by Marie Force
“Let’s go,” she said to Blaine, desperately wanting to avoid an altercation between her current and former husbands. Judging by the tightness in Blaine’s muscles, it wouldn’t take much to provoke him. She gave his arm a tug to get him moving in the right direction but didn’t breathe easy until they were in the parking lot on the way to his truck.
Blaine opened the door for her and held it until long after she was settled in her seat.
“Blaine.”
His gaze shifted to her.
“Talk to me.”
“I… When you were alone with him… All I could think about was him swinging that knife at you, and I…”
Tiffany turned in her seat and wrapped her arms around him.
He buried his face in the curve of her neck.
When she realized her strong, fearless husband was actually trembling, her eyes filled with tears that slid down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry you were scared.”
“I was afraid he’d try to hurt you, and there’d be no one in there with you.”
“I’m okay, and it’s all over now.” She ran her fingers through his hair for a long time, until the trembling finally stopped.
He raised his head off her shoulder and kissed away her tears. “Is he going to take the plea?”
“I don’t know, but I got some badly needed answers. At least I know now that what happened had nothing to do with me. He was dissatisfied with his life, if you can imagine that.”
“No, I can’t, because I get to be married to you, and I’ll never be dissatisfied a day in my life because I have you.”
“I’m so happy to be married to you. I’d go through hell all over again if it meant I got you in the end.” Holding his face in her hands, she kissed him.
He responded with the pent-up emotion that followed weeks of tension, until they were half reclined in the front seat of his truck.
Tiffany laughed at their loss of control.
Blaine leaned his forehead on hers. “I love you so fucking much. I never knew it was possible to love anyone the way I love you.”
“I love you just as much.”
Tiffany’s cell phone rang, and she saw Sam Rhodes’s name on the caller ID.
“He’s agreed to plead guilty to a misdemeanor assault charge and serve six months in jail, but he’ll retain his law license, which was critical to him.”
“Thank goodness.” She flashed a thumbs-up to Blaine. “Thank you so much for letting me know.”
“Thank you for convincing him it was the right thing to do.”
She said good-bye to Sam and hugged Blaine. “Thank God it’s over.”
“Let’s go home,” Blaine said.
“Yes, please.”
Chapter 26
Mallory arrived home shortly before five and dug her ringing cell phone out of her purse. She didn’t recognize the local number but still took the call.
“Hey, Mallory, it’s Sydney Harris. How are you?”
“Hi, Syd. What’s up?”
“I got your number from Janey. I wanted to let you know that Luke and I are doing a bonfire on the beach tonight if you’d like to join us.”
“I’d love to. Thanks for the invite.”
“Great. Plan on dinner, too. Luke built a grill on the beach this spring, and he’s been dying to use it.”
“That sounds great. What can I bring?”
“Not a thing other than a friend, if you wish to.”
Mallory laughed. “Is that a subtle attempt to get me to admit to dating someone?”
“I might have heard a rumor. Or two.”
“I’ll see if he’s available to join us.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you both.”
“Thanks again, Syd.”
Mallory ended the call, feeling excited to see Quinn, to tell him her news, to invite him to come tonight and to be her plus one at the Dan and Kara’s wedding. Kara had told her it was casual and to bring someone if she wanted to.
Her talk with Kevin had really helped to clarify things, and she was ready to dive in headfirst with Quinn as well as her new life on Gansett. She took a shower, dried her hair and changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but grabbed a sweater that she knew she’d need when the sun went down. Even in early June, the nights on Gansett were still chilly.
As she waited for Quinn, it occurred to her that she’d like to have a glass of wine. There were times, such as this, when she was in a happy mood and looking forward to socializing with friends and family, that she wished she could have an occasional glass of wine. If only it were that simple. But she’d learned her issues with alcohol were anything but simple and that it was in her best interest to refrain from drinking.
She told herself she had so many things in her life to be thankful for these days that she didn’t need the comfort she’d once taken from overindulging. Now she could find comfort in the new relationships she was forging with her family members as well as Quinn, and the new friends she was making on the island.
However, all the positive thoughts in the world didn’t quench her desire for that glass of wine. The decision not to drink, not to give in to the almighty temptation, was a daily decision she made for herself. And like most days over the last decade, today she chose her sobriety over the temptation.
She checked the time and saw it was nearly six, which was late for Quinn to get home, so she sent him a text:
On the way home?
As soon as she sent it, she worried that maybe she sounded too much like a wife rather than a girlfriend or whatever she was to him.
Mallory kept an eye on her phone for a few minutes, but he didn’t reply. She fed Brutus and let him out into the yard.
An hour later, she’d begun to worry that something had happened to him, so she called him.
No answer.
What if something had happened at work and no one was there to help him? Her stomach began to ache as a host of unsettling scenarios occurred to her.
A couple of days ago, Jared had texted both of them to invite them to dinner. Mallory hadn’t asked how he’d gotten her number. She assumed Quinn had given it to his brother. Now that she needed it, she was happy to have Jared’s number.
