Chapter 5

“Just do five more,” Kiera instructed, watching Quinn on the mat in front of her as he carefully held a small medicine ball between his ankles.

He scowled at her, but did as she said.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from three to four o’clock in the afternoon, Kiera’s workdays had taken a massive dive—and she’d been working with Quinn only a couple weeks. At first, she’d thought it would be easy. They already knew each other—it was familiar and comfortable.

Nope. Not the case.

It was not easy. It was not comfortable, and it was certainly not the Quinn she had once been familiar with. He was cold and distant, and while he worked hard at the exercises and stretches she gave him, he refused to make small talk with her. She knew that shouldn’t even be on her radar as his doctor, but being around him again was a dynamic that went beyond doctor-patient and she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to be his Keeks again.

Quinn was making it very clear she no longer was. He wasn’t outright hostile, but he also wasn’t friendly, and for Quinn—one of the kindest men she’d ever known—that alone was hostile. Plus, it was downright awkward.

“We all finished here?” he asked, wiping a towel over his brow and pushing himself up to a standing position after their third Friday session together. His cane was at his side, but he was already not using it as heavily as he used to, which made her really optimistic about his progress. He’d been working hard not only in his appointments with her but at home, and his surgeon had reported he was healing very well.

Kiera surveyed him for a moment, wanting to say more, wishing she could just be friendly with him, the way they’d always been. “Yes, we’re finished,” she said, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin slightly. Despite his sour attitude, she was proud of the work they were doing and of her part in it. It was yet another reminder that she’d done the right thing in pursuing a career that made her happy, because this man was in no shape to make anyone happy—including himself.

“Good. See you Monday.” He turned to head toward the door, picking up his jacket off the exam table. Something shiny slid to the ground, making a small clinking noise as it bounced against the linoleum. “Shit.”

Kiera bent down and scooped it up, since it had landed right by her feet.

“Please, give that back to me,” he asked quickly, extending his hand toward her.

She frowned, confused by the panicky look on his face. Glancing down at the object in her hands, she turned it over. “Hold on, I just want to look at it.”

“Keeks—”

“Jeez, Quinn, I can’t even look at it?” She let out a huff, her foot tapping the floor in frustration. “Do you hate me that much?”

His mouth fell open, his head rearing back as if she’d just smacked him. “What? I don’t hate you.”

“That’s news to me,” she replied flippantly, before examining the object in her hands.

Sleek silver was flatly shaped like a small heart, a ribboned look to the metal that arched around to form its sides. In the center, the heart was divided in half. One side was a dark, black glass, barely transparent, but she could see the outline of her fingers on the other side. The other half of the heart was empty, just a blank space she could see right through, and she wondered what it meant. Either way, it was beautiful and intricate, and she immediately admired the craftsman’s handiwork. “This is really beautiful, Quinn. Where did you get this?”

“I made it.”

Her eyes flew up to his, seeing only sincerity in his expression. “You made this?”

He nodded.

“You. Made. This,” she repeated, turning it over in her hands again. “How? When? Why? I didn’t even know you knew how to do something like this, Quinn. This is insanely talented—you know that, right?” She was rambling again, but she didn’t care. She’d just discovered that her best friend—ex–best friend, or whatever—had a secret talent, and she suddenly wanted to be his biggest champion. All her irritation immediately washed away at her excitement over his newfound skill.

“Slow down, Keeks. It’s not that big a deal.”

“The hell it’s not—it’s gorgeous!” she insisted, holding the metal heart up, admiring the light shimmering through the darkened glass. “What does it mean? Why did you make it?”

“It was a gift for a girl I once loved,” he said simply.

Kiera looked back at him, her stomach turning for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you have it then?” she pried further. “If it was a gift for her?”

Her. Ugh. The very idea upset Kiera. Quinn had been in love with some random girl, and she hadn’t even known about it. She shouldn’t care—she knew she shouldn’t—but somehow, it felt wrong. It felt like she should have been there for that…like he should have been hers. Wait, what? Kiera swallowed as she realized her feelings were more jealousy than anything else, which seemed absurd since it’d been years and she didn’t know who he’d dated, or was dating now. Nor did she even have a right to know.

But he’s my Quinn…

Quinn shrugged, a sheepish look on his face as he stared at the floor between them. “She didn’t want it.”

Kiera’s mouth fell open. “She what?”

“Kiera, please. It’s not that big a deal,” Quinn tried to assure her, but she would not be calmed.

“You made this amazing gift for some woman, and you’re an amazing guy, and she didn’t want it!” Kiera scoffed and pressed the metal heart against her chest, as if cradling it. “Well, she’s an idiot.”

Quinn’s lips twitched. “Yeah, I thought so, too.”

“Hmmph,” she huffed. She held the heart back out to him. She couldn’t have it in her hands another second—not when it had sent her emotions into a tailspin. A few minutes ago, she’d been sure he hated her and glad she had closed this chapter between them. This tiny, metal heart and the softness it had elicited from him had ripped hers open and she wasn’t ready. Was she? “It’s really a beautiful piece of work, Quinn. I’m impressed…amazed, even.”

“Thanks.” His fingers closed around hers as he accepted it and then slid it into his pocket. Kiera tried to ignore the tingle that raced through her body at his touch, or how she wanted to hold on to the heart and never give it back.

Taking a step toward the door, Quinn paused and looked back at her as if he was about to say something but was trying to decide whether it was a good idea or not.

She smiled and gave him a small wave goodbye, wishing she had something smart to say, or that he would stay longer.

“Hey, do you maybe want to see where I made it?” he asked, his eyes skittering around the room as if he was worried she’d say no.

As if I could. Kiera glanced down at her watch. Technically, she could leave. She didn’t have any more patients today and was off all weekend. “Right now?”

