Scars We Didn’t See (What Went Wrong #2)

1. She Didn’t See What Could Be

She Didn’t See What Could Be

Lola

“I ain’t seein’ no lady doctor!”

The mechanic stood with his arms crossed, an oil-stained shirt stretched tight over his belly, and a scowl already carved into his weathered face.

Clutching the chart with his name on it to my chest, I nudged my gold-rimmed glasses up my nose. “Mr. Barnes—”

He snorted. He wasn’t listening.

This wasn’t exactly the start I’d hoped for.

I didn’t move, hiding under a limp blonde fringe, my shaky knees betraying my nerves.

The waiting room was too quiet, too quaint, for a medical clinic.

And as odd as the crocheted Welcome sign looked above the shelf of glossy pamphlets about flu shots and erectile dysfunction, I was the one thing in the room that didn’t quite belong.

And this man wasn’t about to let me forget it.

“Mr. Barnes, I know it’s my first day,” I said, relieved my voice didn’t shake as badly as my knees. “But I’ve been a GP for more than ten years—”

“You listen here, Lola from the City. March yourself back to your room and shut the door. I ain’t seein’ you.”

My fingers tightened around the chart, but I stayed quiet. He might have been the first patient to flat-out refuse to see me, but even the ones who shuffled in without protest watched me with an uneasy curiosity. My new neighbours paused every time I pushed open the gate of my cottage, too.

The locals were suspicious.

Of me.

Lola from the City. The newcomer. The outsider .

“Evan Barnes!” Brooke shot up from behind the reception desk. “Are you causing trouble in my waiting room?”

“Sit that perky rear down, Goldilocks,” he said. “You ain’t part of this.”

“Wanna bet?” She planted her hands on the hips of her stiff teal uniform. Her military precision running the clinic’s appointments clearly didn’t include any disruptions from him. “Look how busy we are this morning!”

My gaze skipped over the handful of people in the waiting room. One, two, three… Yep. Only four patients.

This was… busy?

At the clinic where I used to work in Sydney, just claiming a seat was a battle. Coughing, crying toddlers, and the hum of too many voices had overwhelmed me from the moment the doors opened.

Richmond was the opposite. Here, the quiet wasn’t just a relief—it was the point. It was why I’d chosen it.

Safely tucked at the bottom of the world, tourists trickled through the small town, snapping photos of the sandstone cottages and convict relics cradled by the Coal River Valley.

Only a thousand or so called this place home.

Three days ago, I’d slipped into town unnoticed, a single suitcase bumping along the path behind me, hoping to become one of them—despite every odd stacked against me by a man who’d made staying with him impossible.

I took a steadying breath. Apparently, I hadn’t run far enough to avoid men like him.

Evan still stood there, arms folded, unimpressed. Brooke tried again. This time, she dialled up the charm with her sweetest, red-lipped smile.

“You know we wouldn’t let any old city girl work here,” she said. “Dr. Hughes has a sensible head on her shoulders.”

Evan flopped onto a chair. “She can have ten heads on her shoulders. I ain’t seein’ her.” He grabbed a magazine and thumbed through the pages. “My rear’s parkin’ right here until the other doctor is free.”

And that was that. There was nothing left to say.

Sighing, I slunk down the corridor, opened the door to my room, and let it click shut behind me. My back hit the wall. I didn’t have the energy to lift my eyes, much less admire the space I’d so proudly decorated the day before.

My consultation room.

I’d never had much that was truly mine . Growing up, my older sister devoured the spotlight, testing my parents’ limits and breaking all the rules while I drifted unnoticed in her shadow. Later came medical school, then shared houses, and a string of failed relationships…

Until Chris.

But our terrace on the harbour had never been mine. Right down to the eggshell-coloured walls I’d mistakenly called white only once, that prison had only ever been his. He’d taken so much pleasure in reminding me I had nowhere else to go. I belonged to him.

But not anymore.

Decorating my room at the clinic had been a labour of love. A symbol of my fresh start. Of me.

With my sleeves pushed up and masking tape stuck to nearly every finger, I’d painted one wall a soft powder blue.

Cheerful prints hung in a neat line, and I’d set up a children’s nook in the corner—a tiny table, matching chairs, and boxes spilling with toys and picture books I’d bargain-hunted from the local buy-and-sell group.

The seller had dropped everything off at the clinic for me, and I’d offered extra for the delivery with a tray of freshly iced cupcakes as a thank you. I couldn’t afford more.

