Hope on the Rocks by Annabeth Albert

Twenty-Three

Quinn

“Hey.” Adam’s voice interrupted my plodding walk to my SUV outside the clinic. I looked up, which took more effort than I wanted to admit, and found him parked right next to me.

“What are you…” I trailed off as I realized exactly why he was likely waiting for me. Damn it. I didn’t need a keeper. “Flint. Did he say something?”

“Yeah.” Standing next to the truck, Adam nodded. He didn’t reach for me, but his eyes were full of sympathy. “Don’t think he trusted you to tell me. Or anyone else. Said you insisted on working the rest of your shift.”

“Well, of course.” I forced myself to shrug, reaching deep for a pragmatic tone. “When I did my residency in Portland, we lost patients all the time in that ER. It happens. A shift doesn’t stop when things go sideways.”

“In the ER, maybe. But this is Rainbow Cove, and an urgent care clinic, not a full-scale urban ER,” Adam said reasonably. “These things are rarer here. And even if they were common like in a big city ER, you’re allowed to need a minute.”

“I do need…something.” A minute wasn’t it, but hell if I knew what was. We were the last two cars in the lot, and when he reached for my upper arm, I had to work to not collapse into him. “Honestly, I’m probably terrible company right now because all I want is to hibernate until I have to do it all over again tomorrow.”

“I get that, but you shouldn’t be alone.” He rubbed my biceps. Suddenly his appearance made more sense. He was likely worried about a repeat of me drowning my sorrows in a cocktail.

I made a frustrated noise. While I appreciated the concern for my well-being, I also didn’t need a babysitter. “I’m not at risk of a drinking bender, trust me.”

“I know that.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip. Him believing in me meant more than I would have thought. “Why are you here then?”

“Because you need a friend. And setting aside everything else, we’re friends now. Let me be your friend tonight.”

I nodded slowly because I wasn’t strong enough to turn him down. “I’m likely to be awful company. I doubt I can eat anything, and I’m not feeling very talkative.”

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk.” He held my gaze, but hell if I could read his intense expression. I associated that sort of focus from him with Daddy scenes, but this wasn’t my bedroom. I tested out the idea of fucking away this nightmare of a day, but I wasn’t sure I had it in me.

“I’m not sure I’m up for—”

“I didn’t mean sex,” he cut me off. “Give me more credit than that. Come on. Let’s go. We’re gonna go walk the beach trail near your place while there’s still some light.”

“You’re going to walk on the beach with me?”

“Sure.” He shrugged, expression still rather enigmatic. “It’s what you do when you’re stressed, and it’s definitely healthier than me pouring you some shots. We’ll walk, and you don’t have to talk if you don’t wanna.”

“Okay.” Clearly, Adam had been listening when I’d talked about what I did in my downtime, and his plan was as good as any other. Operating more or less on autopilot, I followed him back to my condo, where we both parked. Adam had a flashlight in one hand and a small bag in the other as we made our way to the beach access trail.

“What’s in there?” I pointed at the bag.

“Water.” He handed me a bottle as we picked our way down the steep path. “You should drink if nothing else. And there’s food if you change your mind on eating.”

I took a sip of the water to appease him. We passed a few beachgoers on the trail, but they were all heading back up. The sky was already starting to shift, purples and pinks signaling the coming sunset. Once we reached the rocky shore and narrow beach, the expanse was largely deserted, a few human shapes off in the distance, but no one close by as we walked.

Adam didn’t press me to talk or try to fill the silence, which I appreciated. The longer we walked, the more my lungs seemed to expand, breathing free for the first time in hours. The rocky outcroppings that Rainbow Cove was known for were transformed by the twilight, becoming more austere.

“I usually come early in the morning,” I said as we approached one of the largest outcroppings, a tall, narrow tower featured on many postcards and tourist brochures for the area. “Funny how the same rocks can look so different depending on the time of day.”

“Yeah. I’ve lived here my whole life, but I don’t come down to the beach nearly often enough. The ocean always seems so much bigger and louder up close.”

