Hope on the Rocks (Rainbow Cove)

“Thanks.” Adam accepted the white paper pharmacy bag from me. “How much did you hear?”

I should have known my double entrance trick wouldn’t work on him. He was too damn observant, even in pain. “Only that your mom found out about Ramona and is mad I didn’t tell.”

I conveniently left out hearing her concerns about Adam’s loaded schedule as I stood behind him on the couch to rub his shoulders.

“She’ll get over it.” He stretched into my massage, but his tone was bitter enough to make me pause.

“And you?”

“And me what?” He tilted his head back to meet my gaze.

“Are you mad at me too?” I had to ask, especially given how frosty Patsy had been on her exit.

“Of course not. I know you’ve got that doctor oath thing. You were in a crappy position. You did the right thing, even if I didn’t like not knowing. And Mom will understand that too. She was just in a Mama Bear sort of mood. You’re a good doctor, Quinn.”

“Thanks.” I resumed my massage even as my eyes stung. His understanding meant more than I’d realized. Even knowing what likely had to happen between us going forward, I still couldn’t bear the thought of him truly mad at me. “And I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t my news to share. Not really your mother’s either.”

“I know.” Adam groaned. “This was less gossip and more being worried about Ramona, so it made her extra-protective.” Shaking his head, he whistled low, more pain clouding his eyes. “Damn. Hell of timing.”

He lurched away from my grip, swallowing hard, all the signs of riding a wave of nausea, including a way greener pallor.

“Let’s get your pill into you before the nausea worsens.” Coming around to the front of the couch, I retrieved his glass of ice water from the side table. “I brought food too, but that’s in the kitchen.”

“Doubt I can eat.” He grimaced again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do you want me to leave so you can rest?”

“No. I’m fucking awful company, but I want you to stay.” He exhaled hard. And that right there was one of the things I liked most about him. My mom had struggled with headaches too, but she’d often pushed my help away. It wasn’t easy for Adam to accept help either, but he let me in emotionally, which made my heart swell even as I remained concerned for his pain.

“I’ll stay.” I dropped down to sit next to him on the couch and rubbed his tense fingers. “What do you need most right now?”

“To worry about everything tomorrow.” He dropped his head to my shoulder, as vulnerable as I’d ever seen him. In that instant, there was little I wouldn’t do for him. “All I want is to take my meds and lie down with you. Everything else can wait.”

“It can.” My voice came out all thick. Everything could wait, but not forever. Soon we’d have to talk, truly talk, but right then, all I wanted was to take care of him the way he deserved.

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?”