Chapter 3 The Pretty Doctor #2
The way he remembered names.
The way he smiled.
The way he cared.
The realization landed heavily as Finn finished updating treatment notes.
The doctor genuinely wanted people to get better.
Not because it was his job.
Because it mattered to him.
The sincerity felt impossible to fake.
And somehow that bothered Deck most of all.
Because beautiful people weren't supposed to be kind too.
Life should have rules against that sort of thing.
Instead, Finn Ashford appeared determined to possess every irritating quality imaginable.
The doctor finally looked up from his tablet.
Meeting Deck's stare directly.
"What?"
The question arrived before he could stop it.
Finn blinked.
Then smiled.
Slowly.
Knowingly.
Dangerously.
The expression immediately made Deck suspicious.
"You've been staring at me for ten seconds."
The accusation landed perfectly.
The mechanic felt heat crawl up his neck.
Instantly.
Ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
"I wasn't."
Finn's smile widened.
The sight made Deck want to leave.
Immediately.
Possibly forever.
The doctor returned to his notes.
Still smiling.
And for the first time in years, Declan Harlan found himself genuinely annoyed by how much he noticed another person.
Especially one with kind eyes, a smart mouth, and entirely too much beauty for a doctor in a town like Willow Ridge.
Difficult Patient
Finn had dealt with difficult patients before.
Plenty of them.
People in pain were rarely pleasant. Fear, frustration, grief, and uncertainty often disguised themselves as anger. Years of medical training had taught him that much.
What medical school hadn't taught him was how to handle a six-foot-three mechanic who glared at everyone like they had personally offended him.
Declan Harlan was becoming an interesting challenge.
Not because he was rude.
Although he definitely was.
Not because he argued.
Although he absolutely did.
The challenge came from the fact that beneath all the hostility, Finn couldn't shake the feeling that Deck was terrified.
The realization lingered as he sat alone in his office reviewing the mechanic's medical records.
Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the blinds.
Most appointments were finished.
The clinic had grown quieter.
For the first time all day, Finn could focus completely on one patient.
Unfortunately, that patient happened to be Declan Harlan.
The thick rehabilitation file sat open across his desk.
The more he read, the less he liked what he saw.
The burns would heal.
The fractures would heal.
The concussion symptoms were already improving.
The real concern involved Deck's hands.
Finn studied the reports again.
Multiple fractures.
Extensive soft tissue damage.
Burn injuries.
Inflammation.
Nerve irritation.
Recovery remained possible.
Likely, even.
But recovery wasn't guaranteed to be easy.
Or quick.
The timeline alone would devastate someone whose entire identity revolved around physical labor.
For a mechanic, hands weren't simply body parts.
They were tools.
Livelihood.
Purpose.
Finn understood that much already.
The problem was convincing Deck to understand it too.
The office door opened without warning.
Rebecca stepped inside carrying another stack of paperwork.
The nurse glanced at the file.
Then sighed dramatically.
"Your favorite patient?"
Finn smiled.
"He's growing on me."
Rebecca looked horrified.
"Why?"
The answer came easily.
Because despite everything, he found Deck interesting.
The mechanic acted angry.
Almost constantly.
Yet every medical note described the same thing.
He refused additional pain medication unless absolutely necessary.
He worried more about his apprentice than himself.
He cooperated whenever treatment affected someone else's well-being.
The pattern revealed something important.
People rarely noticed it because Deck made hostility easier to see.
Finn wasn't most people.
"He saved a kid."
Rebecca dropped into the chair across from him.
"So?"
Finn raised an eyebrow.
"So most people would've run."
The nurse considered that.
Then nodded reluctantly.
"Fair point."
The doctor closed the file.
"The rescue cost him everything he's built his life around."
Rebecca immediately understood.
The expression on her face softened.
Because everyone in town knew what Whitaker Auto & Salvage meant to Deck.
The garage wasn't simply a job.
It was his life.
His home.
His identity.
Losing the ability to work there would've shattered anyone.
Especially someone like him.
"Still grumpy."
"Obviously."
"Still rude."
"Absolutely."
Rebecca laughed.
"You're weird."
Finn chose to accept that as a compliment.
The nurse eventually left.
The office fell quiet once again.
His attention returned to the rehabilitation plan.
Several pages required updates.
Exercises.
Treatment goals.
Recovery timelines.
Everything needed to be tailored specifically for Deck.
The challenge wasn't creating the plan.
The challenge was convincing the patient to follow it.
The thought followed him all the way to the rehabilitation room.
Because forty minutes later, Deck arrived for another session looking exactly as irritated as expected.
The mechanic entered the room carrying enough attitude to fill the entire building.
His broad shoulders appeared tense.
His jaw remained tight.
The permanent scowl hadn't improved.
Apparently recovery wasn't helping his personality.
Finn tried not to smile.
Tried and failed.
