Ethan slid back into the car, the faintest blush still warming his cheeks. As the engine hummed to life and the car pulled away from the hospital, he leaned back into the seat, one arm resting casually on the window.
He replayed the moment in his mind—her sudden kiss, the way she bolted like a startled rabbit, her laughter trailing behind her. It was so unexpected, so purely Jillian.
His grin widened, eyes soft with amusement and something deeper.
"She really has no idea what she does to me," he murmured under his breath, shaking his head slightly.
For the rest of the ride, nothing else mattered. His phone buzzed with work updates, emails piled up, but all he could think about was that fleeting kiss... and how he was already looking forward to the next one.
Later that morning, Jillian sends a text message,
"I don't know what today holds, but… thank you for being my calm before the storm."
Ethan, already in a meeting, saw the message light up his screen. His lips curved into a soft smile, one his board had never seen before. He typed back beneath the table.
Ethan:
"And I'll be your calm after it too, if you let me."
She read the reply just as she was heading out the door, and for the first time in days, she felt truly grounded.
At MyCorp in the president's office, Charles walked in holding a file, but his eyes were on Ethan's face—not the documents. Ethan, leaning back in his chair, wore a grin he wasn't even trying to hide.
Charles arched a brow. "Should I be concerned or relieved that you're smiling at your laptop like that?"
Ethan didn't look up. "Neither. Just appreciating a good morning."
"Right," Charles said dryly, placing the file on the desk. "I assume 'a good morning' now includes hospital drop-offs and stolen kisses at the entrance?"
That got Ethan's attention. He glanced up, amused. "You spying on me now?"
Charles smirked. "I didn't have to. Half the staff was talking about it. You do know subtlety used to be your strong suit?"
Ethan set the laptop aside, sitting up straighter. "I'm not hiding it anymore."
There was a short pause. Charles's smirk faded into something more thoughtful. "You're serious about her."
Ethan met his gaze. "I always have been."
Charles gave a short nod, then turned to leave. At the door, he paused. "Just be sure the world doesn't use her to get to you."
Ethan's jaw clenched slightly, but he said nothing.
After the door closed, he sat still for a moment, then looked back at his screen—at her last message—and quietly whispered, "Not this time."
Back to the hospital, Jillian had barely settled into her routine when the intercom crackled to life.
"Dr. Smith, please report to Emergency—urgent VIP case incoming."
She blinked, her thoughts still drifting to Ethan's grin when she kissed him goodbye. With a sigh, she snapped into gear, grabbed her coat, and rushed down the hallway.
The ward was buzzing. A high-profile patient—a retired ambassador—had collapsed during a conference and was being rushed in. Cameras were outside, media trying to sneak in. Pressure was in the air.
"Vitals unstable," the nurse briefed her quickly. "History of heart complications."
Jillian took over with swift instructions. Her tone was calm, but her fingers trembled ever so slightly. Focus, Jillian. Now's not the time to fall apart.
As she worked, her earlier giddiness was swept away by responsibility. Her eyes locked with the patient's—scared, barely conscious—and something clicked. She became all doctor. Efficient. Steady.
Two hours passed before the patient was stable. When she finally stepped out to breathe, her colleagues looked at her in admiration. One whispered, "She really is something."
Jillian allowed herself a small smile—worn but proud. This is my place. This is who I am, even before Ethan. And just like that, she stood taller.
After the exhausting emergency case, Jillian barely had time to sit when the hospital director entered her office with an unreadable expression.
"You've been given the rest of the day off," he said with a small nod. "Someone made a call."
Before she could ask, her phone buzzed.
Ethan Hunter: I'm outside. Come out before I make it a public rescue.
A smile tugged at her lips.
Outside, Jillian stepped into the sunlit parking lot—and there he was. Leaning casually against his car, arms folded, sunglasses on, grin unmistakable.
"You really called the director?" she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Of course. My fiancée almost passed out from overworking. I'm a responsible man."
He glanced at her with a mischievous smirk.
"But really… I just wanted to see you blush again like this morning."
Jillian swatted his arm lightly. "That was a one-time thing."
He leaned closer, teasing, "That's not what your lips said."
Her face heated, and Ethan laughed, the sound rich and warm as he pulled the car onto the road.
"Let's go find you something sweet—before I steal another kiss in public."
The car rolled to a stop in front of an elegant, gated property tucked between quiet trees and vibrant hedges. Jillian stepped out and blinked in surprise.
A sea of blooms stretched before her—roses, tulips, orchids, wildflowers—all dancing under the soft afternoon sun. Fountains trickled in the distance, and white stone paths led through lush displays of color and fragrance.
Ethan watched her reaction quietly.
"This is yours?" she asked, turning to him in awe.
"One of my favorite escapes," he said. "Now yours too."
They wandered through the flower-lined paths, laughter mingling with birdsong. Jillian reached out to touch petals, sometimes letting Ethan tuck a flower behind her ear. At one point, she tried to chase a butterfly and stumbled—Ethan caught her effortlessly, grinning.
"You really are bad at staying calm," he teased.
"And you're bad at giving normal surprises," she countered, breathless from laughter.
They found a shaded bench under a blooming trellis. Sitting close, the silence between them was warm, content. Jillian leaned her head slightly on Ethan's shoulder, a rare ease settling over her.
"I haven't felt this peaceful in a long time," she whispered.
Ethan reached out, brushing a petal from her hair. "Then let's make sure it lasts."
The trellis above them swayed gently, casting soft floral shadows on their skin. Jillian lifted her head, catching Ethan's eyes. The warmth in his gaze wasn't teasing this time—it was steady, serious, and full of something unspoken.
"I used to wonder," he began quietly, "if I'd ever find a peace that wasn't bought, a moment that didn't feel like a transaction." His hand found hers, fingers threading between hers naturally. "Then you came in like a storm I didn't see coming—and stayed like a quiet sunrise I never knew I needed."
Jillian's breath caught. Her heart thudded fast, not from nerves, but from the truth she felt pressing at the edge of her lips. She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she turned slightly to face him.
"You make it hard to protect my heart," she whispered.
"I'm not here to break it," he replied, voice low and close. "I'm here to hold it, if you'll let me."
He leaned in slowly—giving her time, space to move if she needed. But she didn't. Her eyes fluttered closed as their lips met softly, surrounded by the sweet scent of blooming roses and the hush of the late afternoon breeze.
The kiss was not rushed. It was warm, reassuring—something that promised more than fleeting passion. It lingered like the memory of a first real home.
When they pulled apart, Jillian rested her forehead against his chest, smiling.
"I think this storm was worth it," she murmured.