Chapter 74

"If you try to lift that timber crate by yourself while your thoracic muscles are still recovering from a severe pulmonary infection, I am going to revoke your house-key and lock you out on the porch," Raphael said, not looking up from the clipboard where he was updating the rural clinic’s spring inventory.

Elias paused, one hand resting heavily on the rough-hewn pine of the shipping crate he had just hauled off the coastal delivery truck. A faint, dry cough rattled in his chest, quickly suppressed, before a slow, knowing smirk touched the corners of his lips. "You wouldn't survive the night out here in the wind, Raphael. You've grown entirely too accustomed to heated rooms and proper bedding."

"I survived a shooting in a hospital VIP suite, a safe house siege, and fourteen months of listening to you hallucinate about your criminal syndicate while bathing your chest in ice water," Raphael retorted, finally turning his head to skewer Elias with a withering, clinical glare. "Moving a crate of heavy-duty drywall anchors is entirely beneath your current recovery parameters, Elias. Put it down."

Elias chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through his broad frame, though he obediently released the crate and stepped back, letting it settle onto the newly thawed soil of the village square. "The snow has barely cleared from the upper ridge, yet you're already treating me like an invalid who needs round-the-clock cardiac telemetry."

"You were an invalid who needed round-the-clock telemetry three days ago," Raphael snapped back, closing his clipboard with a sharp slap that echoed across the bustling town center. "And if you tear those internal intercostal sutures loose hauling freight, you get to stitch yourself back together using a kitchen mirror and a fishing line, because I am officially off duty."

"You're never off duty," Elias murmured, stepping closer as the delivery truck rumbled away down the coastal highway, kicking up a spray of damp gravel and melting slush. The air around them smelled of salt, wet pine, and rich earth—a sharp, clean contrast to the antiseptic sting of the city hospital corridors they had left so far behind. "The town council meeting starts in twenty minutes, Doctor. Are you prepared to face the formidable wrath of Mrs. Higgins over the zoning permits for the new pharmacy wing?"

"Mrs. Higgins brought three dozen cinnamon rolls to the clinic this morning and told me my posture was improving," Raphael said, adjusting the sleeves of his dark wool sweater as they began walking side by side down the awakening cobblestone street. "I am entirely untouchable."

"Bribery," Elias observed dryly, his dark eyes scanning the vibrant green shoots pushing up through the damp earth along the pathway. "She knows the way to a surgeon's heart is through high-fructose pastry and blind village loyalty."

"It's called community integration, Elias. Something you should try instead of intimidating the local fishermen into giving us their best catch of cod every Tuesday."

"I don't intimidate them. I negotiate fairly."

"You stand on the dock staring silently at them with your arms crossed until they practically throw the ice chests at your feet."

"And yet, we always have fresh fish for dinner." Elias caught Raphael’s arm briefly, steering him away from a particularly deep puddle of spring runoff without breaking stride. The casual, possessive contact felt as natural as breathing now—a reflex forged in blood, fever, and quiet survival. "Tell me again why we are spending our afternoon arguing about zoning permits when we could be inspecting the greenhouse."

"Because if the town council doesn't approve the structural expansion, your idea of turning the back shed into a secondary triage bay is dead in the water," Raphael said, though he didn't pull his arm away from Elias's grip. "And considering how stubborn you are about your own health, we are going to need a dedicated triage bay just for your recurring medical emergencies."

"My immune system has made a full and miraculous recovery, thanks entirely to your aggressive pharmacological dosing," Elias teased, his voice dropping into a lower, warmer register as they reached the heavy oak doors of the town hall. "Though I must admit, being chained metaphorically to the mattress by an angry trauma surgeon had its unique therapeutic benefits."

"Keep talking like that in public and I'll prescribe you a course of absolute silence," Raphael warned, though a faint flash of color broke through the cool composure of his cheeks.

Before Elias could reply, the heavy oak doors swung open from the inside, revealing the imposing silhouette of Mayor Vance, followed closely by a formidable-looking array of local elders holding thick folders of municipal paperwork.

"Ah, the dynamic duo of the coastline," Mayor Vance boomed, stepping out onto the stone porch and extending a weathered hand toward Elias, then Raphael. "We were just wondering if you two were going to leave us hanging on the pharmacy expansion plans. The town needs those additional antibiotic supplies before the summer tourist rush hits."

"The architectural drafts are fully compliant with regional safety codes," Raphael said immediately, slipping effortlessly back into his authoritative, polished professional persona—though this time, the sterile armor felt less like a cage and more like a tool. "And Elias has personally audited the supply chain logistics to ensure zero logistical bottlenecks."

"Logistics audited by a former syndicate boss," Elias added with a completely straight, deadpan expression that made Mayor Vance blink twice before bursting into a hearty, unbothered laugh.

"Well, if he can run a shipping empire, he can certainly manage a shipment of gauze and penicillin," the mayor declared, clapping Elias hard on the shoulder—right over the recovering intercostal muscle.

Raphael narrowed his eyes instantly, tracking Elias's micro-expression for any sign of a wince. When Elias didn't even flinch, merely offering a polite, controlled nod, Raphael let out an imperceptible sigh of relief.

"Shall we go inside and review the financials, then?" Elias asked, holding the heavy door open for Raphael and the town officials, his dark gaze locking onto Raphael's with an intensity that entirely ignored the bureaucratic chaos waiting for them inside.

Raphael stepped past him, brushing close enough that the fabric of their coats whispered together in the cool spring air. "Try not to intimidate the zoning committee, Elias. Save the cold-blooded corporate intimidation tactics for actual criminals."

"No promises," Elias murmured softly, following him into the bright, crowded room as the door clicked shut behind them, sealing the warmth of their new life against the crisp ocean breeze.