Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
EVE
Sally knocked at my door claiming she needed help with Santa’s mother (her mother-in-law).
Which she did. But only to show me a “suspicious mole” that turned out to be chocolate sauce.
Once I was downstairs, away from my emotional support pickle and my methodically organized charts, Sally revealed her true agenda.
“Eve, listen, small towns help doctors and nurses really treat people. Know them. See them,” Sally says, linking her arm through mine. Then she adds, grabbing my other arm dramatically, “Plus, I think I hurt my ankle and need help walking.”
As soon as we arrive at the park, her limp miraculously disappears like Chuck’s wedding vows. Another person directing my movements like a chess piece on their board. I push the thought away. It’s not fair to compare Sally’s well-meaning meddling to Chuck’s calculated control.
“How’s that little troublemaker doing?” Margaret asks as we navigate through the festive crowd. “LoverBoy settling in with your crew?”
“Dorothy’s teaching him her sock-stealing techniques,” I admit. “They’ve formed quite the criminal enterprise.”
“Talking about criminal enterprise.” The conversation shifts to Dante’s Secrets, and Margaret sighs. “I love how Dante truly falls for Catharina when he sees her working as a school nurse tending to that child who broke his arm. Shows his softer side.”
“That was one of the most authentic parts,” I find myself saying. “The way she talked to the boy about managing his cast without scaring him.”
“You sound like you’ve had experience,” Sally observes. “Have you ever considered pediatrics? Or school nursing?”
I shake my head quickly. “Me? No. I’m too clinical. Not maternal enough.” The words come out automatically, echoes of Chuck’s assessments. “My ex always said I’d frighten children with my medical terminology.”
Margaret frowns slightly. “Really? Because I saw you with Megan, explaining her glucose monitor using those dinosaur stickers. You made a complicated medical concept accessible without talking down to her. That little girl hasn’t stopped asking about ‘Nurse Eve’.”
“That was…” I trail off, something shifting in my perception. The memory of Megan’s delighted face flashes through my mind, challenging Chuck’s voice in my head. “A moment.”
“If you say so…”
“If Dante were real,” I say, changing the subject as my cheeks warm, “he’d need custom underwear and would pass out every time he got excited due to blood redistribution issues.”
Margaret’s laugh is full-throated and uninhibited—the kind that would have had Chuck hissing “we’re in public” with that tight smile that meant I’d embarrassed him again.
Instead, Margaret wipes tears from her eyes and says, “Eve Foster, you are exactly what this town needs. Or someone in this town.”
It’s too much, too fast. This easy acceptance, this sense of belonging I haven’t earned. I step away, mumbling something about needing hot chocolate.
Three older women nod as I pass, whispering something about “the Chicago nurse” that makes me walk faster.
“Unicorn hot chocolate for the lady who’s running from carolers?” Frank steps beside me, his professional insurance-agent smile firmly in place.
I straighten my spine. “I’m not running. I’m... strategically relocating.”
“Of course.” His gaze flickers to where I left Margaret and Sally. “They can be a lot. The whole town can, honestly.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say dryly.
Frank steps closer, lowering his voice. “Adam told you he’s leaving soon, right?”
Something in his tone sets off my clinical alarm bells. “He mentioned it.”
“Did he mention where?” Frank studies my face with an intensity that feels almost medical. “No? Interesting.”
“I didn’t ask.” The lie slides out easily. “I’m temporary. He’s temporary. Details aren’t necessary.”
“See, that’s what’s funny about Pine Creek.” Frank’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “People act like they’re passing through, then they’ve put down roots. Or they convince others to put down roots with a person, then destroy those roots quicker than you can say ‘let’s take a break.’”
I bristle at his insinuation. “I’m a nurse, not a houseplant. As for Adam—”
“As for Adam what?” Frank raises an eyebrow.
“As for Adam,” I continue, finding my professional voice, “if you have something to say about him, you should probably say it to him directly.”
Frank takes a step back, evaluating me with newfound interest. “He didn’t mention you had claws, Chicago.”
“I’m a medical professional, Mitchell. I have surgical precision.”
His smile shifts, taking on a calculating edge. “Speaking of medical professionals, I heard there was some trouble at your hospital in Chicago. Something about a suspension?”
My spine stiffens. “You heard about that all the way out here?”
“Insurance business,” he shrugs, but his eyes remain sharp. “We keep tabs on medical professionals before hiring. Risk assessment and all that.”
