Safe in His Hands

by Amy Ruttan

  Charlotte couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m fine.”

  “I think I like this sledding business.” He grinned down at her, his dark eyes twinkling. “You’ve popped my cherry twice since I’ve been here.”

  Heat spread through her like wildfire, while her body zinged with arousal. His body was heavy, pressed against hers, but it was the kind of weight she was longing for. If only all these layers of clothing weren’t separating them. If only they were in her bed, naked.

  She sobered instantly when she realized Quinn was still lying on top of her, in front of her clinic, in front of the village children. She could hear them laughing.

  “Hey, you’re too heavy. Get off me, already!”

  Quinn shifted and rolled over. She scrambled to her feet and brushed the snow from her. “I’d better go change. I’m not wearing any snow pants and my jeans will be soaked in a few minutes.”

  She spun round and ran for the clinic, not looking back. She’d forgotten for a moment that he was not her fiancé. He wasn’t anything to her anymore. Just a colleague, up here for a consult.

  * * *

  Quinn retrieved his camera from Jenny and bid his new fan club farewell. The sun would be setting soon and the kids had to head for home. Besides, his hand was numb from the cold, but, like he’d told Charlotte, he hadn’t been able to resist the photographic opportunity.

  When he was back in his bedroom he scrolled through the pictures and saw one of him and Charlotte, racing down the hill. It seemed that Jenny was a bit of a photo aficionado, as well. He didn’t mind in the least. It was something to remember that moment by.

  He thought Charlotte’s cold reserve was melting a bit. She was playful and laughing again, but when they had been lying in the snow, something had clicked. He’d seen it in her eyes and her barriers had gone up again. He turned off the camera and set it down.

  A zing of pins and needles shot up his arm. Quinn stared down at his scarred hand and flexed it. It wasn’t as stiff as it had been. His hand had been steady and sure when he’d made the episiotomy. He’d seen the look on Charlotte’s face when she’d helped him put the gloves on, the moment of uncertainty. He wasn’t a fool. Quinn knew she’d seen the scars. He wanted to tell her about the accident and reassure her there was nothing to be worried about, though his mother would beg to differ.

  Quinn scrubbed his hand over his face and picked up his hand exerciser, clenching his hand into a tight fist and then slowly allowing it to flex again.

  “You’ll never regain full use of your hand. I would suggest you open up a consultation practice or move into a general practice instead of surgery, Dr. Devlyn,” the orthopedic surgeon said.

  “I don’t accept that.”

  “Quinn, see sense. Even Dr. Szarsky thinks you won’t be able to continue to be a surgeon. When will you listen to reason?” his mother lamented. “You had such potential, too.”

  “I still have potential. I’m still a surgeon.”

  “Perhaps,” his father said. “But it’ll take about a year at the minimum to recuperate. By then you’ll have lost your professional edge.”

  “Like I lost mine having you!”

  His mother’s tone had been so hard and cold when she had uttered those words, I lost mine having you. Quinn shook those horrible memories away. His parents had never been supportive except when he’d excelled.

  Mediocrity had never been an option.

  Except with Charlotte.

  Charlotte had never judged him when he’d had a minor setback. She’d always cared for and loved him, no matter what he’d done, and had cheered him on to do better next time, without any hint of malice or remorse.

  A slow-paced life in a rural clinic or a small-town hospital was what he’d secretly craved since his accident, but he’d never admitted to it because he could’ve had that with Charlotte, and Quinn never admitted his mistakes.

  He cursed under his breath and set the hand exerciser on the nightstand. He got up and splashed some water on his face at the basin. When he glanced in the mirror he saw a thick growth of stubble and dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t slept well. Every time he’d closed his eyes, all he’d seen had been Charlotte.

  In that moment when he’d passed the baby to her it had been like their painful past and their separation had been washed away. Back then, all he’d wanted had been his parents’ approval. Once he’d achieved what they’d wanted from him, it still hadn’t been good enough, and when his father had died he’d realized it never would be.

  Just like he’d realized as soon as he’d left Charlotte that there would be no going back. He’d lost her trust.

  Yet that look they shared... That moment of connection had seemed so genuine, so real, and he’d felt like he’d never been away, that they were right back to where they’d started. Of course, he could’ve just been seeing things. Charlotte had made it pretty clear when he’d arrived that their association was going to remain purely professional.

  If he had the chance to start all over again with Charlotte, would he?

  Damn straight, he would.

  His phone chimed with the familiar sound of a text message coming through. Quinn groaned and picked his phone up from the nightstand. Only two people would be texting him. It would be either the hospital or his mother, and Quinn had a gut-wrenching feeling it wasn’t the hospital.

  As he glanced at the screen he recognized the area code of Toronto. Two words were on the screen.

  Call me.

  Quinn rolled his eyes. He knew why she was doing this. She knew where he was and she didn’t approve. Not one bit. His mother wasn’t impressed in the least that he was giving a pro bono consult, especially for a patient of Charlotte’s.

