Chapter 18
Adrian
Is there more than just holiday cheer in the air?
If you were at the fundraiser yesterday, you might have noticed the undeniable chemistry between Dr. Adrian Pierce and our very own Amelia Richards.
Sources say they were practically inseparable, sharing inside jokes and even getting a little hands-on.
Purely accidental, of course. But the real question is: will their “just friends” act hold up much longer?
The way he looked at her. Well, let’s just say, if looks could kiss…
Dr. Whisperer
I push open the door to the diner, the scent of fresh coffee and buttery pastries overwhelming my senses.
Conversations quieten as I step inside, followed by hushed whispers.
I catch a few glances thrown my way, the kind that hold just a second too long.
My jaw tightens. It’s been weeks since I arrived, but apparently, the town still has nothing better to discuss than my personal life.
Even Genevieve, who’s usually too busy running the place to care about town gossip, gives me a look, that familiar raised eyebrow I’ve seen her use on customers who’ve had one too many cups of coffee, her lips twitching like she’s deciding whether to say something.
I frown. “What?”
She shakes her head, smiling knowingly. “Nothing.”
That’s a lie. But I’m not about to play into whatever rumor is making the rounds this morning. I focus on the reason I came: coffee. A large iced honey latte with white chocolate cold foam with a little drizzle of caramel for her and an Americano for me.
With coffees in hand, I make my way to Pulse Point.
The drive should be quiet, but my mind won’t settle.
Today’s interview feels different. I want this to go well for her, for the article to be exactly what she envisions.
The fundraiser was a success, but the story behind it, the real reason we did it, is just as important.
What I’m not sure about is whether we can sit across from each other and pretend that almost-kiss didn’t happen, pretend there isn’t the tension that seems to bubble whenever we’re in the same room.
I pull into the parking lot and scan the area. Her car isn’t here yet. The disappointment that hits is deeper than I expected. I’ve been looking forward to seeing her, even if things between us feel complicated now.
I settle at one of the picnic tables.
Glancing down at myself, I smooth out the crisp white shirt I chose for today. It’s nothing fancy, just clean, fitted, paired with dark jeans. A suit would’ve been overkill, but I still wanted to look… decent. Professional but presentable.
Who am I kidding? I just didn’t want to look like an idiot in her article photo.
A familiar car pulls in, and before she even steps out, I’m already smiling. I shouldn’t be this happy to see her, not when we’re supposed to be keeping things professional, but it’s impossible not to.
Amelia climbs out with her camera, a leather notebook and pen in hand, radiating confidence.
She’s dressed in fitted black pants and a soft blue sweater that hugs her figure just right, the color making her eyes stand out.
Her long brown hair with blonde tips is loose today, catching in the breeze as she walks toward me, and for a second, I just take her in, effortlessly put together and just as beautiful.
“Hey.” I hold out her coffee. “Thought you might need this.”
“You remembered. Thank you.” She accepts it with a small smile.
Then walks toward the table and sits down, flipping open her notebook with slightly less urgency than usual.
“Let’s get started,” she says, her voice softer than yesterday but still focused.
“We’ll do the interview first, and then I’ll grab your picture. ”
Something feels off today. As if something’s bothering her.
I lean forward slightly, covering her hand with mine. “Everything okay?”
She glances up. “Yeah, just… trying to stay professional.”
I nod, understanding exactly what she means, so I pull my hand away, and her grip on her pen shifts.
I watch as she pulls out her phone and sets it between us. “Mind if I record this?” Her finger hovers over the screen.
“Go ahead,” I say, waving to the phone.
The red dot appears, and suddenly, my story settles on me like stone, but I push through. “All right then.” I settle in. “Ask away.”
She nods, her expression unreadable, though I swear I catch the flicker of something… concern, maybe?
“Let’s start with the fundraiser.”
I glance down at my fingers, tapping against the coffee cup. My throat tightens. “I guess I should tell you why it meant so much to me.” The words feel heavier than they should. “My mom left when I was twelve. It was just me and my dad after that.”
Shifting in my chair, my grip tightens around the cup. The familiar ache spreads through my chest; it never gets easier talking about him. “He was my rock. The kind of man who worked hard, never complained, and always put me first. And then, a year ago, he passed away.”
Amelia doesn’t move, but I can feel her attention on me like a steady pulse.
I clear my throat. “He had a massive heart attack. We were at home. I remember performing CPR, my hands pressing down on his chest, counting in my head, yelling at him to wake up. I don’t even remember calling the ambulance… just the feeling of helplessness.”
I can feel myself pulling inward, like I’m trying to protect myself from the memory as I’m sharing it.
“It was like an out-of-body experience. When it’s someone you love, when you’re trained to save lives, and you still can’t do a damn thing.
.. it destroys you. I had no medical equipment at home, and by the time the paramedics arrived, they told me to stop.
But I couldn’t. I just… couldn’t. I kept going, even when they pulled me back. Even when I knew it was too late.”
The forest around us rustles, birds chirp, and branches sway in the breeze, but all I hear is the sound of my father’s last breaths. My throat tightens, and I have to force myself to breathe normally.
I close my eyes, trying to pull myself together, before I reopen them and speak.
“From that moment on, I made it my mission to make sure no one else died in my hands. I know it’s stupid to think that way…
I mean, death is inevitable, but I swore I’d do everything I could to stop it when I had the chance. ”
Amelia’s focus is intense, but in the caught-off-guard kind of way. Like she’s truly taking in everything I have to say. I drag a hand through my hair, not caring that I’m messing it up for the photo.
