Chasing a Legend

by Sarah Robinson

  It’d been so long since she had let these thoughts and memories resurface. The way he’d looked at her moments ago—pain and desire mixed together in an intoxicating elixir…it had unnerved her.

  Things had definitely changed from the last time she saw him undressed six years ago. Heat flamed in her core as images of his naked body moments ago flooded her mind—tight abs, thick biceps, and a chest that looked hard and soft at the same time. The tattoos were new—at least since she’d last seen him naked—and she had to admit, despite her good-girl persona, she most definitely approved.

  She wasn’t going to think about what else she’d seen while he was naked.

  Except she didn’t remember that part of his body being so big before.

  Or so hard.

  Or…Stop thinking about this, Kiera! She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the fluttering in her belly. This wasn’t what she wanted. She was a therapist. His therapist.

  Instead, she focused on what else she’d seen on his naked body—scars. Her lungs had emptied at the sight of such a strong pillar of a man marred by the scars across his legs, back, shoulders…everywhere.

  The medical professional part of her kicked into gear, and she grabbed his chart out of the file cabinet, walking back over to the exam area. Flipping through it, she tried to push away her thoughts and do her job. She needed to know his history and focus on what they were going to do to help him get stronger again.

  But as she read, every sentence in his chart made her heart ache more and more.

  Kiera paused midstep as she read the exact description of Quinn’s injuries, and the motorcycle accident that had caused them. Her heart clenched, and she wanted to run back in there and throw her arms around his neck and apologize for not being there.

  The next page was an insurance report, and with it, grisly pictures.

  His bike. Destroyed.

  Him in the emergency room. Battered and bloody.

  Surgery. Pins in his leg. Grafts on his back. Broken bones. She’d been in the physical therapy program for two years so she’d seen graphic injuries before, but this wasn’t just graphic, it was personal.

  This was her Quinn.

  This was his blood, his pain. Her pain.

  “Ready, Keeks?”

  Her head snapped up as she realized that Quinn was standing in front of her, leaning heavily against a cane, and now fully dressed. “Oh, yeah, I was just going over your chart.”

  “Is it that bad?” he asked, one brow lifted higher than the other. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

  She shook her head quickly. “No, it’s not. Well, I mean…it is. It’s really bad, Quinn. It was really bad.” She closed the chart and held it against her chest, turning to him as she frowned. “I’m really sorry this happened to you, Q. I’m also really sorry you went through all of this, and that I wasn’t there to help.”

  He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor as he moved over to a chair and sat down. “It’s all right, Kiera. I wouldn’t have expected you to be there.”

  Ouch, she thought, even though she couldn’t blame him one bit for thinking that.

  “Well, either way,” she said, dropping the chart down on the counter with a soft plop. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” He nodded toward the exam table. “So, what’s the deal for today? Need me up on that?”

  “Nope, you’re fine where you are,” she said, clearing her throat and pushing her shoulders back. Therapist mode didn’t involve butterflies in her stomach or sadness in her heart. She was here to do a job, and she was going to girl-boss it like a pro. “I’m going to ask you to stand back up and lead you through a short series of stretches and exercises so we can get a baseline for where you’re at, and where we need to get you.”

  He nodded, dark piercing eyes, almost black, staring back at her. “I’m all yours, Doc.”

  Girl boss, girl boss, girl boss, Kiera reminded herself as she tried to ignore the way he was looking at her when he’d said that.

  Over the next few minutes, she helped him maneuver this way and that, testing his limits and pushing his boundaries ever so slightly. He wasn’t in as bad a shape as she’d initially feared, probably because of how fit he’d been before the accident. Months of very little movement had certainly atrophied some of his muscles, but it wouldn’t take too long for him to get back to a normal level of movement, even if that was still less than what he’d been used to.

  “You really think so?” he asked after she relayed that information to him. “That’s what I’ve been hoping for.”

  “I do. I think the cane will still be a necessity for a while, several months at minimum, but I think you’ll be walking normally not long after that. Running or any sort of extreme fitness—fighting—that’s going to be a while longer.”

  He shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ve never spent much time in the cage. That’s really more my older brothers’ thing.”

  “Right, but you used to work out a lot.”

  “A bit, but nothing like extreme training,” he admitted with a shrug.

  She glanced up and down his body again, because if his abs looked like that without extreme training, she hated him. “Well, let’s just take it slow. Okay?”

  “You got it, Doc.” He gave her a wicked grin, winking at her as she cleared her throat and stepped over to the counter to write out some notes from their session. “We all done here?”

  “Yep, do you have a ride home?”

  He let out a low groan. “Yeah, I do, but that reminds me—when can I drive again?”

  “Probably within a month or two,” she said, wondering who his ride was that would make him so annoyed. “Your driving leg isn’t the one with the most issues, so it shouldn’t take long unless you drive a stick. Oh, and definitely no motorcycles.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said, a hesitant quality in his voice. Was it fear? She’d never heard that from him before. “I doubt I’ll ever get on one of those things again.”

  Kiera finished the last of her notes then turned to him, leaning back against the counter. “You love motorcycles. You’ve been riding since before you legally could.”