  His phone vibrated in his hand.

  What could possibly be so important you can’t call your mother to discuss an urgent matter? I bet you would’ve called if it was your father.

  Quinn rolled his eyes. His mother was laying on the guilt trip pretty thick—another aspect of his childhood he hadn’t particularly enjoyed, being the pawn between his parents. His mother had been a master of guilt. “Had” being the operative word.

  He really couldn’t care less. Instead, he called his physiotherapist. He wanted reassurance.

  “Ted Jones speaking.”

  “Hey, Ted. It’s Devlyn.”

  There was a pause. “Devlyn! How’s it up there?” Ted asked pleasantly.

  “Cold.”

  “I bet.” Ted chuckled. “How’s the hand?”

  “Stiff, sore. The usual.” Quinn scrubbed his hand over his face, preparing himself mentally for what he wanted to ask, dreading the answer. “My hand, do you think...? Will I regain full use of it?”

  * * *

  You can’t avoid him for the rest of the day.

  Charlotte groaned. Her conscience pricking her, she’d spent a most uncomfortable night on the couch in her office because of her conflicted emotions about Quinn. She was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and now her jeans were soaked.

  As much as she wanted to go and talk to Quinn about what had happened out in the snow, she couldn’t will herself to do it. It was like her body was frozen to the spot, some sort of primeval defense mechanism to prevent her from facing Quinn and appearing like a schmuck in front of him, thus protecting her heart from further injury.

  At least, that’s what she kept trying to tell herself she was doing.

  Really, she knew deep down she was being a coward.

  “That’s it.” She quickly changed out of her wet clothes. She couldn’t hide out in her bedroom. She was going to face Quinn and see where the chips fell.

  When she opened her bedroom door she heard his raised voice filter through from the guest bedroom.

  “Honestly, tell me the truth, Ted.”

/>   Quinn sounded agitated and worried.

  Charlotte tiptoed down the hall. The door to his bedroom was slightly ajar. She could just catch a glimpse of Quinn sitting at the desk, holding his head in his hands and staring down at the phone, which was on speaker.

  “I really can’t say, Quinn. I’m only stating the facts from what I’ve seen in other cases.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Cases? What cases?

  “I need some kind of a ballpark idea, Ted. Just give me that. It’ll put my mind at ease.”

  There was a loud audible sigh over the phone. “No, you probably won’t regain full function of your hand again. Your hand was crushed. You’re lucky you still have it and have some range of motion.”

  This time her heart didn’t skip a beat. It almost stopped completely. The blood was draining away from her face and the room began to spin.

  Couldn’t. Operate? The implications were too horrific to fathom.

  She wanted to move away. Her stomach was knotting, her throat was constricted as she fought the urge to be sick. All she could think about was Mentlana and the baby. He was risking her reputation, as well. If Mentlana or the baby died because he failed to mention he was no longer fit for duty, her reputation would be on the line. The people of Cape Recluse wouldn’t trust her as freely as they did now.

  His ineptitude could cost her the only home she’d ever known, and that thought was too frightening.

  There was no way she was going to risk her family, the people she loved, because Quinn’s pride might be hurt. If he couldn’t operate then there was no way he was going near Mentlana Tikivik, or anyone else, for that matter. But she also felt sorry for Quinn. His whole focus in med school had been about becoming the best, the top of his field, and now he couldn’t operate. How must he feel about that?

  “Can I operate?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t see why not, but you’ll most likely need assistance.”

  “I don’t have access to other surgeons.”

  “Look, I could say you’d be fine, but without assessing your hand I can’t give you a definite answer. Just keep up with the exercises.

  “Thanks, Ted.”

  “Call me if you need some more help. Sorry I couldn’t ease your mind.”

  Charlotte heard Quinn end the call and shut off his phone. She tried to move away from where she was standing, but once again she was frozen to the spot.

  Quinn whipped open the door and his eyes widened as he saw her, standing still in the hallway, shaking with anger and betrayal. It was her own fault. She’d allowed him into her life again. At least this time she hadn’t lost a baby. At least this time her heart hadn’t been blown to smithereens.

  “Charlotte.” His tone was weary and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “No. I don’t suppose you did.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “CHARLOTTE...” QUINN’S HEART stuttered at the sight of her. She was dressed casually in a soft-looking lavender sweater and blue jeans, her red curls hanging loose over her shoulders. Her posture, however, was anything but casual, and her face was like thunder. She stood like she was on the edge of a precipice, and that one wrong move by him and she’d jump.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Charlotte, I wanted to tell you. It’s been something I’ve been trying to tell you since I arrived.”

  Her gaze dropped to his hand and the scars that marred the surface of his skin. He was sure she was looking past the physical ones he carried to the ones deep inside him and the haunted past that had scarred them both, and he watched as the anger in her face ebbed away.

