Chapter 3
Adrian
I step into the house after an eight-mile run, sweat clinging to my skin, still catching my breath from the last push.
The cool morning air feels different in Pulse Point…
crisper, like it cleans my lungs with every inhale.
Being here for a week, this has become my new routine, and honestly, it’s more peaceful than I expected.
With so little traffic, I can let my mind wander and work out any problems. Sure, the past lingers like a shadow, but I focus on what’s right in front of me.
Every day, I pick a new direction to run in.
The best part? No crowds. No accidental shoulder bumps.
Just me and my footsteps on the sidewalks.
I quietly close the door behind me, trying to stay quiet, but the rich scent of fresh coffee leads me straight to Keith. He’s at the kitchen counter, pouring steaming coffee into a mug.
“Morning,” I say, hands on my hips, lungs burning from the sprint finish.
Keith glances over with a smile. His plaid shirt is wrinkled, flat hair on one side like he rolled out of bed ten minutes ago. He holds up a mug in a silent offer.
I wipe the sweat from my brow. “I’d love some, but I’m gonna shower first.”
“Go right ahead. I’ll wait a few minutes, then brew a fresh cup just for you. Want me to make some eggs too?”
I shake my head, appreciating the offer, but feeling a pang of guilt. “Nah, don’t worry about it, Keith. You’re already doing more than enough for me.”
Inside the bathroom, I peel off my damp clothes and step into the hot shower, letting the water wash away the tension in my muscles.
Afterward, I towel off and pull on a pair of new blue jeans and a brown t-shirt, both a little softer and better fitting than the daily suit I’m used to.
I run a hand through my still-damp hair and glance at my reflection.
I look presentable. Almost like I belong.
It’s been a week, and tomorrow, I start as a doctor at the hospital until Keith’s practice is ready for me. This week has been about settling in, getting my bearings. But today, I’ve got one thing on my list: a haircut at the barber Keith pointed out the other day.
A few minutes later, I’m back in the kitchen, where my coffee waits for me on the counter. “Thanks.” I take a long, satisfying sip. The bitterness is exactly what I need after another restless night.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks, clutching his own cup.
“All right,” I lie, not ready to unpack the mess in my head. Thoughts of dismissal, feeling like I wasn’t enough, echoes of my dad’s words to “toughen up,” still lurk in the background. But I’m here to start over, to move past all that. Sleep will come eventually. I just need time.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” I ask, wanting to change topics.
“I thought we could stop by the practice after we head into town. Just check in. Then, later, there’s the welcome party.”
My stomach tightens at the reminder. A flicker of something like dread washes over me.
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly too aware of the way the collar of my t-shirt sits against my skin.
Parties aren’t really my thing, not now, when everything already feels rocky.
But maybe it’ll work in my favor, especially with Keith there. “What time?” I ask.
“Five. We’ll head back here around four to get ready. I’ll drive since I’m bringing food and drinks.”
“What are you bringing?”
“Mac and cheese. Everyone brings a dish. I’m not spoiling the surprise, though. You’ll see why this place is special soon enough.”
I nod, draining the last of my coffee.
At the very least, I can show up looking like I’ve got it together… even if I don’t feel like it yet.
I push open the door to the barbershop, the bell chiming softly overhead.
The place looks just like the ones back in the city with brick walls, chairs in a line, big windows letting in streams of natural light, and that familiar mix of wax, hairspray, and aftershave lingering in the air.
Nothing fancy, but it has a charm, the kind that feels lived in.
A bearded guy in his mid-thirties, with a solid build like he spends serious time at the gym, greets me with a friendly smile. Tattoos snake up both arms, and his confident stance says he owns the place, or at least runs the show.
“Hey.” He pauses mid-trim, clippers still in hand, and glances up to greet me.
“Hi. Do you have time for a haircut?” I ask, wiping sweat from my temple.
His eyes scan me briefly, not in a judgmental way, just a quick once-over. Normally, I don’t overthink stuff, but here, in this unfamiliar place, even the smallest thing makes me feel like I stick out.
“Yeah. Take a seat here.” He points to one of the black chairs. “I’ll be a couple of minutes, then I’ll be right with you.”
I slide into the seat, noticing he’s the only barber working. But it’s nine a.m., so maybe it’s just early.
There’s a small TV in the corner, playing the morning news on low volume. I watch it for a few seconds, then glance at the barber, who finishes up with an older gentleman, their conversation drifting from sports to grandkids.
