Chapter 3 #2
I hang up as I grip the truck handle for a second before climbing in. The interior smells faintly of leather and pine, the dashboard dusty but well-kept. The door creaks slightly as it shuts.
Maybe Isaac’s right. I need to start believing this is my fresh start and not be hung up on the past.
But fresh starts don’t change what’s happened. And some shit has a way of catching up with you.
I glance around, noticing the number of trucks in the parking lot and along the streets as we pull away. Back in New York, it’s all busy, fast, and loud with sedans and honking taxis. Here, it’s quieter and slower. A different kind of energy altogether.
“Seems like everyone drives a truck around here,” I say, buckling my seatbelt.
Keith chuckles, shifting gears smoothly.
“Yeah, it’s just more practical. Hauling wood for the fireplace, dealing with rougher roads…
It fits the lifestyle. Back in the city, your car made sense, but out here, it’s a different story.
Plus, when you get your own place, having a truck might come in handy. No rush, though.”
Keith owns a few vehicles: his sturdy truck, Sage’s sleek sedan, and an old convertible with a soft top that looks like it’s seen a few summers but still holds its charm. I’d rather have one car, so I’m willing to give up the Mercedes.
“All right, let’s go.” His voice carries a note of excitement that’s contagious. “Did your dad ever tell you how I came about getting the practice?”
I shake my head as part of me stiffens. Talking about my dad still feels hard. But I’m curious about the stories Keith might have. “No.”
He flicks his gaze to me for a moment before turning his focus back to the road.
His hands grip the steering wheel. “I met Sage here, and she couldn’t move to the city, so I was moping around, trying to figure out what to do with myself.
The practice was up for sale because the doctor was retiring.
Your dad gave me the money to buy it. I paid him back as soon as I could, but I wouldn’t be where I am without him. I miss him.”
Tightness fills my chest, and I stare out the window, watching the scenery blur by. I try to swallow down the lump in my throat, but it’s heavy. “So do I.”
The drive takes a few minutes, but it feels longer, the scenery shifting from residential streets to a more open stretch lined with trees.
Keith pulls into a gravel lot beside a building partially covered in scaffolding. Construction materials are neatly stacked nearby. It’s unfinished but full of potential… like everything about this new start.
I realize I don’t know much about the doctor side of Keith. As we step out of the truck, I ask a question that’s been on my mind. “So, did you always want to be a doctor?”
Keith locks the truck with a quick beep. “My dad and grandfather were doctors. Being a doctor is kind of in the family.”
We walk up a brick pathway to a building that feels more like a large house than a practice, with its pitched roof and wide front porch.
Keith unlocks the door, and we step inside.
The polished wooden floors shine under the bright light filtering through large windows.
Light-colored timber blends with cream walls, accented by indoor plants and wrought-iron chandeliers.
The scent of something citrus lingers in the air.
The reception area is spacious, dominated by a white, high-front desk with wooden countertops. Two monitors sit behind it, and everything looks fresh and modern.
“This is incredible,” I mutter, still taking it all in.
“We started with renovating the front,” Keith explains. “Expanded the reception, added new furniture. The goal is to create more space for more doctors, chiropractic care, holistic treatments, naturopathy. This town needs it, and we’re making it happen.”
He gives me a quick tour of the reception area, a couple of treatment rooms with sleek equipment, and a cozy break room with a small kitchenette. “Right now, it’s just me and a few allied health professionals who hire space. But once the extension’s done, we’ll have room for more.”
The space feels different from what I’m used to… quieter, less clinical, and more inviting.
He opens a door to a room still under construction. One wall is missing entirely, framing the rough timber and scaffolding beyond.
Keith steps inside. “This will be your office-slash-treatment space. It’ll have a private exit out back. I’m still figuring out the finishes.”
I glance around the shell of the room, and somehow, it feels more real than the glossy reception. Maybe because this is the part that still has questions, just like me.
“I know it’s hard to picture now,” Keith says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But we’re building something good here. The town’s growing. Families are staying. And we need more hands.”
I nod, knowing he’s talking about me. Like if this place can come together piece by piece, then maybe I can too.
“How do you think you’ll like working here?” Keith asks.
I pause, considering. The usual tension I carry isn’t here; the absence of city noise and chaos giving me room to breathe. “I think this is the right step. It feels good.”
Keith grins and grabs me on the shoulder with a friendly squeeze. “I’m glad. I really think this town will grow on you. The people here will love you. It’s a joy working here, and having you on board makes it even better.”
I return his smile, feeling a flicker of something unfamiliar but welcome… hope.
“Want to grab some food in town?” he asks. “Figure it’s good to get you familiar with the spots. Plus, if you go alone later, you won’t get bombarded.”
I frown. That sounds bad. “Bombarded?”
Keith just laughs, unlocking the truck again. “You’ll see.”
We hop back into Keith’s truck, and he drives a couple of minutes down the road before pulling into a small parking lot.
