CHAPTER 5
The clock struck midnight before Beth made it home.
She took a quick shower, pulled on her favorite pajamas, and curled up on the couch with yet another cup of coffee.
Bryce had insisted she call, no matter how late—and Beth wanted to be firmly in her comfort zone before dialing the number he’d added to her phone.
She searched her contacts, expecting to find him under “Dr. Jensen,” and came up empty. Then she tried “Bryce”—there he was.
?First Name: Bryce
Last Name: The Secret Hubs?
Beth laughed and shook her head before editing the contact info to update the last name to simply “Jensen” just in case anyone ever saw it.
She left the selfie he’d uploaded as his contact photo, though: the two of them on the plane, her leaning back with eyes closed in dead slumber, him grinning at the camera.
That grin. It made something flutter in her chest—a feeling she’d been ignoring for years and didn’t want to start acknowledging now. He really was quite handsome.
“Please don’t answer, please don’t answer, please don’t answer,” she whispered as the phone rang.
“Hello?” His voice was groggy but alert. She’d clearly woken him.
“I’m sorry—I woke you, didn’t I?”
“Lizzy, you don’t need to be sorry. I asked you to call, no matter the time. How are you?”
The surprise in his tone told her he hadn’t expected her to actually keep the promise. Beth couldn’t blame him—she’d spent the entire drive home trying to justify breaking it.
The name he’d called her finally registered.
“Did you just call me Lizzy?” Her voice lifted, caught somewhere between startled and unsure.
There was a brief pause before his voice, husky with sleep, answered softly.
“Yes. I’ve thought of you as Lizzy for years, but it felt too personal to say out loud. Do you mind?”
Beth considered it. The nickname felt… tender. Intimate. She didn’t dislike it, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about the fluttery warmth that came with hearing it—especially after looking at his photo.
“I’m not sure,” she said, opting for honesty.
“Then I’ll keep calling you Lizzy until you decide you don’t like it. If you ever don’t like it, just tell me.”
“Okay.”
His tone shifted slightly to be more steady, assured. It was the same voice he used to deliver hard news or calm chaos in the emergency room.
“So, Lizzy,” he said again, with a gentle emphasis on the nickname, “how are you holding up tonight?”
“Oh yeah—tonight. It went okay. My parents were shocked speechless—well, momentarily. My mom doesn’t stay speechless for long, and my dad…
well, he’s different. Not in a bad way, just—he’s autistic, so he has a very linear thought process.
Anyway, you get my point. They weren’t expecting this kind of news, but like always, Dad handled it with calm logic, and Mom said whatever popped into her head. We never even ate the red velvet cake.”
She stopped abruptly, realizing she’d been rambling—a habit that always surfaced when nerves took over. “It went okay… good. I think.”
“I’m glad things went well with your parents. And sorry about the dessert,” Bryce said gently, carefully picking his way through her scattered thoughts. “But what I meant was—how are you? Are you okay… physically?”
Beth blinked. “Physically?”
“Yes. I know last night was your first time.”
Her gasp was loud over the line. “OH! Uh… ummm…”
His voice shifted—softer now. Clinical. Measured.
“Medically speaking, it can be painful. And since neither of us remembers… we don’t know how, um, active things were.”
Even though she was alone in her dark apartment, Beth felt her face flush. “Oh. Um, yeah—no, I’m fine,” she mumbled. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. Not with him—even if he was her husband.
There was a pause before Bryce spoke again, his tone the calm, soothing one she’d often heard him use in emergency room. The tone that reassured patients—and now, her.
“Okay. I realize I’m probably the last person you want to talk to about this, but I had to ask. You’re a nurse. You know what’s normal and what’s not. If anything seems off, promise me you’ll talk to someone. Don’t keep it to yourself because of embarrassment.”
The concern in his voice wasn’t clinical—it was personal. His tone anchored her, made her feel safe.
“I’m okay, Bryce. Really. Just a little sore, that’s all.”
She heard him exhale, tension dissipating out in sound—like he’d finally let go of something he’d been gripping too tightly.
“Thanks. I told myself not to worry, but I couldn’t help it.” There was a soft rustle on the other end of the line, the kind that made her imagine him sinking back into bed. “How are you doing otherwise?”
“Honestly?”
“Always.”
Beth inhaled slowly. “I think I’m still in shock.
I know this morning wasn’t a dream—I wouldn’t be talking to you if it was—but it still doesn’t feel real.
It’s like I watched it happen to someone else.
Like I got swept into someone else’s story.
” She paused, her voice softening. “I mean… nothing like this has ever happened to me.”
The heaviness settled again, pressing on her chest—so she reached for a thread of humor.
“I don’t usually marry my coworkers.”
The silence that followed her joke stretched longer than she expected.
“You can laugh. It was a joke,” she added, her tone lighter, trying to break the tension.