The mechanic noticed immediately.
"What's funny?"
"Nothing."
Deck narrowed his eyes.
"You smiled."
"I do that sometimes."
The suspicious look deepened.
The doctor enjoyed it more than he should have.
Eventually Deck settled into the chair opposite him.
Carefully.
The movement revealed pain despite his efforts to hide it.
Most patients would've winced.
Deck simply became quieter.
Finn noticed anyway.
The evaluation began.
Routine questions.
Pain levels.
Mobility.
Sleep quality.
Progress.
Deck answered reluctantly.
Like every response physically offended him.
The pattern continued for nearly twenty minutes.
Until Finn asked the wrong question.
Or perhaps the right one.
"How are you handling not being at the garage?"
Silence followed.
Immediate.
Heavy.
The reaction told Finn everything.
Deck looked away.
Toward the window.
Toward the wall.
Anywhere except the doctor.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The question clearly mattered.
Which explained why the mechanic hated it.
"I'm fine."
The answer arrived too quickly.
Finn almost smiled.
Almost.
"I'm sure."
Gray eyes immediately snapped toward him.
The challenge became obvious.
The doctor met the stare calmly.
Neither spoke for several moments.
Then Deck sighed.
A frustrated sound.
"You always do that."
Finn blinked.
"Do what?"
"That."
Not helpful.
The mechanic gestured vaguely.
"Like you know when people are lying."
The observation caught him off guard.
Because it wasn't entirely wrong.
Years of patient care taught certain skills.
People often revealed more than they intended.
Especially when discussing things that frightened them.
"Occupational hazard."
Deck muttered something under his breath.
Probably not complimentary.
Finn decided not to ask.
The session continued.
Physical assessments.
Range-of-motion exercises.
Strength evaluations.
Everything progressed normally.
At least until the hand exercises began.
Then the mood shifted immediately.
The change proved impossible to miss.
Tension appeared.
Frustration followed.
Every movement became harder.
Slower.
More difficult.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Finn recognized the signs.
Deck wasn't angry at the exercises.
He was angry at what they represented.
The losses.
The limitations.
The uncertainty.
The doctor watched carefully.
The mechanic completed each task.
Every repetition.
Every exercise.
Every instruction.
Yet the frustration remained visible.
Growing stronger with every reminder of what he couldn't do.
Eventually one exercise went badly.
The fingers refused to cooperate properly.
Pain interrupted movement.
The task failed.
The room fell silent.
Deck stared at his hand.
Motionless.
The expression on his face lasted only seconds.
Most people would've missed it.
Finn didn't.
Because for a brief moment, anger disappeared.
Something else took its place.
Fear.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
Gone almost immediately.
But there.
The doctor felt his chest tighten unexpectedly.
Because suddenly everything made sense.
The hostility.
The resistance.
The constant arguments.
The refusal to discuss emotions.
Fear sat underneath all of it.
Fear of failure.
Fear of dependence.
Fear of becoming someone he didn't recognize.
The realization changed everything.
"Deck."
The mechanic looked up immediately.
Defensive walls already rebuilding.
"What?"
Finn chose his next words carefully.
Because some truths required gentleness.
Even with men who pretended otherwise.
"This recovery isn't a test."
Confusion appeared first.
Then suspicion.
The doctor continued.
"You don't pass or fail."
Silence.
"You recover."
The words settled between them.
Neither spoke.
The room remained quiet.
Outside, distant voices drifted through the hallway.
Life continued.
Inside, something shifted.
Small.
Subtle.
Important.
Deck looked away first.
Not angry.
Not this time.
Just tired.
The sight unexpectedly hurt.
Because for the first time, Finn truly saw the weight the mechanic carried.
Not the physical injuries.
The emotional ones.
The loneliness.
The isolation.
The burden of handling everything alone.
The realization lingered.
Long after the session ended.
Long after Deck stood to leave.
Long after another argument about scheduling followed.
Because even while complaining, Deck showed up.
Even while resisting, he tried.
Even while acting like the entire process irritated him, he kept coming back.
That mattered.
More than the attitude.
More than the arguments.
More than the scowl.
The mechanic reached the doorway.
Pausing briefly.
Neither man spoke.
Then Deck left.
The door closed behind him.
Silence returned.
Finn remained where he was.
Thinking.
Because something felt different now.
The reputation no longer matched the man.
Everyone talked about Declan Harlan like he was difficult.
Intimidating.
Gruff.
Mean.
All those things were true.
But they weren't the whole truth.
Not even close.
Underneath the rough exterior lived someone profoundly alone.
Someone terrified of losing the only life he'd ever built for himself.
Someone carrying enough fear to fill an entire room while pretending not to feel any at all.
And for the first time since arriving in Willow Ridge, Finn realized his most challenging patient wasn't fighting him.
Declan Harlan was fighting himself.
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