We stood there, side-by-side, admiring the vast sea for a long moment. I exhaled hard, letting a little more tension go. I still felt rather…fragile, but not quite so ready to shatter. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Anytime.” Shifting the flashlight to his hand with the bag, Adam took my hand and gave it a firm squeeze right as my stomach growled even louder than the roar of the waves crashing against the rocks. I laughed, and so did he. “You sure you don’t want to try eating something?”

“I guess I could try.” I took a seat on a long piece of driftwood a ways back from the surf.

Handing me a wrapped package, Adam sat down next to me. “It’s a sandwich. One of Logan’s new specials. Lots of grilled vegetables. You’ll like it.”

“You take such good care of me.” I offered him what I hoped passed for a smile.

“I try. And that’s my job.” He bumped my shoulder. “The Daddy part of me never completely shuts off, especially around you.”

“Well, you’re good at it.” I took another small bite. The sandwich offered an explosion of flavors—tangy sourdough, sweet peppers and zucchini, savory pesto. I knew I’d feel better having eaten, even if I was struggling to fully appreciate Logan’s masterpiece. “Thanks for bringing the food. And thanks for not making me talk.”

“I’m here when you’re ready, but also if you’re not.” Adam leaned forward, hands on his knees and gaze on the ocean, not me. “I grew up with a mom and a sister always wanting me to air my feelings. I get that some things aren’t easy to talk about. Sometimes a person just wants to be not alone without a bunch of questions. I’ve been there.”

“Yeah.” That was it exactly. I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t want to unpack everything in my head. Not yet. Maybe not at all.

After I finished eating, we slowly made our way back up the beach, light rapidly fading now. We didn’t hurry though. I had Adam and the flashlight. We could afford to go slow.

“If I was going to talk, I’d talk to you,” I said as we approached the trail. “You’re so easy to talk to. Even about the hard stuff.”

“It’s all that time hearing Mom and Ramona and their troubles. Good practice for all my time listening to our customers.” Adam laughed, then sobered and grabbed my hand again. “Seriously, though, I like listening to you way more than all the others, even the hard parts of your stories. You’re not going to scare me away with something too heavy.”

“I’m not worried about being too sad for you,” I admitted as we started the climb back up to the road. Having to concentrate on my footing made it easier, to be honest. “I’m not really sad.”

“No?” Adam didn’t sound particularly surprised. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”

“I’m more mad. So mad.” I grabbed at the scrubby grass as we scrambled up the path. “And I hate that anger. It’s…there’s no point.”

“Sure there is. It means you care.”

“Too damn much.” I skidded a little and Adam reached out to steady me.

“Your caring is one of the best things about you,” he countered, keeping a hand on my elbow. “But it’s totally okay to get angry. Sucks that they couldn’t get you a helicopter fast enough.”

I let out a raw sound, and suddenly the words that I’d held at bay tumbled free. “I shouldn’t be so mad. That’s just life out here in small towns. Sometimes someone else needs life flight first. Not enough resources to go around. No one’s fault. And sometimes we do everything right, and we still lose. Fuck. I hate when we lose.”

“I know. I hate it for you.” At the top of the trail, Adam peered deeply into my eyes, last of the light giving him a soft purple glow. “But you tried. That matters.”

“Yeah. There’s value in trying. I hate when it’s not enough, but I do think we make a difference. That’s a big part of why I practice medicine. Though I can’t help liking it more when we get a win.”

“Of course, you like to win. Everyone does,” Adam said as we picked our way back toward the condo complex.

“I’m sorry. That sounded like so much ego. But I like when I can tell death to fuck off. Not today, fucker.”

“That’s it. You tell death off.” Adam laughed hard, probably because I so rarely cursed, but there was a kindness to his voice too.

“Fuck. I probably sound like my cousin the SEAL with all the F-bombs in my head right now.”

“Ha. Go ahead and curse. Get mad. Go on.” Turning back toward the ocean, he made a sweeping gesture like I was supposed to yell it out right there. What the hell. Maybe I should try it.

“Fuck. Fuck,” I roared into the silent night air, but it didn’t help much. “Nope. Still angry. I keep going over and over what happened. What I could have done differently. Maybe nothing.”