“I know,” he said quietly. “It just got me thinking about who you would normally marry. I can’t help but wonder… am I ruining a relationship for you?”
His tone was casual, but something beneath it tugged at her attention—something that sounded suspiciously like jealousy. It surprised and confused her.
Cloaked in the darkness, Beth felt a boldness crept in. Even if they never spoke again after tonight, there was something about this strange connection they shared—something peaceful, almost comforting—that made her want to hold onto it a little longer.
She answered freely, her voice tinged with humor. “I’d have to be in a relationship for that to happen.”
“So, you’re not seeing anyone? Not even casually?” Bryce asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Beth laughed. “No. I don’t date. Period.”
“Why not?” he asked, sounding more curious than judgmental—though she heard a thread of relief in his voice.
“It’s simple. I don’t want to be the one to ask a guy out,” she said, slightly embarrassed.
“I don’t get it. Why would you have to ask?”
“Because, aside from the occasional weirdo at a drive-thru, no one’s asked me out since my high school boyfriend.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Bryce said, his surprise genuine. “You probably just didn’t realize you were being asked.”
“Really?” she said flatly. “Like all those times you asked me out and I just missed it?”
There was a beat of silence before he replied, sheepishly, “Okay, fair.”
“Whether you believe me or not, it’s the truth. For whatever reason, guys just… don’t ask me out.”
Her words made Bryce wish he could see her face—read the emotion behind the humor. On impulse, he tapped the FaceTime button.
She tapped the ignore button.
“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to sound like I thought you were lying. I guess I just figured you’d be annoyed by how often it happened—not that it never did.”
He pivoted. “You mentioned a high school boyfriend. Was it serious?”
“He thought so. But even that kind of just… happened.”
“How does one just kind of happen into dating someone?” Bryce asked, chuckling.
Beth gave a small laugh of her own. “We were best friends. Then, toward the end of senior year, as everyone started pairing off for events, he suggested we just go together. And then somehow, we were dating—holding hands and all that.”
“Teenage romance at its finest,” Bryce deadpanned, using her words from the plane.
Beth laughed. “Exactly.”
“So, how did that ‘unplanned relationship’ end?” he asked. The irony of the question hung heavy between them—realizing she once again found herself in an unplanned relationship.
“We went to different colleges and drifted apart. He wanted to get more serious—I didn’t. I cared about him, he was my best friend, but I’d just signed up for a year-long missions’ trip, and he wasn’t okay with it. So, he ended it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’re okay now. I only ever loved him as a friend, which is good because he’s happily married with two kids. They live up in Denver. I see them occasionally when they visit his parents.”
Beth glanced at the clock. They’d been talking for over an hour.
“It’s getting late,” she said. “But before I go, I wanted to tell you a little more about what my parents said. Mostly what my dad suggested.”
“Right. What did they say?”
Embarrassment washed over her, replacing the relaxed peace of their earlier conversation. Her thoughts scattered again, tumbling over themselves. She tried to organize them—compartmentalize—but her mind spun.
“Well… they weren’t thrilled I didn’t let you come. They asked me to invite you over tomorrow. I’m not sure if you’re working?”
“I’m off. Just tell me when and where.”
“Okay. We also talked about what we should do moving forward. My dad suggested—well, he suggested to Mom and me—that we meet with our pastor tomorrow, if he has time. Just to get an impartial opinion and figure out how to handle all this. What to do next.”
“Okay…”
Bryce’s voice tightened, and she heard it.
He was trying not to let the frustration leak out.
“Are we going to talk after that?” he asked. “So, you can tell me how it went—and what you guys decided?”
The edge in his tone was unmistakable. He wasn’t used to being left out of decisions—and he didn’t like it.
“Wait—you think…” Beth’s words tumbled out in a rush. “No, Bry—I mean, Dr. Jensen—what I meant by we… I meant you and me, not me and my parents. This doesn’t concern them. Well, it does, but I meant…”
She sighed, then tried again, her voice softer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you weren’t included—because you are. My dad actually suggested that we—you and I—talk to my pastor tomorrow, if he’s available. Would you be willing to come to church with me and do that?”
She hesitated, her voice trailing off. “I wasn’t trying to decide everything without you. This affects you as much as it does me. Almost.”
Silence stretched between them, her words still hovering in the air.
There was a pause on his end—then a slow, audible breath. The tension in his voice melted, replaced by something softer. Warmer.
“What church? What time?”
“I don’t have a time yet. I’ll call Pastor Steve in the morning and see when he’s free. It might not even be tomorrow. I attend New Hope Fellowship.”
“Call me when you know. I’ll be there. But Lizzy…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m only coming if you stop calling me Dr. Jensen.”
“Okay. I’ll try. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Lizzy.”
The line was already dead.