Pride bloomed in my chest each time I opened my purse and glimpsed the bank card tucked inside—the first I’d touched in years—but my account was empty.

Money disappeared fast on the run. A month hiding in cheap motels down the Australian coast, an airfare, rent, and one last basket of groceries had swallowed nearly every cent I’d stashed away.

My escape fund was gone. The only thing left in the bottom of the faded pink pillowcase was the engagement ring from a proposal I wished I’d never accepted.

But I could survive. I would .

My freedom from Chris was worth eating peanut butter sandwiches for another week.

I didn’t shuffle to my desk straight away. I stayed standing, letting the quiet of the room hold me for a moment. Even if I hadn’t earned my patient’s trust just yet, I’d earned the right to pause and take a breath, at least.

A knock rattled the door before it creaked open.

Brooke poked her head in. “Got a sec?” Without waiting for an answer, she stepped inside.

My fingers twisted the faded pleats of my black skirt. “I’m sorry I let you down—”

“What are you going on about, Doc? You haven’t let anyone down!”

“But the patients…” I bit my lip.

“Are acting as difficult as they do for any new face in town. I’ve been here a year, and people still joke about me being a blow-in.”

“Really?”

“Cross my heart. Look, I know this morning has been a hot bag of garbage juice, but your afternoon will be busy. Believe me.”

I flicked a look at the computer. “There aren’t many appointments scheduled in…”

“ Yet . I’ve got about ten sticky notes I’m still juggling!

The phone started ringing off the hook for women’s health checkups since word got out you’re here.

Wait.” Brooke’s mouth dropped open as some realisation hit her.

“Does this mean you’ll end up seeing everyone’s vag in town?

” A faint line settled between her brows. “Is that weird?”

“It is now you said it.” I laughed. “It may shock you to know I’ve seen one or two before.”

She grinned. “How many crusty old dicks have you seen?”

“If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” She rolled her eyes. “Well, thanks to the biggest dick on this side of Tasmania, you have a twenty-minute break before your next appointment. Make the most of it.”

“I suppose I could get started on those blood results—”

“What? No!” She barricaded me from getting closer to the computer.

“Forget those! Grab a tea or coffee.” She shooed me to the door.

“I’ll have you know I splurged on the expensive coffee pods this week, and I even managed not to scoff all the fancy biscuits the ladies from the church dropped off for you. ”

“For…me?” Biting back a smile, my eyes danced around the scuffed toes of my ballet flats, but my heart floated somewhere in the clouds. “That’s very kind of them.”

Brooke snorted a laugh. “Don’t let your guard down just yet.

Those scheming old ducks always have an ulterior motive.

They’re probably trying to win you over so you’ll agree to a date with one of their grandsons.

But if you need a protector against the grannies of the valley, I’m officially on duty!

” She saluted me with a wink before darting a guilty look at the door.

“Right after I check in the next patient.”

Brooke disappeared to reception, and I took the quieter route, slipping down the maze of corridors towards the break room hidden at the very back.

A cup of tea would hit the spot. What type of fancy biscuits did church ladies bake?

Something sweet and crumbly with fluffy icing in the middle?

I pushed open the door. Maybe I could sneak one—

“Oh!”

My eyes widened as I sucked in a panicked breath—or, at least, I tried to. My lungs locked up. I stumbled back a step, then another, until I collided with the wall, spine first.

A man crowded the other side of the room.

Not just any man.

A beast of a man.

He was tall, with broad shoulders wrapped in a red-checked flannel shirt, the sleeves folded up to reveal muscular forearms dusted with dark hair.

Actually, he had lots of dark hair everywhere—thick and wavy on his head, tamed on his brows, but slightly bushy on his beard.

He had grey eyes, though, and they tracked me as I crept along the wall, my hand fumbling along the tiles, desperately searching for the doorknob.

The man cleared his throat. The rough noise forced my eyes down.

Someone. Help me.

My pulse picked up. I had to get out of there. That man would snap me like a twig. He’d crush me even if I stood as proud and strong as the ancient eucalyptus dotted through the valley.

“We’re just…” Sounding almost nervous, his voice trailed off.

I dared to lift my eyes again. The man had worked himself into the opposite corner of the room, his gaze fixed on his tan work boots. Uneasy, almost as if his heart thumped as fast as mine, he hopped a white tile from hand to hand.