He answered on the second ring.
“Jared, hi, it’s Mallory. I’m just wondering if you’ve spoken to Quinn.”
“Not since this morning. Is everything okay?”
“I’m sure it is, but he’s usually back to my house by now, and I can’t reach him. I thought he might be with you.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Maybe I should go to his office…”
“I’ll do it. It’s dark as hell and deserted this time of day. I wouldn’t want you out there by yourself.”
“I hate to bother you.”
“It’s no bother. I’ll call you in a few.”
“Thanks, Jared.”
Mallory took the phone with her to the sofa, where she sat to wait. Brutus curled up next to her, his head on her leg so she could scratch behind his ears. With every passing minute that went by with no word from Quinn, her anxiety quadrupled.
*
Darkness surrounded him. Where the hell was he? And why did his head hurt like a motherfucker?
Quinn reached up to touch the area on his forehead that radiated pain and encountered wetness. “Shit.” He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it when his head spun and nausea burned his throat. “Ugh.”
Then he realized his bad leg was at an awkward angle and the prosthetic had been wrenched—again.
He groaned. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The memories came rushing back to him. He’d been about to leave the office when he heard an odd noise coming from the basement. The last thing he remembered was reaching to turn on the light. Had he fallen down the stairs? How long had he been there? And where was his phone?
A quick inspection of his pockets yielded nothing. And then he heard it ringing and saw it light up about ten feet from him.
Mallory. Crap, she was probably wonde
ring where he was and worried about him as she tried to find him. Damn it.
Forcing himself into a sitting position, he brushed away the blood on his face and fought through an urgent need to puke. He had to get to his phone, even if he had to crawl to it.
Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths to fight back the nausea and inched himself forward, hissing from the pain that came from his head and leg. Just when he’d been on his way back to what now counted for normal, this had to happen. A feeling of despair swept over him, reminding him of the awful days after he’d first lost his leg.
Quinn moved slowly and painfully, his head swimming and his leg throbbing. He was about halfway to the phone when he heard Jared shout for him from upstairs.
“Down here,” he said, relieved to have help.
“Quinn!”
“Basement,” he called.
“What the… Oh my God!”
A sudden flood of light had Quinn closing his eyes tight against the pain.
Jared came pounding down the stairs. “Jesus, Quinn. You’re bleeding like crazy. Are you okay? What happened? Oh shit! Your leg.”
“Shhh, not so loud.”
“Crap. You’re hurt bad.” Jared withdrew his phone from his pocket and called for the rescue.
Quinn was in too much pain to object.
“What were you doing?”
“I heard a noise coming from down here and decided to investigate. That’s the last thing I remember before I woke up down here.”
“Mallory’s worried. I’m going to tell her to meet us at the clinic.”
Mallory. Quinn sighed. She deserved better than this, better than him. She’d spent her entire adult life taking care of people. She needed someone who could take care of her, not a broken-down wreck of a man who needed constant care from her. The thought of not seeing her gorgeous face every day crushed him, but he needed to be fair to her.
Jared encouraged Quinn to lean against him while they waited. “How did this happen?”
“Not sure. I reached for the lights and came to down here. Must’ve made a wrong move somewhere.”
“You could’ve been killed.”
“That might’ve been better than dealing with this shit.”
“Shut the fuck up. That wouldn’t have been better. It was an accident. Could’ve happened to anyone.”
Jared was trying to make him feel better, but what he said wasn’t true. It wouldn’t have happened to someone with two good legs who could instinctively tell that the next step was going to be a bad one.
Quinn didn’t have the energy or the fortitude to argue the point.
“Should I check this noise you heard?” Jared asked.
“I don’t hear it now.”
“I’ll check it out in the morning.”
Paramedics arrived a few minutes later, along with Mason Johns, the fire chief. He was the kind of guy Mallory should be with—big, strong, commanding and in possession of all his limbs.
“What’re we looking at here?” Mason asked him.
He appreciated Mason’s acknowledgment that Quinn already knew what was wrong. “Probably a severe concussion in addition to the laceration on my forehead, and I wrenched my leg.”
Mason glanced toward his leg, and Quinn saw the realization register with him.
“You’re an amputee.”
“I am.”
Mason directed his team to carefully carry Quinn up the stairs, where they had a stretcher waiting.
Jared followed them, carrying the prosthetic that Quinn had removed.
Quinn wanted to grab the thing out of his brother’s hands and fling it across the room. He vibrated with rage and despair. Every step forward led to two steps backward. Just when he thought things were moving in the right direction—new job, new home, new lady—he was served a heaping dose of reality, reminding him once again of what’d been lost.
“I’m going to follow so I have my car,” Jared said as they loaded Quinn into the ambulance. Quinn raised a hand to let his brother know he’d heard him.
At least he could be thankful for the small favor that Mallory was off duty when her coworkers had to rescue him.