  “Look where that got me.” He gestured down to his leg.

  She paused for a minute, letting silence envelop them as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and rolled it back out. “Q, should we talk about earlier? In the tank? Or if not with me, maybe a professional?”

  “About what?” He looked genuinely confused, rather than guarded. “What about the tank?”

  Stepping closer, she sat in the chair next to him—the molded-plastic kind most hospitals have that are uncomfortable for everyone. Turning her knees toward him, she met his gaze again. “I don’t know if it’s my place, but you just looked so sad when I came in to get you. You looked like you’d been cry—”

  “Kiera, I’m fine,” he interrupted her. “And you’re right. It’s not your place.”

  “Quinn,” she started.

  “It hasn’t been your place for a long time, Kiera.” He pushed up with his cane until he was standing. “That was your choice, not mine.”

  Her mouth parted slightly, confusion overtaking her as she tried to decipher his words. He didn’t sound angry…he sounded hurt, but she didn’t understand why.

  “Hey, baby boy! You ready, Quinny?” Dee Kavanagh appeared in the doorway, waving wildly across the room at Quinn, her dark red hair bouncing with each move.

  Quinn groaned and started walking toward her. “Yeah. Let’s go, Ma.”

  “Oh, wait.” Dee changed her tune, looking past him. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, is that Kiera Finley? You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweet girl!”

  “Hi, Mrs. Kavanagh,” Kiera said, forcing a smile onto her face as she stood and walked over to one of her mother’s oldest friends in the neighborhood. Dee had been like an aunt to her growing up, sometimes even a second mother, and she adored the older woman. “It’s so good to see you again! How are you doing?�
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  “Can’t complain—still have my Quinny with me, despite his continued attempts to frighten me into an early grave.” She waved a hand like it was nothing, her blue eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around Kiera in a giant hug.

  This was the Dee Kavanagh Kiera knew and loved—tough, unbreakable, and completely confident everything was always going to work out for the best. The tiny woman went toe to toe with any of her five brawny sons without batting an eye. Dee’s fearlessness and confidence were two of the many reasons why Kiera revered her.

  “Well, you’re looking amazing as ever,” Kiera added, because that was true, too.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re as gracious as ever, since I know I look like my mother now—the horror.” Dee laughed and shook her head. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, honey. At least three years—let me look at you.” She clapped a hand over her heart. “Stunning. Stunning, I swear. And is that a doctor’s coat?”

  Quinn shifted his weight, repositioning himself as he stood against his cane.

  Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she took a step back and adjusted her coat—proud of her accomplishments, but a little embarrassed to be fawned over in front of Quinn. She wasn’t sure why she cared what he thought anymore, but after what he’d just said to her, she was feeling unsettled and confused. “I started my residency here for my doctorate in physical therapy. Today, actually.”

  “What?” Dee put a hand to her mouth. “Ooh, I could just kill your mother for not telling me!”

  “It’s not her fault,” Kiera said with a laugh. “The program I really wanted in Seattle didn’t pan out, so I went with my second choice at kind of the last minute.”

  “Well, for second choices, this is not half bad,” Dee assured her. “In fact, it’s phenomenal.”

  “Ma, we should probably leave her alone to get back to her job, don’t you think?” Quinn nudged his mother gently, looking between her and the door.

  Kiera frowned. “Uh, yeah, I guess my next patient will be here any minute.”

  “Next patient?” Dee glanced between them, then tossed her head back with a deep belly laugh. “Oh, this is heaven! Kiera, sweetheart, are you Quinny’s doctor?”

  “Ma!” Quinn said through gritted teeth. “Can we not with the ‘Quinny,’ please?”

  She ignored him and kept staring at Kiera for confirmation.

  Kiera nodded, tossing her hands up slightly with a small laugh. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

  “Funny, sure,” Dee said, her voice calmer, but a huge grin still plastered across her face. “And maybe some fate.”

  “Ma, my leg is starting to hurt,” Quinn said.

  Kiera knew he was lying just from the expression on his face. When they were kids, he’d always looked slightly up and to the right when he lied. She’d never told him she knew his tell, but he’d never used it with her before. Either he was really in a rush to get home or he wanted to get away from her that badly. Neither option left her feeling great.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, baby boy. Let’s get you home,” Dee said, ushering him toward the door before calling back to Kiera over her shoulder. “It was good to see you, Kiera!”

  “You, too,” she replied, waiting for the door to close behind them before she sat back down and tried to process everything that had just happened.

  Her best friend of fifteen years, and yet they felt like strangers. They felt like doctor-patient. They didn’t feel like…them. She missed their friendship, who they used to be together; but for reasons she didn’t understand, he was keeping a wall between them. The few times they’d run into each other over the years at family events, she’d respected the boundary and moved on, not giving it—or him—another thought.

  But now? He was injured, she was his doctor, and, well…she was giving him some thought. A lot of it, actually.

  It’s not your place. That was your choice, not mine.

  That’s not how she remembered it.

  Chapter 3

  Quinn stared up at the dark ceiling above him. Nothing like the flotation tank from earlier; his pain was front and center as he lay in his bed, covers pulled tight over his chest. He’d been lying here for hours, and not a single second of sleep had grabbed him.