“That’s why, when I was at my last job, I couldn’t accept the dismissal of a patient.
They were deteriorating, and I wanted to try something…
anything… but the orders from my senior said no.
I wasn’t supposed to intervene. But I couldn’t just stand there and let them die.
So I did something.” I can still see that patient’s face, still remember the way the monitors looked, the moment when I made the decision that would change everything.
A beat of silence. Then her soft voice asks, “What happened?”
The combination of my dad’s death, the patient, the lawsuit, everything crashes over me, and for a minute, I’m not sure I can get the words out. My throat feels raw. “I ordered extra tests, imaging, even tried new medication, but sadly, he died anyway.”
Her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t say anything.
“The board didn’t like that I went against orders.
Six years of my life at that hospital meant nothing.
The patient’s family called it negligence.
They didn’t know… didn’t care that I was trying to give them a chance.
They only saw a doctor who didn’t follow protocol.
And I get it, but all I could think about was what that family must have felt, losing someone they loved just like I did.
” I’ve never told anyone this, well, not the whole story, not like this.
It doesn’t feel as terrifying as I thought it would.
I rub my jaw, staring down at the table. The frustration that’s been building for months finally spills over. “Nobody gets to tell me how to feel. Not when they still have their brothers, sisters, or parents. I have no one. So all my care goes into my patients.”
Amelia sits quietly, the conversation hanging between us.
“And do you think you’ve changed?” she asks softly. “Now that you’ve moved here?”
I think about it for a moment. Images flash through my mind—the fundraiser, the community coming together, the way people here actually seem to care about each other.
It’s different from the isolation I felt at my last job, but the drive is still there.
“Not in terms of wanting to help people. That will never change. But I’ve learned that this path isn’t easy. And it never will be.”
My fingers tighten around my coffee cup.
“The CT scanner project bothers me because I know what a difference it could make. I became a doctor to save lives. And I’ll do everything in my power to help.
That’s why I’m grateful to everyone who donated their time, their hard work, and their money to this. It will change lives.”
She looks at me… really looks at me. And in her brown eyes, I see something that I’ve been longing for. Understanding.
It’s not pity. Not judgment. Just pure understanding.
I swallow hard, letting the silence stretch.
Finally, she gives me a soft smile. “I didn’t realize your mom left when you were young.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I don’t blame her. Mentally, she just couldn’t cope being a parent, and it was the best thing for her.” The words come out automatically; it’s what I’ve told myself for years, but I’m not sure I believe them anymore. Maybe it’s easier than admitting she abandoned me.
She doesn’t say anything, just watches me.
“She died only a couple of years later.”
There’s a flicker of something in her expression—genuine sympathy that she doesn’t try to hide this time.
She grabs her phone and stops the recording, her voice gentler now. “Adrian, I’m sorry your mother left you. I can relate to that because my dad left. He moved across the country and started a new family.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry.”
She waves it off like it’s not a big deal, but I wonder if, deep down, it hurts like mine does. It’s the reason I don’t trust easily, and my circle of people is so small. Is that how it is for her too?
“That’s all the questions,” she says, smiling softly.
“Let’s get the money shot.” I wink, standing.
She giggles as she rises, and the sound is the brightness we need right now.
I follow her to the bridge, grateful for the shift in focus.
“The light through the trees is casting these beautiful soft shadows across the cobblestones.” She glances back at me with something warmer in her expression.
“I think here will be perfect.” She nods to the spot where the pillar meets the bridge’s archway.
I lean against the bricks, one knee bent, hands tucked into my pockets. The rough texture of the wall presses against the back of my head as I give her a natural smile.
She lifts her camera, takes a few shots, then lowers it slightly. “You know, you make this look effortless. Most people get all stiff in front of a camera.”
“Maybe I just have the right photographer.”
With a roll of her eyes, she bites back a grin, ignoring me to take a few more shots. But when she lowers the camera, the air charges, like it did yesterday.
She’s not packing up. Instead, she’s just looking at me, and I can see the conflict in her eyes—professional duty mixed with something deeper.
I push off the wall, closing the distance between us slowly. “Amelia…”
She doesn’t step back. “Adrian, we shouldn’t—”
But her voice lacks conviction, and when I reach up to brush a strand of hair from her face, she doesn’t pull away.
The urge to kiss her pulses in my veins. It’s probably a bad idea, but looking at her now, seeing the way her brown eyes look up at me… Fuck it.
I dip my head, closing the space between us, and press my lips to hers before she can talk me out of it. She stills, just for a second. Then, she melts into me.
My hands roam over her back, memorizing every curve, every shiver under my touch.
Her lips are soft, warm, intoxicating. I part my mouth, tracing the seam of hers with my tongue, and she responds instantly, opening up to me, her tongue meeting mine.
Electricity shoots through me, and I deepen the kiss, pressing her tighter against me, her camera wedged between us.
I turn her around as her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging slightly, and I groan against her lips, walking her backward under the bridge until her back meets the wall. I cage her in, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her waist.
We kiss like we’ve been dying for this moment, because we’ve been dancing around it for too long. And it’s perfect. She’s perfect.
Her body presses against mine, a fire of desire burning inside me, and I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to let this moment slip away.
When we finally pull apart, gasping for air, I rest my forehead on hers, my hands still holding her like she might disappear.
Her voice is breathless when she finally speaks. “What are we going to do now?”