The Doctor's Do-Over

“Late this afternoon.”

“I don’t mean that I was coming down—”

“Not talking about that.”

“You really had no idea?”

“Nope.”

“Wow,” she said on a strangled half laugh, her breath misting around her face. “I can’t believe they actually took it that far. I assumed you knew.”

Ryder raised his arms to flip the collar of his jacket up around his neck. “Because I never contacted you again?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head, then thrust his hands into his pockets. “That wasn’t the reason.”

When no further explanation seemed to be forthcoming, Mel wandered out underneath the gazebo-like structure at the end of the marina to fold her arms across the top railing, deeply inhaling the tangy, bone-chilling breeze. Moonlight flicked at the black, rippling water below. Pretty. When Ryder mimicked her pose, the wind ruffling his short, dark hair, she said, “I can’t even imagine how ticked you must be right now.”

“No. You can’t.” He glanced at her. “My folks said Jeremy knows.”

“He always has.”

“And he’s never—?”

“Nope. Far as he’s concerned Quinn never happened.” He leaned harder on the railing to press his head into his palms, then dropped them again. “Does she ask? About her father?”

“Until recently? Not as much as you might think. Although …” Mel forced air into her lungs, annoyed that she still felt like she was breathing through broken glass. “I was seriously involved with someone for two years. Thought … this was it. He was it. Quinn became very attached. Enough that she didn’t ask about her daddy because she’d assumed she’d found one.”

“This isn’t going to end well, is it?”

And there it was, despite everything, that same kindness and understanding that had seen her through her entire childhood, that made her eyes sting even now. “His ex popped back into his life. And right into the bastard’s bed, apparently. Turns out he’d never really gotten over her. Our virtually living in each other’s pockets notwithstanding. Although …” She twisted to lean one elbow on the railing, looking at Ryder. “He did offer to make me a partner. In his restaurant,” she added at Ryder’s quick frown.

“After …?”

“Oh, as in, right on the heels of. Consolation prize, yay,” she said, then hmmphed. “Guess he figured that was the least he could do. Considering it was my mad cooking skills that’d made the place as successful as it was.”

A hint of a smile played across Ryder’s mouth. “And you walked.”

“As fast as these cute little feet could carry me.”

“Good for you.”

“In theory, sure. In practical terms, not so much. Oh, I’ve managed, working for caterers off and on, but nothing’s come along that even begins to compare. I really, really loved that job. Made me stretch as a chef, try new things. And the partnership would’ve been an incredible opportunity. If I’d had a heart made of stone.”

“How long ago was this?”

“A few months,” she said, even though the date was indelibly, and regrettably, forever etched in her brain. “Dammit, Ry—I never saw it coming. Neither did Quinn. And it was especially hard on her since my mother died last year. She and Quinn were extremely close, as you can imagine.”

“Damn, honey. I’m sorry.”

Mel nodded, then said, “Quinn’s just now getting over it, I think. Hope. The breakup, I mean. She doesn’t mention it, in any case.”

“And you?” he said gently.

“I alternate between numb and mad-as-hell. Although I’m at least through the eating anything that isn’t nailed down stage.” She sighed. “But now that we’re once again in daddyless mode, yeah, Quinn’s started asking about her father. Not a subject I’m wild about discussing when I’m not wishing bad things on half the human population. Best I could come up with was telling her he vanished before she was born, he didn’t know she was coming, that I have no idea where he is. How to find him.”

“You lied?”

She snorted a humorless laugh. “How do you tell a child her father really didn’t want her? That his parents paid me off to never contact him, or show my face in St. Mary’s, ever again? And how in God’s name …” She swallowed. “How do I explain that her mother was every bit as complicit in this little scheme as the people who’ve been paying her hush money since before she was born?”

“Mel, for God’s sake—you were sixteen.”

“Seventeen, by the time she arrived. But yeah. Even so, I can’t pretend I didn’t know what I was doing. That I’d more or less sold my soul—or at least, my integrity—in order to provide for my child. And it’s eating me up, living this lie.”

Expelling a harsh sigh, Ryder grasped the railing, not looking at her. “Not any more than it’s eating me up, that when you get right down to it, this is all my fault.”

“And how on earth do you figure that?”

“So you didn’t hook up with Jeremy to get back at me?”

It was funny, really, if you thought about it: years of experience had taught Mel that few human males seemed ready, or able, to accept responsibility for anything. At least, the human males in her experience. To the point where she’d forgotten that Ryder had probably been the most responsible human being she’d ever met. Except, because Ryder had been stalwart and noble and honorable as all hell, in a convoluted way he had a point.

“Didn’t say that,” she said at last. “But it’s ridiculous to blame you for my actions. No matter what I might have told myself at the time.” She paused, then breathed out, “Please don’t hate me, Ryder. Since I still hate myself plenty enough for both of us.”

Ryder’s chest constricted at the self-deprecation trying so damn hard to undermine Mel’s tough bunny persona. He looked away, giving her the space she clearly wanted. And he needed. Because he had no idea how to bind up her wounds when his own were still so fresh.

Even as the old compulsion reared its head, refusing to be ignored.

“How could I possibly hate you when I’m the one who botched things so badly—”

“What you did was save me from making an idiot of myself.” Her mouth twisted. “At least, that night.”

Acid flared in his gut. “Still. I could’ve handled the situation with a bit more … grace. And afterwards … I should have called. Emailed, something. To check on you, make sure you were okay. I mean, I owed you that much.”

“Owed me?” Mel gave him a puzzled look. “You didn’t—don’t—owe me anything—”

“You were grieving, Mel. Whatever else might have been going on, you came to me for comfort, and instead of figuring out how to give you what you really needed I pushed you away. Harshly, if memory serves. So you can’t possibly be beating yourself up more than I am. On that score, I figure we’re probably about even—”

Her sharp laugh caught him up short. “Did you really think my actions that night were solely motivated by grief? Yeah, that might’ve short-circuited my inhibitors, but I wanted you because I wanted you.” She looked away. “Because I was sick to death of being treated like a little sister. Stupid, huh?”

Ryder looked up into the navy sky before saying, very quietly, “Then you have no idea how much of a struggle it was to turn you down.”

He felt her eyes on the side of his face for several beats before a soft, startled laugh fell out of her mouth. “Holy crap. Are you serious?”

“Yep. And you can stop laughing,” he said, even as chagrin pushed at the corners of his own mouth. Then he sighed. “All our lives, I thought of myself as your protector. A role I took very seriously—”

“Tell me about it.”