Chapter 3
THREE
Quinn
I wake with a gasp and a wince.
Pain radiates through my chest at the sharp inhale, and I blink away tears as I open my eyes.
Where am I? I think as I look around the plain white room.
A window is to my left, but all I can see are trees and bushes. Two doors are on my right, one of which is a bathroom. An annoying beep, beep, beep draws my attention, and I look up to see a monitor next to me. On it, numbers and lines blip, showing my heart rate and oxygen level.
Hospital. I’m in a hospital.
I remember now—the hike, the clearing, the loud bang, and the pain in my chest. I was shot.
Jesus, this vacation is already off to a rough start. I should have stayed in New York.
I take a shallow breath, testing what causes the pain in my chest to worsen. Breathing seems to be okay now, and I relax slightly.
It’s so quiet in here. The last time I was in a hospital, it was loud and chaotic.
I tripped over the uneven sidewalk and broke my wrist. I spent hours in the emergency room waiting to be seen, waiting for X-rays, and waiting to be discharged.
Through it all, People hurried in every direction as machines beeped steadily and announcements echoed over the PA.
Maybe it’s quiet here because this is such a small town. I can’t imagine them having too many patients here in Night Grove Falls.
I brace my hands on the mattress and try to sit up.
“Shit!” I shout when it feels like my side is being ripped open.
I startle as the door bangs open, and a handsome man bursts into the room, making a beeline for my side.
“Where does it hurt?” he asks.
I motion to my chest and right-hand side. “I tried to sit up,” I gasp.
“You should’ve called me. You shouldn’t be moving right now. It’s still too fresh.”
“Yeah, got that now,” I say weakly.
He pushes on my shoulders gently until I’m flat against the mattress. Grabbing the remote next to the bed, he hits a button, raising the back of the bed so that I’m sitting up.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
He nods. “That’s what I’m here for.”
I study him as he fusses over me. He’s handsome, polished, put together. And he seems very anxious as he looks me over, making me wonder just how bad my injuries are.
“Am I going to be okay?”
“Yeah, you’re fine,” he says reassuringly. “You lost a lot of blood, and the bullet did some damage, but I managed to … fix it. You’ll be sore and tired for a few days, but you’re going to be just fine.”
“You saved me? You were there?”
“Yeah. Good thing too. I carried you back here.”
“Thank you. I… thank you,” I choke out.
He gently brushes my tangled hair away from my face. “I’ll always take care of you.”
His wording is… strange, but I’m too busy wiping away my tears to comment or ask him about it.
“I need to take a look at your bandages.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“Yeah, sorry, I should’ve introduced myself sooner. I’m Dr. Christian McAdams.”
“Good to meet you, Dr. Christian McAdams. I’m Quinn Hastings.”
I raise my arm as he lifts my hospital gown slightly. My breath catches as his fingertips touch my skin, and we lock eyes. He seems so intense, and I could swear his eyes are almost glowing as he stares at me.
He rips his eyes away to check the bandages taped to my chest and side. “Looks good. No bleeding. How are you feeling?”
I grimace. “Sore. Tired. Kind of cold.”
“I’ll get you another blanket.”
He practically runs out of the room, returning a second later carrying three blankets.
“Is this a hospital?” I ask as he covers me up.
“Kind of. It’s more of a clinic. We have one operating room and two rooms set up for longer visits, but all the rooms up front are for checkups.”
“Small town. I guess you don’t need more.”
“Yeah, before I moved here, the nearest doctor’s office was an hour away.”
My eyebrows rise. “You started this?”
Dr. McAdams seems so successful, but he only looks a few years older than I am. How is he already a doctor with his own practice?
“Yeah. I moved here five years ago and set up the clinic.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Thanks.” He tucks the blankets around me. “You should get some more rest. I’ll be back with some food in a bit.”
“It’s weird,” I say, smiling slightly. “I thought getting shot would hurt more, but aside from the initial soreness and feeling cold and tired, I feel okay.”
“That may be the, uh, medicine,” he says, avoiding my eyes.
It’s like he’s not telling me the whole story.
“Doctor McAdams?” someone calls.
He looks torn, like he doesn’t want to leave me. “Be right there.”
He turns back to me, his expression anxious.
I smile. “I’m fine now. Thanks.”
He nods and takes a deep breath before he leaves my room. I watch him go and wonder about him.
He’s the first man who’s caught my attention.
I was always different from my peers. They had crushes on movie stars, boy bands, and classmates.
I never did. I could appreciate that some of them were attractive, but they did nothing for me.
I never daydreamed about any of them or drew love hearts around our names in my journals.
I never dated, not even in college. I was too busy getting perfect grades and trying to make my parents happy. Joke’s on me, though, because my parents paid no attention to me or my grades. Hell, maybe they would’ve taken more interest if I’d started failing classes, but I doubt it.
I close my eyes, hoping to get some more rest, but now I’m awake, I can’t go back to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Dr. McAdams.
Is he married? I should’ve looked for a ring. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s not like he’d be interested in someone like me. Besides, I’m sure that doctors aren’t allowed to date patients, and I’ll be going back to New York in a few days.
The door opens again, and Dr. McAdams reappears. He seems surprised to see me still awake.
My gaze darts to his hands, and I smile when I see no ring on his finger.
“Everything okay?” he asks, checking the monitors.
“Yeah. I, uh, I have to go to the bathroom. Is it okay for me to get out of bed?”
“Yeah, you should be good. I’ll help you. You need to take it slowly.”
He takes my hand, helping me swing my legs off the bed. I stand carefully, my legs trembling slightly. My chest aches a bit, but I can handle it. We shuffle toward the bathroom, and I grip the doorframe when we get close enough.
“This will have to stay by you,” he says, pushing the IV pole into the bathroom with me.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll be out here when you’re done.”
I nod and brace one hand on the bathroom sink as I move the IV pole out of the way. Looking up, I catch my reflection in the mirror and freeze. My eyes lock on the mark on my neck.
“Is that a… bite mark?” I whisper, frowning as I trail my fingers over the mark.
“What the hell happened to me?” I ask, turning to Dr. McAdams. “I thought I was shot.”
Guilt is etched into his features, and he swallows hard. “I can explain.”