*
Mallory rushed into the clinic and ran toward Katie Lawry, the first person she saw. Jared had told her only that Quinn had gotten hurt at work and was being transported to the clinic. “Katie, I’m looking for Quinn James. The rescue brought him in?”
“Right this way, Mallory.” Katie led her to a cubicle, where Quinn was in bed and Jared stood by his side.
The sight of Quinn’s bloodstained face and the evil cut on his forehead stopped her short. “Oh my God! What happened?”
“Wrong move on the basement steps,” Quinn said.
“Did you fall down them?”
“Yep.”
“Oh no. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Just the usual place.”
“No…” Her heart broke for him. Right when he’d been back on his leg again. “What’re they doing for you?”
“They called in David Lawrence,” Jared said. “He’s on his way.”
Mallory took hold of Quinn’s hand and had to hide her surprise when he pulled free and crossed his arms, his face set in a mulish expression she’d never seen before.
She glanced at Jared and noted he seemed as concerned as she felt. Something else had happened to Quinn at the bottom of those stairs, something far beyond his physical injuries.
Katie began to clean the cut on Quinn’s head while they waited for David, who arrived a short time later and quickly assessed Quinn’s injuries. “I’d like to get a scan of your head, just to make sure.”
“I can already tell you it’s a concussion,” Quinn said.
“You know as well as I do that you can’t tell me if you’re bleeding on the inside, and we need to rule that out.” To Mallory and Katie, he said, “I’ve heard it said that doctors make the worst patients.”
“No comment,” Katie said, smiling.
Mallory forced a small smile, but she couldn’t work up anything more than that when Quinn was going out of his way to distance himself from her.
“We’ll be quick,” David said. “I promise.”
They wheeled Quinn’s bed from the room, leaving Mallory alone with Jared, who looked as shell-shocked as she felt.
“He fell down the full set of stairs?” she asked in a small voice.
Jared nodded.
“God.”
“I know. He could’ve been killed.”
Mallory crossed her arms and took a deep breath to ward off the emotional firestorm she felt brewing. This felt all too familiar, bringing back memories of the day her young husband had died so suddenly. That the same thing could’ve happened to Quinn and right when she’d decided she wanted everything with him…
Jared startled her when he put his arm around her. “He’s fine. Pissed off and banged up. But fine.”
Lizzie came rushing into the room, looking undone and frazzled. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
Jared held out his hand to her, and she came over to him. “He fell down the basement stairs at the building. They think he has a concussion, and they’re scanning him to make sure that’s all it is. He’s banged up but okay.”
She sagged against her husband. “Thank God you called Jared, Mallory. Who knows how long he would’ve been there otherwise.”
The thought of him alone and injured in the basement of that dark building made Mallory shudder. They waited in uneasy silence until Katie wheeled Quinn back into the room.
“David will be in shortly,” she said. “Can I get you anything, Quinn?”
“Some ice water would be good.”
“Coming right up.”
Mallory immediately noticed that Quinn had bled through the gauze Katie had placed on his forehead. Acting on instinct, she went to the sink to wash her hands, pulled on gloves and, making use of the supplies Katie had left on a nearby tray, got busy replacing the dressing. At first, Quinn leaned away from
her, but she didn’t let up. If he thought he was going to push her away now, he was about to find out that she wasn’t easily pushed.
“Hold still,” she said sternly.
Katie returned with the water. “Oh, thanks, Mallory. It helps to have an extra set of qualified hands around here.”
“Try telling that to my patient,” Mallory said.
“I’m not your patient,” Quinn said in a testy tone that again took her by surprise.
“All yours, Katie,” Mallory said. She removed the gloves and trashed them on her way out of the room. Clearly, he didn’t want her there, so she’d wait until the time was right to ask him what the hell was going on. She wasn’t about to do that with an audience.
She sank into a chair in the waiting room and put her head back against the wall.
“He’s upset that he got hurt again,” Lizzie said when she joined her. “That’s all it is.”
“If you say so. Feels like more than that to me.”
Lizzie sat next to her. “I don’t know him very well. You probably know him better than I do, but the one thing I know for sure about him is that he’s fiercely independent, and relying on others doesn’t come easily to him.”
“I think I might love him.”
Lizzie gasped. “Really?”
Mallory nodded. “I haven’t felt this way for anyone since I lost my husband thirteen years ago.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I think,” Lizzie said tentatively, “he might love you, too, and he doesn’t want you to have to deal with his… limitations.”
“When I look at him, I don’t see limitations. I see resilience and determination and perseverance.”
“At some point, possibly very soon, you might have to tell him that.”
Mallory looked over at Lizzie, offering a small smile. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Don’t invite him to your house when they release him.”
Lizzie returned her smile. “He is so not welcome at my house.”
Chapter 27
Two hours later, after five stitches to close the head wound and declaring the scans to be clear, David released Quinn with instructions to take it easy for the next couple of days.