  “Tell me,” she urged gently, at last.

  Do not be the obstinate man.

  He met Charlotte’s gaze. Though her face was now unreadable and passive, her eyes were full of concern. He longed to pull her into his arms once more, to tell her everything would be okay.

  Only he didn’t know how to say the words, or if it would all be okay.

  “Quinn, please.”

  “I’m still a surgeon, if that’s what you’re wondering. I have a medical license.” It was all he could say. He was having a hard time trying to tell her that his hand had been broken. It would be like admitting his own defeat, admitting to her that he was the shadow of his former self.

  “Okay,” she said, confused. “I assumed so. Tell me about the scars, Quinn. What happened?”

  “A car accident.”

  She nodded. “Go on.”

  “Fog caused a massive pileup on the highway. My car flipped, my hand became lodged in the door. For a while I didn’t think it could be saved. Hell, when I was trapped, waiting for the paramedics, I thought I was going to die.”

  Charlotte’s face paled and she moved into his bedroom. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “You brought me up here to operate on your friend. I couldn’t tell you what had happened to me.”

  “So putting Mentlana’s life at risk is not as important as saving face?”

  “Of course not!” he snapped, and then took a deep breath as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “I’d never put a patient at risk. It’s why I was calling my physiotherapist.”

  Charlotte closed the distance between them and sat next to him, taking his shattered hand in hers.

  “If your physiotherapist or orthopedic surgeon cleared you for surgery and you still have your license, you can operate.” It was if she was stating it because she couldn’t quite believe it, and he didn’t blame her one bit.

  “Yes” was all he said.

  “You know you can, or else you wouldn’t have boarded that plane and come up here.”

  What if I came up here for purely selfish reasons? Which was what he wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, he pulled his hand out of hers and stood.

  “I won’t put your friend’s life at risk. I hope you can trust me on this. Do you trust me, Charlotte?”

  * * *

  Charlotte didn’t know what to say. The room began to spin and she was still trying to take in everything. She knew something had happened to him, but didn’t know the extent. She stood and turned her back to him, unable to process what he’d just asked. Did she trust him? She didn’t even know that answer herself, so how could she tell him otherwise?

  “I don’t...I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. You have no reason to trust me. I deceived you. I didn’t tell you about my accident, but I want you to know I’d never do anything to harm a patient.”

  Charlotte heard his footfalls as he closed the space between them, the heat of his body against her back as he stood behind her. She moved away, stunned and not sure she could believe him. If she did and he was wrong and something happened to Mentlana... The thought was too horrifying to comprehend.

  She glanced over her shoulder and her heart skipped a beat, her stomach fluttering just looking at him. Charlotte nodded slowly. “I trust you.”

  “Thank you.” Quinn moved past her to leave, but she reached out and took his hand again. He paused and she traced the faint scars with her thumb. She could only begin to imagine the hours of pain he’d endured as they’d put the pieces of him back together.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you,” she whispered.

  He tilted her chin so she was forced to look at him. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  Charlotte’s knees began to knock just a bit as she stared into his eyes, getting lost in them. His eyes were like melted chocolate and she so loved chocolate.

  It’d been so long since his strong arms had wrapped around her. His absence in her life was akin to physical pain. A pain that had been numbed by throwing herself into her work and reminding herself of the pain he’d
caused her.

  Quinn’s hand slipped around her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair at the nape, bringing her closer to him. His hot breath fanned her cheek. She closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss that she didn’t know she longed for, but which she did, all the same.

  What am I doing?

  Yeah, she trusted him in his surgical abilities, but she wasn’t ready to let him into her heart again. She placed a hand on his chest, keeping him at bay. “I can’t. The day you left was the worst day of my life. I lost you and I lost...” She trailed off, not wanting to share the pain of losing their child. She’d borne it alone for so long.

  He nodded. “I understand. I’m just grateful you trust me to do right by your friend. Thank you.”

  Charlotte turned on her heel and left his room. He’d gotten to her again and she’d almost let down her guard.

  She hated how he affected her so.

  * * *

  Charlotte avoided Quinn as much as possible. She was angry at herself for momentarily allowing him to break through to her and she was angry that her hormones seemed to be overruling her common sense.

  Of course, it was hard to block Quinn out of her life when they only had two thousand square feet of combined clinic and house space. Add that to a blinding blizzard that lasted three days, keeping them housebound.

  At least she had her regular work to keep her busy, when patients desperate enough were able to slog through the snow to keep their appointments. Most of her day was dealing with her job, locked in her office with only the roar of the storm outside to accompany her and her jangled thoughts.

  Alone in her office, she kept reliving their doomed relationship over and over again. After it had ended, when she’d first looked back on it, she’d chastised herself for not noticing that things would never have worked out between them.

  And it hadn’t only been about their very different career paths. Quinn wasn’t a family man. That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him. Charlotte wanted a family, more than anything, and Quinn was a workaholic.