I feel a presence directly behind me, a solid warmth that sends electricity down my spine before I even turn. The scent of pine and winter air wraps around me as Adam steps close—too close for casual acquaintances.
“Everything okay here?” His voice is calm but carries an undertone that has Frank taking a half-step back.
“Just chatting with Chicago about hot chocolate recommendations,” Frank says smoothly. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
As he walks away, I’m acutely aware of Adam’s presence behind me, his breath stirring the hair at my temple. I should step forward, create professional distance, maintain boundaries. Instead, I find myself leaning back slightly, the solid wall of his chest a reassurance I didn’t know I was seeking.
“The unicorn hot chocolate is truly best,” Adam murmurs.
My shoulders don’t tighten. My jaw doesn’t clench. Instead, my traitor body wants to lean back, experience his strong arms around my waist, his lips on my hair.
It’s the romance-novel talk with Margaret and Sally affecting my neurotransmitters. Nothing more. Chemical response. Totally explainable.
“Do you want one?” I ask, keeping my voice at a proper professional distance from breathless.
He shakes his head. “Nope, but I’ll grab another waffle. Do you want one?”
“With chocolate?” I hear myself ask, like we’ve been doing this for years.
“Yes, ma’am.”
And as we stroll through the park to sit on benches by the ice rink, far enough from the crowd to pretend we’re alone but close enough that no one will assume we’re having sex, I bite into the waffle.
The crisp exterior gives way to a tender center, steam rising with the scent of butter.
Melted chocolate drips down my fingers, and I can’t help but involuntarily make a sound that belongs in an entirely different setting.
Adam’s eyes darken. “That good?”
“That good.” I confirm.
Before we can elaborate on just how good, Megan rushes toward us, her father in tow.
“Nurse Eve, Nurse Eve!” She jumps ups and downs, showing me how she’s remembering to do her diabetes reading, like I showed her. And Wes gives me one of those smiles that makes so much worth it: like I made a difference in someone’s life. Made it better.
“That’s great,” I whisper and clear my throat. “Great.” Now I sound like I’m using a loud speaker. Why am I like that? Not knowing how to talk to a kid if I’m not wearing my scrubs.
My scrubs used to be a safe place. Then it became armor. And now? Now it’s both home and scary all at once.
And without them? I’m even more lost.
The moment with the group was a glitch. Nothing more. So why do I wish it could be a baseline?
“Can you watch me ice skating?”
“Sure,” I reply and for a few minutes, Adam and I watch Wes and Megan take on the ice.
The laughter. The music. It’s too much. It feels right.
The kind of right that makes every muscle loosen, that makes me forget to brace for the next blow.
My shoulders actually drop, and for a terrifying second I believe I could stay like this.
“This is weird,” I say suddenly.
Adam’s thumb pauses on my thigh. “What is?”
“Being here. Doing... this. With you.” I watch Megan spinning. “Feeling almost like myself.”
“Is it bad?”
“No. Just... unfamiliar. Weird. Because it feels weirdly safe,” I murmur before I can stop myself. “That’s the weird part.” I pick at the waffle wrapper. “I’m almost not waiting for the other shoe to drop. And my shoulders are actually relaxed. No tension headache.”
“I’m basically medicine, is what you’re saying?”
“Yep. You should be FDA approved.”
He smiles at me. “I’m so glad all the medical progress. I know chemo must have been harsh and hard. I’m glad it saved you even if it hurt you, too.”
“Me too.”
“And I’m not glad your ex was an asshole but man am I glad you’re here.”
I wave at Megan who waves back at me and clear my throat.
“You know what fucked me up most about Chuck? Not even the cheating. It was the manipulation. The white lies to make himself look better not once, twice, but all the time. And then with Jennie? Finding out half the hospital knew and I didn’t.
Hell, the cafeteria lady gave me pity free coffee for weeks before I figured out why. ”
Adam’s hand tightens slightly.
“That’s what I can’t shake,” I continue.
“Being the last to know about my own life. Walking around like an idiot while everyone else had the full picture.” I sigh.
“And finding myself trying to gather pieces of myself I didn’t even remember existed.
And yet, I can’t go home to Cape Cod for more than a week without feeling like I’m being measured against who I used to be.
Or pitied for who I became. I don’t know what’s worse. The secrets or the silence."
"But why do you want to go back to Chicago? Isn't it where the secrets were?"
"You mean people knowing about Chuck and Jennie? Him lying to me while he built a different life while making me smaller and smaller?"
He nods, his jaw clenching.