The Man Who Wouldn't Marry

For the longest moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear her gaze from his. No one ever called her Sam.

No one, except Mark.

And she had the distinct impression the broken thing he was asking about had nothing to do with his hand and everything to do with her. No, that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t cared one iota about the damage he’d caused when he’d taken off without so much as a ‘Why?’.

She shook her head, but had to avert her eyes as she did. ‘Let me see your hand.’

He held it out, and she winced at the long diagonal stripe of discoloration already showing up just below his metacarpophalangeal joints. He must have had his hand wrapped around the frame of the door when she’d leaned against it. ‘Wiggle your fingers.’

He obliged, and Sammi watched for a reaction as he curled his fingers into a loose fist and released them. Only there was no reaction. ‘It doesn’t hurt?’

‘It was slammed in a door. What do you think?’

The amused sarcasm was back in place. She decided not to rise to the bait this time. ‘Palm up.’

It was only when he turned his hand over that she realized she was avoiding touching him. But she was going to have to eventually. She’d have to X-ray his hand at the very least.

Suck it up, Sammi.

Sliding her fingertips beneath the back of his hand and desperately wishing she’d gone for the gloves after all, she tested the swelling on his palm with her thumb. ‘I don’t think anything is broken, but I do want to take an X-ray.’

She glanced up, surprised to find a muscle tic in his jaw. ‘That bad?’ she asked.

‘You have no idea.’

‘Hmm…’ She looked closer at his hand, turning it gently. Maybe there was more damage than she’d thought. ‘Follow me.’

Leading him into the tiny X-ray room, she fitted him with a lead apron, forbidding herself from thinking about exactly what she was protecting. She lined up his hand on the table and used the flexible arm on the X-ray tube to pull it down over the injured area, glad to be able to keep her mind on the job. ‘I should be able to get this all on one frame, but if not, we’ll take a couple more. Hold still for a second.’

She went into the control booth and took the first film, then rejoined him, swinging the tube away from his hand. ‘All done. Let’s see what we’ve got.’ A thought occurred to her as she pressed buttons on the computer to call up the image. ‘Why did you come to the clinic anyway? Are you sick?’

The correct X-ray flashed up, and Sammi zeroed in on the injured portion, not seeing any obvious breaks. Before she could heave a sigh of relief, though, several areas of calcification on his middle phalanges caught her attention. Fractures. Each apparently healed and running across his hand in a line. If not for the location of the bruise from where she’d slammed the door, Sammi would swear she was looking at his current injury. Except these were old. Already fused together.

As she stared, trying to work out how he could have broken a succession of bones like that, Mark’s voice came through. ‘I’m not sick. I came by to tell you I’m…’

His voice faded away as her eyes met his, horrified realization sweeping through her chest. ‘Oh, my God, Mark. Did your father do this to you?’

CHAPTER THREE

IT TOOK a second or two for Sammi’s words to filter through his head and another few to register the horror in her eyes. How had she…?

His gaze went to the X-ray still displayed on the computer screen, and he knew what she’d seen. Hell, the days of his father’s anger were long gone, replaced by things that were a whole lot worse. And the last thing he wanted now was her—or anyone’s—pity. ‘Is the damn thing broken or not?’

‘Not this time, but—’

‘That’s all I needed to hear.’ He did not want to relive the moment when reining in his temper—and being too stubborn to run—had resulted in a steel-toed boot crunching down on his hand, snapping four of the teenage bones with little effort. Sammi had asked about his father once in high school, and he’d blown her off—just like he had everyone. ‘As I was saying, I came by because I’m flying some customers back to Anchorage this afternoon. I thought I’d see if the clinic needed me to pick up any supplies from Alaska Regional while I’m there. I didn’t realize… I thought today was Hannah’s day to work.’

He swore at himself the second the words had left his mouth. There was no reason to let her know he’d been avoiding her or that the need to stay as far away from her as possible had grown since enduring Blake’s wedding. He’d caught a glimpse of what his life could’ve been like had things been different. If he’d given Sammi that ring.