“You’re a good doctor.” Adam grabbed my hand again as we continued on toward my place. “I know you did all you could.”

“I did.” I slumped next to my door, letting the frame hold me up a moment before I unlocked it. “And it wasn’t enough today. I’m spoiled by all our easy days.”

“You are not.” He steered me into the condo, flipping on a light as we went.

“Yeah, I am.” I could admit that. He was being kind, but I had plenty of friends who dealt with patients dying on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. “I practice in a specialty where days like this are rare. Most weeks are full of sprains and strep tests and referrals. I like that, racking up the small wins.”

“You always wanted to be a general practice-type doctor?” he asked as he led me toward the couch. I flopped down, ending up slumped against him.

“Yes. It’s silly, but I did. I had a lot of ear infections as a kid, and we were always at our family doctor. He’d always ask how I was doing in school.” My voice turned fond. Despite a sprawling extended family, my parents weren’t particularly close to any of the relatives, and our doctor had felt like another uncle while being far warmer than my own distant father. “I had some major hero worship going on, and he was the first person to say that if I was so smart and got such good grades, maybe I could be a doctor.”

“You are a smart one, that’s for sure.” Adam tugged me closer with an arm around my shoulders. “And you also work damn hard. You should be proud of all you’ve achieved.”

“Thanks. After Dr. Piper said I could be a doctor, I started to see that as a goal for me. And then in high school, I got a big win, so to speak.” My voice was distant, my mind transported to a day so crystal clear in my memories that I could still smell the honeysuckle in the yard. “I was CPR certified from a medical explorer program I did, and when this friend of my dad’s collapsed on our back patio with a heart issue, I was the one to save him with CPR until the ambulance arrived. I liked that feeling.”

“That’s amazing. And you’ve saved a lot of people. Probably more than you even know.” Adam squeezed my shoulders. “Because of you, Mom’s on blood pressure and cholesterol meds now. No big dramatic heart scare—thank God—but you spotting her symptoms probably made a difference down the road.”

“I hope so.” I leaned into him, letting my head fall against his. His beard prickled against my skin, comforting in its familiarity. I liked knowing I’d helped. His mom was a great person, and having made a little difference in her health was a win.

“Today still sucked though.” Holding me close, he dropped a kiss to my forehead. “And I’m so sorry you had to go through that, baby. I know all the wins in the world can’t make up for one bad loss.”

“I appreciate that.” I inhaled slowly, drinking in all of Adam’s usual woodsy scent, his nearness, and his realness. And his mouth was right there, a life raft to seize before the weight of all my heavy emotions pulled me under. I kissed him because he was there, warm and willing. But more than that, he was the guy who had come for me, walked on the beach with me, put up with my silence, and all that kindness was a weight too. Kissing him was easy, so easy, and so preferable to letting myself drown in my feelings.

Unusual for him, he let me lead, let be the one to kiss him softly at first, then harder and with desperate purpose. My tongue sought his, the friction and slide enough to keep me floating that much longer. Today still sucked. The more we kissed, the more I expected to outrace that reality, but I couldn’t seem to quite escape my own racing mind. Not for lack of trying though.

“What do you need?” Adam whispered, cupping my face with a tenderness I almost couldn’t bear. Luckily, I didn’t have to. I could run from his soft expression and gentle hands and ready comfort, retreat to the distraction of sex and the games we played.

“This, Daddy.” I reached for his belt.

“Hey.” He stilled my hands before I could accomplish my task. “What do you need, Quinn? Not what you think I need or want. Not what you wish you were up for. What do you need?”

Fuck. Had anyone truly asked me that before? I wasn’t sure, and all his unending niceness, his innate goodness was going to be my undoing.

“Don’t know,” I admitted, one more thing that I didn’t have an answer for. He wouldn’t let me run from his caretaking or from myself, and my body trembled, a literal tremor from the effort of keeping myself together. I was a ball of rapidly expanding emotions with no escape valve. “I’m just over here, trying to not fall apart.”

