All Chapters of Diagnosis: Love: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

DEACONDespite the fact that I'd grown up without either of my parents in my life, I'd always loved the holidays. That was entirely thanks to two grandparents who'd made sure that I had the best Christmases possible as a kid, with every bit of celebration and revelry imaginable. We did it all, and we did it up big: from the community party on the weekend before Christmas to the church service on Christmas Eve, from the huge fresh evergreen that took up residence in the corner of the living room in mid-December to the stockings hung on the fireplace, overflowing with gifts. This year, I didn't expect much. After all, Gram and Pop hadn't expected me to be home to spend Christmas with them, so they couldn't be blamed if they'd made other plans or if there was nothing under the tree or in those stockings for me. But to my surprise, when Gram had called me downstairs on Christmas morning-I always spent the night with them on Christmas Eve so that we could enjoy breakfast and gifts togeth

EMMA"Emma? Are you coming in?" Alison poked her head out of the door, her forehead knit together in concern. "Everything okay?" "Yes, sorry. Just . . . lost in thought, I guess." I followed her into the office, swallowing back a groan of frustration when I saw that Deacon was sitting on that damn couch. His eyes met mine, and fuck him to hell and back, I knew he knew what I was remembering. One side of his mouth quirked up, and he pointed at the chair opposite him. "I thought we'd be more comfortable sitting here." He managed to say it blandly, as though I wasn't fully aware of the game he was playing with him. "Sure. Good idea." Alison took the chair, which left me no choice but to sit on the other cushion of the sofa. I edged as far away from Deacon as I could. Alison swiped her fingers over her tablet and launched into a brief refresher history of George Brewer's illness. He was a forty-nine-year old male in good overall health up until a little over a year ago. He'd bee

DEACON"Well, this place is totally adorable." Deanna sat back in her overstuffed chair, steaming mug of cappuccino in her hand, gazing around at the bustling coffee house. "I can't believe I didn't know about it until now." "I can't, either," I chuckled, taking a drink of my own coffee. "Harper Springs isn't that big. Any new business tends to stand out." "Oh, I'm not local." Deanna shook her head and blew on the hot liquid. "I live about forty-five minutes north.""Seriously? That's quite a commute." "I know, believe me." She smiled ruefully. "But the housing market around Harper Springs isn't exactly booming. I didn't want to live in an older apartment above someone's garage, and I'm not ready to buy property yet. I'd like to travel a little before I settle down." Her bright blue eyes rested on me. "I think we have that in common. I get the feeling you're not the kind who wants to stay in one place, either." "Not sure I can say that's true. I own a house here in Harper Spr

EMMAWe carried our drinks onto the deck, one of my favorite parts of my cabin. Jenny and Nico had given me a patio set as a house-warming gift; it was second-hand, because they knew my passion for re-purposing, and Jenny had made all new cushions for the two chairs that flanked a re-finished table and for the cozy wicker loveseat.Noah sank onto one side of that small sofa and patted the space next to him. "C'mere. This is the best seat in the house."I hesitated only a beat. I wasn't sure I could trust myself to sit that close to Noah. But he was right; the placement of the loveseat was perfect for watching the sun set over the distant tree line. I could've dragged over one of the single chairs, but that would have made things awkward, since Noah had specifically requested that I sit down next to him.With a deep sigh, I sank down on the loveseat, kicked off my sandals, and propped my feet onto the small wicker table in front of us. Noah grunted softly and stretched out his arm a

DEACONShe took it from me, frowning slightly. "If it's a peace offering, then we should probably share it, right? Because I'm sure there needs to be peace shared on both sides." I considered her words. "I like the idea, but I don't have any champagne flutes in the office-just regular water tumblers. I have no clue why they didn't stock my office with wine glasses and flutes-it's almost like they think doctors shouldn't be drinking during the day." "Party poopers." Emma winked at me. "Break out the tumblers, Deacon. I'm not too precious to enjoy champagne out of any available delivery method. Please . . . you know, in college, we used to chug it right from the bottle.""Now that's what I'd called sacrilege." I stood up to retrieve the tumblers from the shelf alongside my desk. "Champagne is meant to be sipped and savored, not gulped down teenage throats." "Maybe not. But it wasn't exactly Cristal we were drinking them, remember. It wasn't actually champagne-it was some kind of