Reunited with Her Secret Prince
Page 17
He’d always just been her friend Milo and working together at St. Brigit’s was a first for them. She’d enjoyed every minute of it, even if she was in a constant battle to get her body to stop substituting friendly feelings with romantic ones.
“My neighborhood was placed under mandatory evac.” She ignored the shake in her hand as she lifted the coffee cup to her lips again. One of the packed boxes was filled with pictures of her and Milo, his sister, and his mother. Diana Russell had never made Quinn feel unwelcome—despite being a single mom and a hardworking physician—unlike Quinn’s own family. If that box of memories was lost... Quinn mentally kicked herself. She was not going to travel that well-worn path again this morning.
“Do you need to leave?” Milo leaned forward and the soft scent of his cedar shampoo blended with the smell of her coffee.
What was wrong with her? Before she’d returned to California, she couldn’t have told anyone anything about Milo’s shampoo. Though she could have told them that the scrunch of his nose meant he was concerned. And that a twitch in his left cheek meant he was holding in a laugh, but a twitch in his right cheek meant he was angry.
Maybe the lines between friends and more had blurred long ago...
They’d spent almost all their free time together since she’d arrived, enjoying the opportunity to be together in person rather than on the screen. He’d helped paint her bungalow, and they’d watched silly romantic comedies while sharing giant bowls of popcorn. But he’d never mentioned wanting more.
And Milo always knew what he wanted.
Focus!
Shaking her head, Quinn shrugged. “Molly’s in labor. You know her history.” Molly had struggled with infertility, and she and her partner had had more than their share of losses over the past five years. After so many disappointments, they’d adopted a son a few years ago—a gorgeous little boy they were both devoted to—and had been stunned when she had conceived naturally.
“I think Molly would understand.” Milo gripped her fingers.
The simple gesture made Quinn’s heart rate pick up, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t have the strength to put distance between them today—even if she wanted to. Glancing out the window, she shuddered. “If I left right now, I wouldn’t make it home before the roads closed. I’m just mad I didn’t throw stuff in the car before I left last night.”
She forced her gaze away from the orange glow creeping along the hills. Her home was really in danger. The place she’d felt called to might vanish.
“Why not?” Milo’s lips formed a soft smile that any other day would have sent her belly tumbling with need. “The reports coming in—” He caught his final words.
She knew all about the reports. Knew that if it had been Milo’s home, he’d have already prepared a five-page emergency plan. Heck, he probably had one anyway.
Her chest constricted. Plans provided safety and security. But they could be weaponized, too.
Used to control.
Her hair, her room, her clothes, her activities had all been controlled—micromanaged. Her mother had kept a weekly calendar on the fridge. It was adjusted every Sunday morning—but only with activities deemed important to her parents. And deviation was not allowed.
Quinn had learned to hide her true self. To build walls to protect that precious self. The world hurt less if she kept the well-constructed barriers in place.
She’d done what had been expected of her. It hadn’t mattered that her toes screamed through another ballet practice. It hadn’t mattered that she’d absorbed the cutting remarks with a smile and the criticisms without argument. Walls hadn’t provided happiness, but they had kept her safe. Besides, a false smile achieved more than tears.
She’d been the docile daughter until she’d refused to let her parents control her career choices. That one rebellion had led to her being cut out of their lives—all because she’d wanted some say about her future.
But that one mutinous act had granted her freedom. The right to pick up and move to where she chose. To cut her hair. To dress how she wanted. To never have a planner!
And when she had her own family, they were never going to feel like their life was scheduled. Her children, if she ever settled anywhere long enough to meet someone and have children, were going to know her love didn’t depend on following a plan.
“I figured I had at least another day or two.” Her throat closed as she fought off tears. She never cried in front of anyone—and she wasn’t going to start today. Plus, denial was easier than focusing on disaster. But Milo wouldn’t understand that. He was always at least three steps ahead of everything.
It was too late to do anything about it now, though. “I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “You know me. If necessary, I’ll find a new place.” The thought of moving again made her heart sink. That was new...and not welcome.
Leaning forward, Quinn squeezed his hand.
Why was she always reaching for him?
“Maybe somewhere that gets snow,” she quipped, pulling back, “where the summers don’t make me worry about melting into the pavement.”
Milo’s lips turned down. He’d never liked her talking about new places. He’d cheered when she’d announced that she wasn’t going to work in her parents’ law firm, but then he’d frowned when she’d said she was leaving California. He always frowned when she mentioned moving. She wasn’t even sure he was aware he did it.
Though he hadn’t frowned when she’d told him she was coming home to join him at St. Brigit’s. The memory of his bright smile on that last video call still sent thrills through her.
She hated his frown—hated causing it. Her fingers itched to smooth away the small lines at the corners of his eyes. “Want to see if there’s a clinic in Alaska that needs a midwife and stellar ob-gyn? We could buy some snowmobiles and race around the Arctic.”
