Chapter 59
There wasn’t a single piece of machinery on God’s green earth I couldn’t tear down and build back stronger. At six-foot-nine and close to three hundred and fifty pounds of raw, tattooed muscle, my name wasn’t ironic. It was a warning to everyone else. Just never to myself.
I stayed hunched deep in the shadows of the courtyard; shoulders curled in like I was trying to fold myself right out of existence.
A reflex I’d spent twenty-one year’s perfecting: take up less space, don’t loom, don’t make anyone feel like you’re too much.
My hands shook so badly I could barely grip the chrome polishing rag, eyes fixed on the warm glowing windows of the new Maternal Wing like they held something I had no right to look at.
When Rose and Ivy walked past, my whole body locked up like I was made of stone.
I felt like a bull in a China shop, terrified one wrong shift, one loud breath, would shatter them both.
Every instinct screamed to make myself smaller, but some stupid, stubborn part of me also wanted to stand tall.
Every time I tried, all I felt was a monster waiting to break something.
“You’re going to rub the paint clean right off that gas tank, big guy.”
I jumped so hard I nearly dropped the rag, heart hammering right up into my throat.
Rage leaned against the iron support beam of the garage, arms crossed, that rare, wicked glint in his dark eyes – one of the few men here who didn’t look like a child stood next to me.
He knew every scar, every old ghost, every reason I spent my life trying to disappear.
“Just… checking the seals,” I grunted out, voice gravel-rough, dropping defensive and low by habit.
Rage chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the cool night air.
“The seals,” he repeated, tilting his head like he knew every thought spinning around mine.
“Funny how those seals only ever need checking right when the late shift changes over at the clinic. Danika said they’ve got a delivery of heavy medical crates turning up tonight.
Said the new midwife might need a hand hauling them down to basement storage. ”
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it felt like a piston misfiring, sharp and painful. The new midwife. Maeve.
I swallowed hard, jaw locking tight as I glanced back toward the clinic doors.
I’d seen plenty of beautiful women pass through these gates – but they always looked tiny, fragile, like dolls next to me.
I spent my whole life hunching, ducking, shrinking down so I wouldn’t scare anyone, so I wouldn’t be seen as the threat everyone always assumed I was.
But Maeve… she changed everything. The first time I spotted her at the hospital, she stood tall and sure, long elegant legs, sharp determined jawline, rich chestnut brown hair that looked like it held a thousand secrets.
And when she walked past the garage earlier, she didn’t glance at the floor, didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.
Those bright hazel eyes locked straight onto mine, met me almost eye-to-eye.
For the first time in twenty-one years, I didn’t feel like it was too much. I felt like I was finally being seen.
And it had completely unmoored me.
“Go on, brother,” Rage rumbled softer, his voice dropping into that rare, steady brotherly tone, giving my shoulder one heavy solid squeeze. “The ledger’s clear. Go carry the crates.”
I nodded once, slow, and stepped toward the double doors.
The new wing smelled of fresh cut lavender, and sharp clean linoleum.
I ducked my head instinctively under the frame – old habit – the heavy soles of my combat boots thudding slow and loud against the floorboards like a war drum.
My cut creaked against my shoulders with every breath, every inch of me feeling too big, too loud, too much for the bright quiet space.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
Her voice drifted out like smooth dark velvet, warm and steady, from the supply room at the back.
A second later, Maeve stepped into the corridor, a tall stack of newborn record folders tucked against her chest. She wore soft navy scrubs that fitted her perfectly, pulling all that long lean strength into view, her hair twisted up loosely at the back with a few strands falling free to frame her face.
When her eyes landed on me, she didn’t flinch. Didn’t widen in fear. Didn’t step back like every other person I’d ever met. She just smiled – slow, bright, breathtakingly warm, those hazel lights dancing with something I’d never seen directed at me before.
“Tiny, right?” she said softly, stepping closer without an ounce of hesitation.
At six-foot-two, the top of her head cleared my shoulder easily, and she tilted her chin just enough to meet my gaze dead-on.
It was the most grounding, steady feeling I’d ever had.
“It’s good to finally meet you properly. ”
“Aye,” I rumbled out, my voice cracking just a little. I cleared my throat, heat creeping high up into my ears. “Uh… Danika said you had some heavy boxes out back. Said you might need someone who knows how to handle the iron.”
Maeve laughed, soft and bright, and every last bit of tension coiled tight in my chest just melted away.
She set her folders down on the counter, turning that long lean frame toward me, standing so sure of herself it took my breath away.
“The delivery driver used a pallet jack, so they’re all stacked ready.
But…” She paused, gaze dragging slowly and appreciatively over my frame, and my heart kicked up all over again.
“I could definitely use some help getting them down to the storage room and up onto the shelves. If you don’t mind. ”
She could reach those shelves easily enough herself, I thought, dazed. But she was giving me something to do. Something I was good for.
“I don’t mind,” I blurted out way too fast, my big hands flexing at my sides like I didn’t know what to do with them. “I can lift whatever you need, Maeve.”
“I count on it,” she whispered softly, holding my gaze for a long electric heartbeat that sent my pulse rocketing right through the roof.