His To Heal – Stacy Sterling

That was our rule, Cassian’s and mine. No matter how brutal the week had been, no matter how many surgeries had run late or how many patients we’d lost, Sunday mornings belonged to us. We’d sleep until the light forced us awake. We’d make pancakes with too much butter, the way his grandmother used to. We’d spread the newspaper across the kitchen table and read in comfortable silence, our feet tangled together under the chairs. Small, ordinary things.

The kind that felt like breathing. This Sunday, I woke up to an empty bed. The sheets beside me were cold, which meant Cassian had been up for a while. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence of our apartment. No sizzle of butter in a pan. No quiet hum of music from his phone.

Just stillness, heavy and wrong. I found him in the kitchen. Not making pancakes. Just sitting at the table with a cup of coffee gone cold, staring at nothing. He didn’t look up when I came in. I poured myself a cup from the pot and sat across from him. The coffee was bitter, hours old. I drank it anyway, needing the ritual of it, the normalcy. “We need to talk,” he said.

My stomach dropped. Those four words never meant anything good. In all my years of delivering bad news to patients’ families, I’d learned to recognize the prelude to devastation. The careful breath before the blow. “Okay.” Cassian looked at me, and the exhaustion in his eyes was so deep it seemed carved into his bones. He’d lost weight these past weeks. I’d noticed but hadn’t said anything, too consumed by my own turmoil to address his. “I don’t know how to do this anymore,” he said.

“Do what?” “This. Us.” He wrapped his hands around his cold coffee cup, knuckles pale. “The constant negotiating.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is coincidental. Copyright © 2026 Stacy Sterling All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

OceanofPDF.com CONTENTS Saving Hearts 1. Calla 2. Calla 3. Cassian 4. Cassian 5. Calla 6. Calla 7. Calla 8. Cassian 9. Cassian 10. Calla 11. Calla 12. Cassian 13. Calla 14. Calla 15. Cassian 16. Calla 17. Cassian 18. Calla 19. Cassian 20. Calla Epilogue His to Save (Book 3) Chapter 1 About the Author Leave a Review OceanofPDF.com SAVING HEARTS READING ORDER Book 1: His to Protect Book 2: His to Heal Book 3: His to Save OceanofPDF.com CHAPTER ONE CALLA I stood under the awning of Obsidian Hospital, watching droplets streak down the glass doors while my heart performed gymnastics it hadn’t attempted in five years.

The building was nothing like the crumbling teaching hospital where I’d completed my residency back in Chicago. I told myself this was good. New city, new hospital, new start. My reflection stared back at me from the glass. My deep red hair was pulled into a low bun and my light brown eyes, which I took after my mother, twinkled with eagerness. The white coat I’d ironed this morning sat crisp on my shoulders. I looked good and confident.

I looked like someone who had her life together. “Dr. Karras?” I turned. A young woman in scrubs stood behind me, holding a tablet and wearing a cheerful, innocent smile. “I’m Jenna, Dr. Patel’s assistant. She asked me to meet you and get you started with orientation.” She gestured toward the doors. “Ready?” “Yes.” She guided me to the lobby with marbled floors, vaulted ceilings, and a reception desk that curved at the corner.

Everything was pristine and polished. Jenna walked fast, her sneakers squeaking against the floor as she rattled off information I should have been absorbing. Badge office on the second floor. Locker assignments in the basement. Cafeteria open until midnight, though the food quality dropped significantly after eight. I nodded at appropriate intervals, letting the words sink while my mind circled to one fact I’d been avoiding since accepting this position.

Cassian worked here. My ex-husband. The man I’d built a life with and then watched it crumble since neither of us knew how to compromise when our dreams were involved.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• Unique ID: 1dd60e620f81308c
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,293,943 bytes (2.188 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 176
• Language: English (en)

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• Total Words: 52,022
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