“Sure, why not?”

She could think of fifteen reasons why not—professionalism, their complicated history, the heat she felt in her core when she was around him—but every rationale disappeared as she smiled. “I’d like that. I’m done for the day anyway.” She started walking back in the direction of her office. “Let me go grab my stuff. Did your mom bring you today?”

He shook his head. “No. Taxi. Fiona needed Ma’s help to get Shea to her occupational therapist.”

Kiera warmed at all the familiar names, a pull in her heart toward the people she viewed as her family, too. She hadn’t realized how much before, but it was really good to be home again. “How about I drive us, then?” she asked, returning from the office after putting away her doctor’s coat and gathering her purse and jacket.

“That’d be great,” he said, his dark eyes making her shiver.

This would be great. Fingers crossed.

Why did I invite her here? Quinn leaned down and unfastened the lock at the bottom of the garage door. It was hard to do with his weak leg, but he didn’t want to have to ask her for help, so he powered through.

Honestly, he was confused as to why he’d asked her here in the first place. He had no interest in rehashing things between the two of them, but when he’d seen her reaction to his handmade heart…he couldn’t help himself. His ego had stepped in, and he’d wanted to show off—hell, it was the first thing he’d been able to be truly confident about since his accident.

No one, not even his family, knew about his studio. He hadn’t even told them where he lived until recently, which had made for many an exasperated rant from his mother when she hadn’t been able to access any of his things after the accident. Even then, he hadn’t allowed them in, preferring to wear his brothers’ clothes during his recovery rather than go get his own.

So why he was willing to show Kiera this part of himself confused him, but it felt right. He could trust her—at least about this.

As it was, she stepped forward and helped him push the door up. They let it slide out of their hands and slam angrily against the ceiling, as if complaining that it hadn’t been opened in a while.

Kiera’s eyes went wide as she stepped inside, and he moved over to flip on the industrial lights overhead. “Oh. My. Gosh. What is this place?”

“My studio,” he explained, the lights buzzing as they powered on and illuminated the long concrete room. “It used to be a mechanic’s garage, but I bought it a year ago and turned it into my studio. Fixed up the top floor as an apartment.”

“Wait, you live here, too?” She looked at him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Quinn, this is so amazing!”

He just smiled, watching her walk around different pieces in the room, surveying everything slowly and meticulously. One entire wall was filled with broken-down motorcycles, another with shelves filled with tools, and his giant metal statues were dispersed throughout the center of the floor.

The fascination in her eyes, the smile on her lips—he drank it in eagerly. There was an unexpected pride in his gut as he saw each of his pieces as if for the first time, through her gaze.

“Are all of these made out of motorcycle parts?” she called to him from the other side of the room as he leaned against the wall.

“Mostly, but there’s glass and other sheet metals thrown in here and there, too.”

The statue she was standing by now was of a woman pushing out of a wave that looked to be drowning her. He loved this piece because, depending on the angle it was viewed from, the waves were something different—hands choking her, tears swallowing her, a rush of love consuming her. It was how he’d pictured Kiera—so overwhelmed with everything her future had to offer that she’d completely missed him standing there, wanting her, wanting to tackle that future with her.

A silly thought, he knew, but he wondered if she saw that. She stood longer at that statue than any of the others, one arm around her waist and the other under her chin.

He walked over to her, careful not to let his cane hit any of the pieces. “What do you think?” he asked once he was alongside her.

She didn’t say anything at first, but he heard her sniffling.

“Keeks?” He slid the backs of his fingers down her cheek, turning her chin to face him. “Why are you crying?”

A small tear had trailed down her face, but she was smiling, and he could not have been more confused. “Quinn, this is so beautiful. Your work, your art…it’s masterful. It’s emotional and painful and uplifting. Everything art should be.”

Heat rose in his cheeks, unaccustomed to such praise, particularly since only one person in the entire world knew about his hobby, and she was standing here in front of him crying over it.

Kiera circled his waist with one of her arms, leaning her head against his shoulder. A simple, comforting pose that they’d been in hundreds of times over the years, but it felt heavier now. More meaningful.

He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her back, and just stared at the sculpture for a little while longer.

“I want to see how you make these,” she said, stepping away from him and wiping at her face. “Will you show me?”

He nodded and pointed to a large workbench on one side of the room. “Yeah, I normally work standing over there, but I think I’m going to need a chair. I know it’s not very gentlemanly to ask this of a lady, but would you mind grabbing me one of the chairs from my apartment upstairs?”

“Oh, of course,” she said, taking the key he held out to her. “You definitely shouldn’t be doing stairs, let alone carrying things right now.”

“Thanks. It’s through that door and up the stairs. Any chair you see is fine,” he instructed, pointing to a small wooden door on the far side of the room.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, heading for the door.

His gaze slid down her body. It was impossible not to notice how well she filled out her tight jeans, the fabric hugging her curves. Her hair fell down her back and swished from side to side with each step. It took all the restraint he had not to reach for her, to slide his fingers through her soft, billowing mane. He wanted to slide his tongue down the flushed skin that pressed against the top of her shirt, threatening to spill over.

Quinn paused as he realized what he was telling himself.

He wasn’t thinking in past tense anymore. He was considering her here and now, wanting her despite everything that had happened between them.

Walls were crumbling, and he was desperately trying to rebuild them, but he’d just shared a part of himself no one else had ever seen. He’d trusted her, and she’d taken that gift and cradled it gently in her hands. She’d loved his work, validated every bit of who he was. It wasn’t as a friend so much, the way he’d expected; it was somehow deeper…more intimate.

Maybe she wasn’t the young girl who’d overlooked him as a potential partner six years ago.

Maybe now she saw what he’d known all along—they were meant to be.