“Fall apart.” Holding my shaking hands, he held my gaze, a seriousness to his eyes I wasn’t sure I’d seen before. “If you need sex to take your mind off things, I can do that. But if you need someone to hold you, I can do that too. You’re not going to scare me. Scream. Yell. Punch the couch. Fall apart.”

“Fuck. I’m just so angry. Still. Why am I so angry?” A few frustrated tears escaped my eyes despite my best efforts to hold them at bay. My sinuses burned, and I removed my glasses to swab at my eyes with the back of my hand. “Sorry. Sorry.”

I was angry, so angry, yet my body kept wanting to weep, not rage. If Adam wasn’t here, I’d probably be curled up in a ball in my shower, trying to not cry and failing miserably. Maybe I was angry at him too. Angry that he had to see me like this. Angry that he wouldn’t let me hide behind sex.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Not with me.” He continued to hold me, his tender grip a lifeline in the sea of all my churning feelings, including many I couldn’t name.

“Fuck this.” I tried the anger thing again, but improbably, yet more tears escaped for me to wipe at with shaky fingers. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Come here.” Not waiting for me to comply, Adam gathered me close, pulling me into his lap. “Come here. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You can cry.”

“Not supposed to,” I mumbled even as more tears trailed down my cheeks, more than I could hide with my hands. And then it was like a dam burst inside me, and I outright wept. I wept for the patient I’d lost, for the life they wouldn’t get to lead, the world they’d left behind, and for the inherent unfairness of how death always won in the end. I wept too for all the other times I’d lost and lost big and hadn’t been able to stop to breathe, let alone cry.

“Shh. Go right ahead. You cry.” Adam was murmuring nonsense words that barely registered in my brain as he held me tightly, hands soothing on my back. “I’m here.”

I clung to him and cried, not only for my patient, for my frustrating, awful day, but for every damn time I’d heard that boys shouldn’t cry, every time I’d felt guilty for crying alone in my shower, every time I’d wanted to weep and not had this same space and comfort to do so.

“You did good, Quinn. I know you can’t see that now, but you did. I’m so proud of you. And I’m proud of you now, how much you care.” Adam kept right on holding me, stroking my back and hair as I came apart. But unlike my fears, I didn’t drown in my sadness, didn’t fall into a bottomless pit with no escape route. Instead, all that anger I’d had for hours and hours simply…vanished. Gone. Replaced with a bone-deep weariness and resignation, but no more rage.

Gone. Released, taking with it all those weights pressing down on me. Far from drowning, I was floating from how good and right and necessary it felt to let go. I’d never felt safer in my life, more comforted, more surrounded by strength. And Adam stayed like he’d said, holding me tightly, not in the least deterred by my waterworks.

Amazingly, I wasn’t even shaking anymore. My face was wet and sticky, and Adam’s shirt was probably done for, but I wasn’t crying or shuddering any longer.

I gave a near-giddy laugh. “Oh my God. I’m a mess.”

“You’ll clean. I think you needed that. Feel a little better?” Adam continued to rub circles on my back, and I felt his words on multiple levels. Bodies showered. Clothes washed. And spirits repaired. I could get messy and sloppy with him and still return to my usual self afterward. What a gift. What an utterly wonderful, undeserved gift.

“Yes. Yes.” On the heels of another giddy laugh, guilt stole in. I shouldn’t have made him have to deal with that. “I’m sor—“

“Shh. No apologizing. I’m so glad you trusted me with that.”

My eyes narrowed as I studied him closely. His skin was blotchy, almost like he’d been the one crying. But his eyes were dry and as solemn as I’d seen them. He meant it. He wasn’t judging me for falling apart. He was thanking me. Wow.

“Is this another part of the Daddy thing?” I asked, voice more than a little awestruck.

Still holding me, he shrugged. “Maybe. Told you. I can’t seem to turn off the Daddy around you. I like taking care of you. In all the ways. Or maybe it’s just an us thing. Whatever. I’m here for it.”

“Me too,” I whispered. I was here for this, here for us, here for this wonderful, terrifying place that had less and less to do with sex and everything to do with him.