When I invited you to this cabin, you were the first woman I’d ever told the address to.”
I turn in his embrace, my heart swelling. “Really? I had no idea.”
“I never had a single hesitation with you.” His fingers thread through mine, his expression completely open, raw and vulnerable. His blue eyes search my face. “This place was my private escape. But the second I met you, I wanted to share it.”
A warm rush of emotion makes my eyes sting with happy tears. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too.” He kisses my forehead, then my nose, before pressing a deep kiss to my lips.
We drop our bags in the bedroom. I swap my Louboutins and travel clothes for denim cutoffs, a loose top, and white sneakers. Zac changes too, trading his jeans for khaki shorts and a faded t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. He catches me unashamedly staring and smirks.
“See something you like?
“Later.” I grab his hand, pulling him to the porch.
We step outside together, and the view stops me all over again.
“I’ve been thinking,” he breathes against my hair.
“That’s always dangerous.”
“Hannah.” He pulls me to turn in his arms until I face him.
He reaches into his pocket, and my hand flies to my mouth before he’s even pulled it out.
“I thought my life filled with work was enough, that I didn’t need anything else.” He opens the box, and a simple yet large diamond set on a gold band sparkles at me. “And then you broke your ankle and changed my fucking life.”
Happy tears spill down my cheeks the moment he bends down on one knee.
“I want a future with you. Marry me, Hannah.”
I stare at this grumpy, careful, devoted man who baked me cookies, waited outside my PT appointments, fell asleep on my sofa, and chose me, every time, without making a production of it.
“Yes,” I sniff. “Of course, yes.”
He slides the ring onto my finger and then stands to kiss me.
“Did you tell anyone?” I ask against his lips.
“Brooke may have been consulted,” he admits.
I edge back. “Brooke knew?”
“She was very helpful with the ring choice.”
“I bet she was,” I say, already turning toward her, dragging him behind me.
I find Brooke, and she’s looking so smug.
“You did it?” Her eyes shift to Zac behind me.
“He did.” I don’t stop walking until I’m right in front of her. Letting go of Zac’s hand, I show her the ring.
She squeals, and then we hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you,” I say as tears stream again.
He digs through a box in the kitchen for the fishing gear, and I find myself drawn to the counter instead—flour, sugars, butter, the chocolate chips he apparently still keeps stocked for exactly this kind of weekend.
“You’re seriously baking right now,” he says, glancing over.
“I told you a year ago, I’d bring you a batch and let you critique them.” I tie my hair back. “I never actually delivered.”
Resting against the counter, he watches me measure things out, make them into balls, and slide the tray into the oven, setting the timer on my phone. “Go. I’ll bring them down when they’re ready.”
He kisses my temple on his way out, heading down toward the water, where Jameson is already cracking open a beer with Emmett hovering over the hot grill.
The second Brooke hops down to hug Emmett hello, I watch him carefully.
His arms wrap tightly around her, his hand dropping low on her back, holding her for a second too long.
When they pull apart, his thumb brushes her waist. Brooke’s cheeks are flaming pink, and she bites her lip, her eyes bright.
A massive smile tugs at my mouth. They’re perfectly matched.
Emmett can talk banking and market trends, and Brooke can counter with micro-accounting data—stuff that goes entirely over my head.
The two of them are protective and supportive of each other in exactly the way I hoped someone would be for her.
The timer goes off. I pull out the tray, noting how they’re golden and slightly crispy at the edges, still soft in the middle. I carry the plate I put them on down to the pier where Zac’s waiting.
“Critique time,” I say, handing him one.
He takes a bite, chewing slowly, eyes never leaving mine.
“Needs work,” he says, completely straight-faced.
My eyes narrow playfully. “Liar.”
He pulls me into his side, pressing a chocolate-flavored kiss to my lips, and we hang with our favorite people, in each other’s arms, exactly where we both finally chose to be.
The End.