His mouth moved but no words came out. Quinn could feel the heat in her cheeks as Milo’s gaze met hers. She hadn’t meant to ask that and certainly hadn’t expected how his stunned silence would cut across her.
“Quinn...” The question she should never have asked him hung between them as his voice died.
Concern coated Milo’s features and she feared pity. That was the last thing she needed or wanted.
Especially from him.
“I’m kidding, homebody.” She laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced to him as it did to her. Maybe Milo would chalk it up to her fear and exhaustion. “I know I’ll never get you out of LA. One day you’re going to run the maternity ward at Valley General. I’ve seen the planning boards.” She patted his hand.
Milo carefully managed his life. He never jumped from one contract to another. The man developed a plan. And he followed it.
No chasing a shiny, unexpected adventure.
“Enough about me.” Standing, she downed the rest of her coffee. “What we should be worrying about is if those winds shift and we have to evacuate the birthing center.”
“Quinn...” Milo stood and pulled her into a quick hug.
The heat from the brief connection evaporated before Quinn could blink. But the ghost of his strong arms clung to her. She wanted to step back into the embrace. She wanted to run from the room. But her feet refused to follow either order.
“It’s okay to be worried about both the center and your house. I know what that tiny, falling-apart bungalow means to you.”
Crossing her arms at her chest, she glared at him. “No knocking the bungalow, Dr. Russell. We can’t all live in a fancy downtown high-rise.” It was her normal retort, but her tone was sharper today. The pain of not having a home, a family, a place to belong to, stabbed her. And somehow she’d lost the ability to bury that emotion behind her walls.
“I’m sorry,” Milo muttered. “That was beyond a poor choice of words.” A dimple appeared in his left cheek as he stepped up to her.
And she wouldn’t risk that.
Quinn’s parents hadn’t wanted her. She and her brother, Asher, hadn’t talked in years. Even her ex-fiancé had found her lacking less than a month after getting down on one knee. If her relationship with Milo changed, would his need to plan everything out clash with her desire to go with her gut?
Their different approach to life worked while they were friends. But if she lost him, Quinn would be completely alone. And she couldn’t stand the thought of losing the one person she’d always been able to count on.
She just couldn’t.
Putting a bit of distance between them, she held up her empty coffee cup. “Thanks for the caffeine rush.” Ignoring the flash of hurt that crossed Milo’s features, Quinn moved for the door. He clearly didn’t understand why she was being awkward, and there was no safe way for her to say My heart’s confused—sorry.
Swallowing a pinch of panic, Quinn dropped her coffee cup into the recycle bin. As it hit the bottom, she looked over her shoulder. “I need to check on Molly.”
Whatever was going on with her when she was near Milo needed to stop. They were just friends. Best friends. They’d stuck together through their awkward teen phases, all their different jobs, her failed engagement and the end of his short-lived marriage. No one knew her better. No one made her feel more grounded.
More cared for...
Her chest seized. Quinn was just lonely, longing for a place of her own. Her heart was confused. It was reaching for the comfortable. That was all.
* * *
Milo’s arms were heavy as the light scent he associated with Quinn lingered in the air around him as he stared after her. She was hurting and needed a friend. Why had something that had always been so easy become such a challenge once she’d started working with him at St. Brigit’s?
What if she noticed how his embraces lingered a bit too long? How he had to fight to keep from leaning his head against hers? That he longed to be near her?
It had taken over a decade for them to land in the same place at the same time. But the excitement he’d felt when she’d stepped into his arms at LAX eight months ago hadn’t been grounded in friendship. He’d wanted Quinn Davis for years. He wasn’t sure when the friendship they’d shared had transformed for him, but it was there in every bright smile and subtle touch. Yet she’d never indicated she wanted more. And losing her friendship wasn’t an option.
He’d worked up the courage to ask her out once, years ago. But when he’d arrived with flowers, she’d been dancing with her roommate, screaming about signing her first contract with the traveling nurse agency. She’d looked so beautiful and happy. Milo had claimed “best friend telepathy” as he’d passed her the sunflowers and congratulated her on the new job.
Then he’d locked the question he’d wanted to ask deep in his heart. She had talked about putting space between her and California since elementary school. And he’d been determined to never throw a wrench into those plans. Dreams and goals were important—his father had taught him that.
Milo wanted Quinn to be happy. Wanted her to get every stamp in her passport, no matter how much he hated the distance between them...
He swallowed the desire that was his constant companion. Now wasn’t the right time to ask Quinn out.
And it wasn’t ever going to be right.
St. Brigit’s was just a stopover for Quinn. He knew that. Every time he sat on her lumpy, rented couch, it was a reminder that this was a landing zone after a decade on the road. And he knew the road would eventually call to her again—it always did.
It didn’t call to Milo, though. He loved California and never considered relocating. His mom and his sister were in California, as were all his goals.