After a few friendly pats on the back and a chuckle, the man pulls out his wallet, hands over a bill, and waves off the change with a grin. There’s something easy and familiar in the way the barber interacts with him, like he knows how to make people feel comfortable without trying too hard.
When he’s done, the barber brushes off his hands and walks over to me.
“I’m Derek,” he says, offering a hand. “I own the place.”
“Adrian. I just moved here.” I shake his hand.
He doesn’t mention the article, doesn’t give any sign he recognizes me from the picture, and maybe he doesn’t. Or maybe he does and just wants to form his own impression. The thought makes my chest feel like it’s opening up, just a little.
“So, what brings you to town?” He drapes a cape around me and snaps it in place.
“I’m joining Keith Montgomery’s practice.”
He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of recognition. “Keith Montgomery, huh?” He pauses. “So you’re planning to stick around, then? Not just a couple of months kind of thing?”
“Yeah, I’m here for good. I’m staying with Keith while I look for something to purchase.”
I’m staying because, truthfully, I have no other choice. No hospital’s going to take me after the way things ended, and Keith gave me an opportunity when no one else would. I owe him.
“Smart move. All right, tell me what you want.”
I run my fingers through the hair on the sides of my head. “Short on the sides, like a one or two, faded up. Keep the top a bit longer, you know, just clean it up.”
“Got it.” Derek grabs the clippers and starts working. A steady buzz of the clippers fills the space, mixed with faint music playing from a radio in the corner.
“You from here?” I ask.
“Born and raised. My dad owned this shop before me.”
“Do you work alone?”
“Most mornings, yeah. I’ve got a guy who helps out in the afternoons. Regulars like their routines.”
We fall into easy conversation. He tells me about the local bar, The Pulse Point Tavern, good for watching sports, with an awesome outdoor area.
“What about gyms? Cafes?” I ask.
Derek lists off a gym just down the road, a bakery with the best pastries, a coffee shop that knows how to make a decent cold brew, and a smoothie spot I’d probably never find on my own. Some of it overlaps with what Keith has shown me, but he adds his own personal twist.
We talk about where to buy a house, which spots are quiet, and which ones have character. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything, which I appreciate.
When he finishes, he brushes off the stray hairs and adds a bit of gel.
“What do you think?”
I check it out, running my hand over the fresh fade. “Nailed it. Thanks.”
Derek unclips the cape, gives it a shake, and grins. “Nice meeting you, Adrian. See you next time.”
“Definitely. Thanks for the suggestions.”
I pull out my wallet to pay, and as I turn to leave, he calls out, “Hey, take my number. A couple of buddies and I head out to the bar on Fridays. I could introduce you around if you want to tag along.”
“Sounds good,” I say, surprised at how natural the offer feels. After the mess at the last hospital, I’m wary of making new friends, especially at work. But maybe having a circle outside of that would be better.
I step outside, and for the first time in a while, I feel lighter. Like maybe starting over isn’t just possible… it might actually be nice.
On my way back to Keith’s truck, where he’s waiting for me, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, glancing at the screen. Isaac. Relief hits me as I answer.
“Hey, man,” he says. “How’s it going out there in the sticks?”
“So far, so good. Still finding my feet,” I reply, relief settling into my chest at the familiar voice.
“You start work yet?”
Huffing out a breath, I kick a loose rock as I walk. “Nah, not yet. Checking out the practice later today. Haven’t been inside the hospital yet. I start tomorrow.”
“How you feeling about that?”
I reach the truck, leaning against the door as I rub the back of my neck. “Fucking scared, honestly. Like… the shit from the city will follow me.”
Isaac sighs. “Try not to think about that, man. It’s a fresh start.”
I roll the words around in my head, knowing he’s right.
“How is it back there?” If anyone knows, it’s him. He’s still in the thick of it at the hospital.
“They’ve moved on,” he says. “You know how it is—one drama, then on to the next.”
I scoff. “Yeah, well, I’m sure if I were still around, they’d be talking about it.”
“Probably.” He doesn’t lie, and I appreciate that. “But you’re not. And honestly? You’re gonna be better off where you are.”
A deep chuckle leaves my throat. “How the fuck would you know?”
“I don’t,” he admits. “I’m just trying to make you feel better. Is it working?”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “You know what? It kinda is.”
“Good. My job here is done. Call me later.”
“Alright, will do.”