Page 104 of Dr. Stone

“Let me put this shit in the pantry, and I’ll join you.”

She mumbled something as I rushed to get everything put away in record time so I could join her on the couch. I settled in so she could rest her head and pillow on my lap, and then I gently stroked her forehead.

“That feels wonderful,” she said, letting out a breath it seemed she’d been holding in the entire time I’d been here.

“That crab dip nailed your ass,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

She softly chuckled in my lap, “How did your studying go today?”

“I think I’ve got enough down to march in there with Jake and help pull off a damn miracle tomorrow. At least, I hope so.”

“Wow, is it a hard one?”

“It’s a monster. It’ll be twelve hours minimum on a kid who has a congenital valve defect. Jake and I are leading it.”

“You’ll save him,” she whispered, drifting off.

I stared at her, taking in the shape of her mouth and the way her body rested against me, like it instinctively trusted I’d keep her safe. But there was something more—something I hadn’t felt since those first enamored thoughts about her took hold. It was the overwhelming urge to protect her. To scoop her up, take her back to my place, and let her sleep soundly with me holding her until I had to leave for work in the morning.

As unfamiliar as these feelings were, they felt damn good, like they woke something up in me. Something that made me feel more alive than I already did, just being near her.

I leaned over, kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “Get better, sunshine.”

I pulled out my phone, opened the downloaded version of my medical journal, and finally settled into it. It was easier to focus now that Andie was safe, resting, and right here where I could watch over her for the next few hours.

The following week flew by,mostly because work kept my confused and increasingly frustrated ass consumed. I barely had time to think, let alone process why I wasn’t getting real responses to the texts I’d sent Andie since I last saw her at her place when she was sick. The few replies I did get throughout the week were vague and sporadic. The lastnormaltext I received from her came the night after she was sick, when she said she was feeling better. After that, it was like I was talking to an entirely different person.

I texted her asking to come over, but she didn’t respond to that text until the next day in the afternoon with,‘Sorry, I had to go get Brandon. Text you tomorrow…’

Tomorrow came and went. And so did the next.

Between being slammed at work and Andie suddenly acting distant as fuck, I needed answers. Today was my only day offbefore back-to-back surgeries tomorrow, and I couldn’t keep sitting in the dark like some lovesick idiot.

She hadn’t even returned my call last night—just a simplehey, you want to do something after work?Nothing heavy. Nothing that should’ve been hard to answer. And still… silence.

I wasn’t angry. Not yet. Just confused as hell. And holding on—clinging, if I was honest—to the last night I knew without a doubt that she was mine. The night she’d been curled on her couch, pale and shaky, tucked into my arms like I was the only place she felt safe.

That memory was starting to feel like a dream. And I hated how badly I needed it not to be.

Ring! Ring! R— … “Hi, you’ve reached Andie Miller. Please leave a message or send a text, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

Straight to voicemail. Shocking,I thought, hating every minute of this unexpected estrangement.

“Hey, Andie,” I said, leaving her a message. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel like you’re avoiding me. If you’re not okay, please tell me. If you need some space, say the word, and I’ll give it to you, but I can’t continue to make assumptions about what’s happening on your end or where that leaves us,” I paused, trying to get my inner surgeon to take over so I could leave my emotions out of this. “Please call me back.”

A minute later, my text alert dinged.

Andie: Can I come over after work?

Jace: I would like that.

I stared at the screen, everything in me tensing with more confusion than ever. What the fuck happened to create any of this shit?

Twenty minutes later, Andie was at my private gate, and I was walking out to greet her at her car.

She stepped out, looking exhausted and worn down, but not sick like the last time I saw her. She stood beside the car, staring at the house and the view around us in silence, like this would be the last time she’d ever be here.

“You look much better. I’m glad you’re feeling well. I’ve been worried about you,” I said honestly.