Still, every so often, Milo would catch a look in Quinn’s eyes or a touch of a smile that made him wonder if she’d also considered exploring the possibility that there might be more between them. His brain screamed that he was imagining it, but he couldn’t kill the pang of hope his heart felt each time. Last week, their hands had brushed as they’d walked to the movie theater and she’d smiled at him in a way that had Milo barely managing to prevent the words from flying out of his mouth.
These thoughts, the bloom of heat in his belly when she was near, the dreams he woke from, still feeling as though he was holding her close—he’d always been able to suppress them. But now, working with her every day, the thought that she might complete him—might patch the empty space in his soul—was growing ever stronger.
But that void had existed long before he’d met Quinn. It had been ripped open the night his father hadn’t come home from the store with the supplies for his science project. His mom had done her best, but Milo had been so lonely.
The comfortable conversations he’d had with his dad hadn’t been the same with his mom. He’d missed the feel of their complete family. The hole his father’s passing had created still ate at him and he clung to his few memories and the emotions they stirred in him.
But if his short-lived marriage had taught him anything, it was that another person couldn’t fill the void of his father’s loss. That was far too much to ask. And that disaster had proved that impulsive acts just caused chaos.
And heartbreak.
Milo had always been impressed with Quinn’s ability to start over. To pick up and leave the past behind when a new opportunity presented itself. She saw a new thing and ran toward it, confident that the details would sort themselves out. He let his eyes wander to the fire on the hills in the distance and sighed. But if she’d planned better, packed her car when the fire blazed closer last night... He let the thought float away.
As a kid, he’d left everything until the last minute, especially school projects. The week before he died, his dad had bought him two small whiteboards. He’d written Short Term on one and Long Term on the other—just like the headings on the boards his dad kept in his office. Then he’d explained that he wanted Milo to at least plan a few things out.
But Milo hadn’t. And the night before his science presentation was due, he’d panicked because they didn’t have the supplies he needed. His father had marched him upstairs and taken the money for the supplies from Milo’s piggy bank, telling him he would have to do what he could but he was not to stay up past his bedtime.
While Milo had started the research, his father had gone out for supplies. A drunk driver had collided with him as he’d left the grocery store. Poster boards for Milo and flowers for his mother had been found in the car and dutifully delivered by a policeman days later.
Milo, suddenly lost, had been a mere shadow of himself. Adrift in a world where the man who’d made him feel tall, important, special, had vanished. In the grief-filled days that followed, he’d finally started using the planning boards his father had given him. The routine they’d provided had eased his pain. It never entirely vanished, but he found that rigidly structuring life left him open to fewer surprises. It gave him a bit of control in the chaotic world.
Milo was never going to be that person who had no idea what the next six months would hold. Where Quinn needed freedom, he required control. She wasn’t going to stay in California, and the goals that would make him whole were set in stone.
And he was so close.
Milo made his way over to the window. Smoke had descended over LA a week ago, but the light of the fires had stayed away until now. A bead of worry moved through him as he stared at the glow just beyond the horizon. Wildfires were an all too constant threat in California and he’d experienced life with voluntary evacuation notices a few times. But he had never received a manda
tory evacuation notice.
Would Quinn’s house survive? He hoped so. He remembered questioning her decision to rent the rundown property when he’d helped her move her limited belongings inside almost a year ago. She’d just smiled and said she’d loved the place.
They’d spent weekends painting the gray walls of her bedroom a bright blue and her kitchen walls the color of the shining sun. If coffee didn’t wake her up, the sunflower color would. Milo hadn’t teased her that bright colors were out of fashion—at least according to his interior designer sister—because Quinn deserved to have walls whatever color her heart desired. He’d never understood her mother’s refusal to allow Quinn to paint her childhood room, even when Quinn had offered to pay for all the supplies. But there was a lot about the Davis family that Milo hadn’t understood.
The only problem Milo had with her bungalow was its distance from his place. It was forty minutes away from St. Brigit’s on a good traffic day.
Forty minutes away from him...
Maybe it had been ridiculous to think she’d want to be neighbors. But he’d looked for places near him as soon as Quinn had told him she’d accepted the position at St. Brigit’s. He’d plotted the best areas and done a ton of research for her. She’d signed her lease on the bungalow without ever looking at any of it. He knew she’d always trusted her gut over research, but had thought she’d want to be closer for the short time she was going to be in LA. It had hit him surprisingly hard when she’d chosen somewhere so far from him.
She’d signed a two-year lease on the two-bedroom bungalow. He should have rejoiced. But then she’d rented all her furniture. And his small piece of hope that she’d stay had died. He’d counted on having two years. But now, if the bungalow burned, would she leave again?
Even with her lease, Milo had started looking for hints that she might run off on another adventure. The nursing agency still sent her job advertisements, and he was aware that she talked to her clinic colleagues about the travel opportunities when they arose. Her excitement was contagious, and he knew at least one nurse from St. Brigit’s had put in an application.