  Lifting his arm, he looked down at the first tattoo he’d ever gotten, when he was twenty-one. It was a series of flames wrapping around his entire biceps. It started small and dark—an intensity even in its new kindling. As it flickered and moved, it grew in both size and brightness until it disappeared under his arm.

  Kane had teased him relentlessly for it when he’d realized what it meant when Quin had gotten it the morning after his first night with Kiera. Everyone had seemed to know before he did that Kiera was everything to him, but even when he had finally figured it out, he had waited. She was three years younger than him, and hell, he hadn’t even meant for anything to happen that night—she’d been eighteen for only less than a day.

  But she’d wanted him. She’d told him that, showed him that, and his heart had felt fuller than he’d ever thought possible.

  The girl he’d loved his whole life…loved him back.

  Quinn’s mind flashed to the tangle of sheets—her soft, supple eighteen-year-old body beneath him as his lips explored every inch of her. Her strawberry-blond hair splayed across the pillow, and then sliding between his fingers. The way her back had bowed off the bed when his hand slid over her core, or how she clung to his biceps and her light blue eyes told him she trusted him, she loved him. She’d begged him on as he entered her for the first time—her first time—and it was the biggest gift she could have ever given him.

  When he’d met resistance, he’d stopped, afraid to hurt her. “Kiera, should I stop?”

  “Please, Quinn, I want this.” The words left her lips in a slow sigh. “I want you. I want you to have this part of me forever.”

  Torment churned through Quinn at the idea of causing the girl he loved pain, but his heart was splayed open and pulverized. He wanted this part of her, and he wanted to give her every piece of himself along with it.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “I love you, Keeks.”

  Her moans muffled it, but he heard her. He knew he heard her. “I love you, too, Q,” she’d said.

  When the pain had passed, he made sure the rest of the night was entirely about her pleasure. By the time he’d scrambled out her bedroom window before her mother woke up, her face was a sleepy smile and his heart was forever tied to hers.

  Quinn swallowed hard as he turned on his side, pulling the covers over his shoulder. The memories didn’t stop, not of their night together or the next day.

  “You’re young, Quinn—you just turned twenty-one,” Kane said. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Do you really want this girl to be it? To be forever? Because Kiera isn’t just some chick. Our mothers are best friends—we grew up with Kiera. You go down this road, and you better be prepared for the long haul.”

  He and Kane had been sitting on their parents’ couch, waiting for Rory to get home so they could head out to the pub together to celebrate Rory’s latest endorsement deal at the height of his career.

  “I haven’t decided anything,” Quinn had sworn, crossing his arms over his chest, the bandage covering the fresh ink on his forearm clearly on display.

  Kane nodded his head toward it. “Since when do you get tattoos?”

  Quinn glanced down. “Today, actually. I’m twenty-one, so why not?”

  Kane looked at him, his eyes squinty and surveying. “Is this about last night? About Kiera? This is your version of a notch on a bedpost?”

  “No!” Heat seeped into Quinn’s face, and he pulled his sleeve down to cover the bandage. “I’ve just always wanted one, maybe more. That’s all.”

  “Shit, Q. What the hell are you doing going out with us?” Kane asked, not buying his reasoning. “If you like this girl enough to brand her memory on your skin, get the fuck over to her house and tell her that.”


  “But Rory’s celebration—”

  Kane stood and pointed toward the front door. “Go get the girl you’ve been chasing for years, Q. Tell her everything, tell her what last night meant to you—tell her you love her.”

  “I don’t—” Quinn paused. He glanced back up at his brother as he stepped toward the door. “I mean, I love her, but I’m not in love with her. Am I?”

  Kane had nodded like it was obvious. “You are. Now go tell her that.”

  He’d gone to find her, flowers in one hand, and a small gift he’d made himself in the other. Her mother answered the door, pity in her eyes as she told him Kiera had already left for Seattle a few hours ago.

  She hadn’t even left a note, a phone call, a text. Nothing. She had gotten what she wanted from him and moved on with her life the very next morning. He’d been left with nothing—his heart still held captive in her hands.

  Kiera was his forever—she always had been. He just hadn’t been hers.

  Quinn closed his eyes and willed sleep to come. Willed silence and darkness and nothingness to overtake the pain he felt just at the memories.

  Seeing her today…it made everything fresh, new, now more devastating.

  She was as gorgeous as he remembered, more so, since she had lost her childish lilt and grown tall and strong—a woman he admired. But the way she’d looked at him as if she was seeing an old friend, the way she still refused to cuss, or the way she rambled nervously…it was like nothing had changed.

  It was like she was his Keeks again.

  Closing his eyes tighter, Quinn pushed all thoughts of the gorgeous strawberry blonde out of his mind. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, dwell on her a moment longer. That door was closed. She’d closed it. He needed it closed, because he couldn’t survive if he pried it back open only for her to slam it shut again.

  They were over. Every part of it. The friendship. The night of passion. Any possibility of a future together. Done. The walk down memory lane had been surprising, and even nice, but this was part of his past. She was his past, and she had been for a while.