Hope on the Rocks by Annabeth Albert

Thirty-One

Adam

God bless modern medicine. I woke up feeling a thousand times better and rather put out when I discovered the other side of the bed empty. Quinn had cuddled with me all night, but he wasn’t here now, and my cock had thoughts on his absence. However, the scent of coffee said he likely wasn’t far.

I was already in boxers, so I padded into the kitchen, where I found Quinn pouring himself a mug. My coffee maker was a castoff from Mom and the carafe had several battle scars from a long life. “Sorry if my coffee pot isn’t fancy enough for you.”

I’d meant it as a joke, but part of me was still smarting from Ramona’s comment earlier in the week. Maybe Quinn needed something—someone—more upscale.

“It’s fine. Gets the job done.” Quinn grabbed a second mug. “There’s plenty for you. How do you feel?”

“Human enough to try some coffee.” I accepted the mug. “And human enough that parts of me were unhappy to wake up alone. You should have woken me up too. I might have been good for some fooling around.”

Quinn shrugged as he took a seat at the table where a bowl of cereal was already waiting. When I’d ended up with a box of his preferred brand, I wasn’t even sure. “You needed your rest. Probably best we didn’t anyway.”

“Because you have to get to the clinic?” I grabbed a muffin from the fridge and joined him. “Or because you’re worried about my health? I’ve never had sex bring on a migraine. Promise.”

“That’s good. And I do have to get to the clinic, but I have a few minutes.” His voice was way more clipped than usual, making a prickle race up my bare back.

“I’d ask if it was enough minutes to go back to bed with me, but you’ve had a ‘we need to talk’ sign over your head this whole conversation. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” His heavy sigh said the exact opposite.

“Are you mad because Mom was frustrated with not knowing about Ramona’s pregnancy? Because I’m not mad, Quinn. I get why you didn’t tell. You have doctor ethics. Mom will get over her issue. I’ll talk to her myself.”

“Thanks. And I’m not mad. It’s more that she was right.” Quinn’s tone was so dejected that I had to reach across the table and touch his hand.

However, I was also a little confused. “About wanting to know?”

“No, about you burning yourself out and making yourself sick with too many long hours.”

Ah. I should have known that he’d heard that part of our conversation too. Getting mad at him for listening in wasn’t going to solve anything, but some of my irritation crept into my tone. “I can handle it.”

“Your body says otherwise.” And now I’d apparently earned the Dr. Strauss tone. Great.

“It’s because I screwed up the dosing of the prevention med.” It had been the week from hell, and it was no wonder that I’d slacked on getting my medication refills and taking things on time. “Won’t happen again.”

“You can’t promise that. And maybe the forgetting happened because you were stressed? Also, even the best prevention isn’t going to be able to counter things like not enough sleep.” He had more of the reasonable doctor tone, but his hint of bitterness on the word sleep gave him away.

“Don’t take Mom’s late-night comment personally. Please.” I took his hand again. The last thing I wanted was him blaming himself for my headache. “Mom’s like you, always on me to take better care of myself. She wasn’t suggesting we not date. I have enough time for you too.”

“I don’t want to be another item on your to-do list.” Quinn played with my fingers as he looked at the tabletop rather than my face.

“You’re not.” I tipped his chin up with my other hand so he’d see I was serious. “You’re my favorite item on the list.”

“That’s sweet. But the list is too long, and it’s about to get even longer. And I don’t want to be the thing that pushes other more important things off the list.”

I dropped his hand. “So you’re ending things because I might be getting busier?”

“It’s almost Fall.” Quinn glanced back at my fridge, at the calendar there and Teddy’s school pics. “You said yourself—”

“You know I haven’t been thinking like that for weeks now.” I cut him off because he was being ridiculous. Not exactly unexpected, but definitely unwarranted. “Don’t put a time limit on this just because you’re worried.”

“It’s not worry as much as being practical.”

“And noble, letting me go so I have more time for my family and my health.” Now I was the one with bitterness in my voice, and I pushed away from the table, unable to keep pretending this was an average breakfast conversation. I stalked to the window.

“Your health is important.” Quinn followed, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It matters to me.”

“Yeah, well, you matter to me too.” I turned to face him, pulling him closer to me. “And I don’t care if it’s practical or if we have to squeeze time in, I want to keep seeing you.”

“I want that too, so damn much, but your health is more important than you finding time for me and some kinky games.” He held me tighter as if he were trying to store up the contact.

“Being your Daddy isn’t a game. Not for me.” I released him from the embrace because having him that close yet so far away was starting to hurt too much.

“That’s not what I meant.” Quinn drew his shoulders up, posture rigid. “More that this isn’t the time to put fooling around first.”

“Quit telling me that you know what I need. If we are not a priority for you, then say that.”

“I want you healthy and happy as my top priority. You’re right. I don’t know what you need.” His face crumbled, and for a second, it seemed like tears were inevitable, but then his expression buttoned up tight. “I don’t have the answers. All I know is that something has to give, same as your mom said.”

“And all I know is that your logic is crap.” I glared at him. Damn him for forcing this issue. He might have a point about me getting busier, but any sort of breaking up wasn’t the answer. No way. “You’re scared that I’m going to dump you at some unspecified future point because I might, emphasis on might, be too busy for a relationship. But you’re afraid that you might care too much by then, so you’re going to end it now rather than get hurt like you did before.”

“That’s not fair.” Quinn met me hard stare for hard stare.

“But it is part of it,” I insisted.

“Protecting myself from future hurt isn’t some tiny consideration. I’ve done the whole fresh start thing. I don’t want to do that again. I like it here, even with the limitations of a rural practice. I don’t want some ugly ending.”

“And yet you’re trying to end things.”

“I don’t want…” He twisted his mouth right as his phone vibrated. “Damn it. That’s my phone alarm. I’ve got to get to the clinic. I don’t want to end things. I don’t. But I also refuse to be something that contributes to poor health for you.”

“Go.” I rubbed my temples. “But we’re not done talking. If neither of us wants to end things, there has to be an answer.”

“I hope so.” His face was heartbreakingly sad, eyes liquid. The hopeless sag to his features made it clear he didn’t believe me. He collected his things, and I didn’t stop him, despite a bone-deep certainty that he wouldn’t be taking my call later. He was so damn sure he was doing the right thing, while I was convinced there was a way for me to have it all. Somehow. Someway. This wasn’t done. It couldn’t be.