Chapter 66
Nora's POV
I peeled the eggshell slowly, keeping my eyes down, but I couldn't help watching him from the corner of my vision. The way he moved was almost hypnotic.
I forced myself to focus on my egg. But the silence was so complete that only the sound of his knife and fork remained.
"You don't really talk much during meals, do you?" I blurted out, trying to break the silence.
Julian looked up, those silver-gray eyes locking onto mine. "In the military, meals were supposed to be quick and quiet. Energy intake, nothing more." He paused, setting down his fork. "And when I was younger, my family had strict rules. No talking at the table."
I blinked. "So you still follow that now?"
He smiled faintly. "Now there's no emergency mission. No one enforcing rules. It's just... habit." He leaned back slightly. "But if you want to talk, I'm more than happy to keep you company."
Something softened in my chest. I thought about what he'd just said—military discipline, strict family rules. He made it sound so simple, but I could read between the lines. His "perfection" wasn't natural. It was built on years of self-control.
"The military must have been hard," I said quietly.
"It was." His tone was even, but his gaze lingered on me a moment longer than necessary. "But it taught me what mattered."
Before I could respond, he finished the last bite on my plate and wiped his mouth with the napkin. Then he looked at me directly.
"If you want to know more," he said, his voice steady but serious, "I could take you to the border garrison where I served."
I hesitated. Is he serious?
He tilted his head slightly, studying my reaction. Then he asked, quietly but clearly: "Nora. Do you want to know me?"
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I knew what he meant. This wasn't about tourism or casual interest. He was following up on the two things he'd mentioned last night. One about work. One about... us.
I swallowed hard. "I..."
"Let's start with the first question," he interrupted gently. "The job offer. Have you decided?"
I took a shaky breath. This one I could answer. This one I'd already made up my mind about.
"I can't accept it," I said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
I met his gaze. "Because when I became a field caseworker, it was because I wanted to help people directly. The ones in Cold Creek. The ones no one remembers. If I work in your office, I'll be writing reports, coordinating budgets, sitting in meetings with congressmen..." I paused. "That's important work. But it's not my work."
I leaned forward slightly. "Every time I help someone—even if it's just delivering a box of canned food or filling out a medical aid form—that's what matters to me. That feeling... nothing else can replace it."
Julian didn't speak for a long moment. Then he nodded once. "I respect that."
Relief flooded through me. He's not angry. He's not pushing.
I opened my mouth to say something about the second question, but he held up one hand.
"Wait," he said.
I froze.
His silver eyes stayed locked on mine. "Two questions. I'll only accept one refusal."
My brain short-circuited. "What?"
He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. His voice was calm, but there was no room for argument. "You already refused the job. So the second question—about me pursuing you—you can't refuse that one."
"That's not fair!"
"Nora." He tilted his head slightly, and I saw the faint hint of amusement in his expression. "I don't make moves unless I know I'll win."
I stared at him, completely thrown. He's not joking. He's dead serious.
"I—" I scrambled for words. "I admit I have... feelings. But I don't know if it's actually liking you or just... admiration. You're impressive. Any woman would be drawn to you. But maybe it's just—"
"An illusion?" he finished for me.
I nodded, relieved he understood. "Exactly. At a specific time, meeting a specific person... it's easy to mistake things." I looked down at my hands. "Maybe when you go back to Aetheria and meet other women—better women—you'll realize I'm nothing special."
Silence.
When I finally looked up, Julian's expression had shifted. Not angry. Just... focused.
"Nora," he said slowly. "I'm thirty years old. Not eighteen. I know the difference between novelty and genuine interest."
He leaned closer. "You think I'll meet 'better women'? I've spent my entire career surrounded by people trying to impress me. And I've never felt this way about any of them."
His voice dropped. "You don't need to doubt whether you're special. To me, you are."
I couldn't breathe.
"Do you dislike me?" he asked.
I shook my head quickly. "No. I don't."
"Then that's enough." He leaned back, and the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "Since you don't dislike me, and you admit you have feelings... I'm moving forward."
I just stared at him.
He stood, buttoning his coat. Before he turned to leave, he looked down at me one last time.
"One more thing," he said. "I don't like it when you call me Sterling. In private, call me Julian."
I blinked. "What?"
The corner of his mouth lifted. "Or... when you're ready, you can call me something more personal."
My face exploded.
He didn't wait for a response. He just walked toward the exit, his stride calm and unhurried.
---
I returned to the hotel room, Julian's words from breakfast still echoing in my head.
I shook my head and forced myself to focus. I couldn't think about him right now. Mom's treatment was what I should be concerned about.
I grabbed my toiletry bag and shoved it into my duffel with more force than necessary.
The hotel checkout took less than five minutes. I hauled my bag to the car, tossed it in the trunk, and sat behind the wheel for a long moment. The engine ticked as it cooled. I gripped the steering wheel and forced myself to breathe.
I turned the key and drove toward St. Mary's Medical Center.