A large sign reading The Cozy Point catches my eye, with people heading out, to go coffee cups in hand, pausing to linger outside, chatting.
I climb out, watching them, wondering how long it will take me to become one of them.
Inside, the diner buzzes with life. The walls are lined with vintage signs and framed photos; a mix of old-town charm and coziness. Mouthwatering scents of sugar, salt, and coffee hit me. My stomach growls in protest.
An older woman with silver-streaked hair, a blue sweater, and rosy cheeks spots Keith and beams. “Morning, Keith!” She wipes her hands on her white apron as she approaches.
“Good morning, Genevieve.”
Her eyes shift to me, widening with curiosity. “And who’s this?” When she glances at Keith, her expression practically shouts, You didn’t tell me.
“This is Adrian. He just moved here,” Keith introduces casually.
“Well, of course you are. I’ve been hearing all about you. Welcome, sweetheart.” She extends her hand but surprises me by pulling me into a hug. I stiffen, and by the time I awkwardly pat her back, she’s already pulled away.
“Let me get you two a table.” She arches an eyebrow at Keith like she’s silently asking if we’re expecting anyone else.
Keith shakes his head, and she leads us to a booth tucked in the back corner.
It’s perfect. I can see the entire diner from here.
I’ve always felt more comfortable with my back to the wall, a habit from years of needing to anticipate what’s next.
“Can I get you started with some drinks?” she asks, handing us menus.
“Sure. I’ll have an Americano, no sugar or cream,” I say.
“And your usual, Keith?” she asks.
“Yes, thank you.”
She saunters off, adjusting her apron as she goes. Flipping open the menu, I pretend to read while sneaking glances around.
The diner is filled with the comforting sounds of conversation, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the occasional clink of silverware hitting plates.
I’m reminded of a familiar Sunday morning spot my dad used to take me to: the smell, the sounds, even the regulars in their usual seats, it’s all coming back.
“So, what’s good here?” I ask, hoping to save myself the effort of choosing.
“The big breakfast is a good choice if you’re hungry. If not, the frittatas and baked goods are amazing. Honestly, everything here is great. That’s why I brought you. Figured you needed to taste the best of what Pulse Point offers.”
“You’re really trying to sell me on a place I already agreed to live in.”
He grins. “There’s still time for you to run.”
Run to where? I swallow the thought, staring at the menu.
Genevieve returns with our drinks. “Have you decided what you’re having?”
“I’ll take the big breakfast, please. Poached eggs with a side of avocado.”
“And for you, Keith?”
“Fried eggs on toast and crispy bacon, thanks.”
She writes it down and disappears into the bustling kitchen.
I glance around again, noting a table stacked with newspapers and used books.
Keith already gets the paper delivered daily, though I’ve initially avoided reading it since the last headline wasn’t exactly flattering.
But curiosity got the better of me. I dug it out of the trash when Keith wasn’t looking and read the article that’s now etched into the town’s memory, thanks to a woman by the name of Amelia.
Keith’s voice pulls me back. “They’re quick with the food here. Morning rush, you know?”
“Yeah, makes sense,” I mumble.
A server swings by with two steaming plates balanced expertly on her arm. “Big breakfast, with poached eggs and avocado for you,” she says, sliding the plate in front of me. “Fried eggs on toast with crispy bacon for the doctor.”
Keith grins. “Actually, Kallie, he’s a doctor too.”
She winks at me. “Welcome.”
I mumble a quiet “Thanks,” and for a few moments, we eat in comfortable silence. The food is greasy in the best way.
Keith wipes at his mouth with a napkin, then leans back. “So… what do you think of the food?”
I finish chewing, wash it down with a sip of coffee, then nod. “It’s delicious.”
He doesn’t push, just nods back, like he knows I’m not just talking about the meal.
But the combination of the food, the quiet, and the back corner is all something I needed.
That’s what I am realizing about Keith. He doesn’t need to say much.
He reads people in a way that we doctors do.
Or maybe it’s just him, still looking after me because I’m his best friend’s kid.
After we eat, heading outside feels like stepping into a different world. People are stringing up lights between trees, setting tables along the blocked-off main street.
“You wait till tonight. The setup is unreal.”
“I don’t get the fuss about a welcome party. I don’t need one.”
“I know, but this town likes to welcome newcomers. It’s a good way to meet everyone. When I lost Sage, these people were there for me. They helped me get back on my feet.”
Guilt clenches in my chest. I wish I could’ve done more. Been there for Keith, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be in the mess I am right now. “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come earlier.”
“No need. That’s what I’m saying; this town is like family. You didn’t need to drop your life because mine fell apart. They helped me rebuild.”
His words feel foreign. Family? I never thought of the city or the hospital that way.
Maybe showing up tonight isn’t just about me. Maybe it’s a way to thank them for looking after Keith when I wasn’t there.
“I’ll come,” I say quietly. “Maybe have a drink. I won’t stay long.”
Even with the article and my picture out there, everyone I’ve met in this town so far has been kind to me. So maybe the party won’t be such a bad idea.