But he hadn’t.

So he’d keep doing what had worked for him over the past eight years: put one foot in front of the other. No reason to think it wouldn’t keep on working. In fact, he was due for his weekly trip to the local watering hole. Since he was going to Anchorage anyway, he could kill two birds with one stone. And hopefully stave off the nightmares, which had come back with a vengeance after holding Toby’s hand that evening in church.

‘Hannah went to Akutan for the day. I offered to fill in for her.’ Sammi’s words were accompanied by a tilt of her chin, but he could swear a tiny glimmer of hurt appeared in her eyes before it winked back out.

He swore silently. This was exactly why he needed to stay away from her at all costs. She could knot his insides into a big ball of guilt without even trying. ‘Right. So, can you think of anything you—the clinic, that is—needs?’

She stood to her feet. ‘Nope. I—and the clinic—have everything we could possibly need.’

Well, that certainly put him in his place. Sammi had just let him know, in no uncertain terms, that the last thing she needed was him.

The state ferry chugged through the dark waters of the Gulf of Alaska, the rumble of its engines sending subtle vibrations along the length of the vessel. The noise was familiar, comforting. She’d made the trip from Unalaska to Anchorage hundreds of times over the years—the intricate tangle of the Alaska Marine Highway routes burned into her subconscious.

Elbows propped against the railing, Sammi glanced down at Toby. ‘Are you cold?’ Worried that the chilled air might irritate his bronchial tubes, her gloved hand went to the pocket of her down jacket for the hundredth time, making sure the precious inhaler was within close reach. It was one of the reasons she always reserved a cabin onboard for the two-day trip—despite the extra cost—rather than pitch a tent on the deck like other travelers often did. Especially as the summer air gave way to the frigid gusts of late fall.

‘I like being out here.’ Toby’s words were muffled by the scarf Sammi had draped across his nose and mouth in an effort to keep the air as warm as possible.

The trip to see Toby’s father was one she always dreaded. Not only because she hated to be away from her son but because the trip meant she wouldn’t have access to her clinic or a hospital during the time it took to get from one place to the other. And flying was an expense she couldn’t afford. Toby’s father was footing the bill for the trip by water as it was.

You could have asked Mark to take you.

Right. After he’d stalked from the clinic two weeks ago?

She had been wrong to bring up his father, but the words had flown from her mouth before she’d been able to stop them. She doubted many people knew what he’d gone through as a kid, and he’d never openly admitted it to anyone. Even when they’d been together, Mark had avoided talking about his dad. But she’d seen little clues here and there, and she knew in her heart of hearts her hunch was right.

But to say the words out loud…

She cringed. If things between them had been bad before her outburst, they were a hundred times worse now.

The figurative arctic freeze they’d retreated into was more palpable than the real thing—on the open deck of the ferry. If anyone was going to break that frosty silence, it would be him. Not that there was much of a chance of cracking through all those layers without some kind of major thaw. And after more than eight years of icy accumulation, Sammi didn’t see that happening.

Her thoughts went back to the X-ray and her initial horror at seeing those old breaks. Once the shock had faded, though, her brain had clicked into gear and worked through some other possibilities. He could have broken his hand in any number of ways. Like having it slammed in a door in a similar fashion to what had happened at the clinic. Only she would have expected one bone to have cracked in that case. Not four. The X-ray she’d taken had been merely a precaution.

Had he gotten them as a result of his military service? Because he hadn’t come to the clinic with any injuries since he’d returned to Dutch Harbor—and she didn’t remember seeing a cast on him during that time.

He’d never spoken of those years in the navy to anyone on the island, or word would have gotten back to her. Surely Blake knew something. They’d served in the military at the same time. But Blake seemed just as close-mouthed about that period in his life as Mark did. They’d both been pilots in Afghanistan, dangerous work, but Mark had never once bragged, even to impress any of the local girls, which shocked her. She couldn’t think of a better way to pick up women than to present yourself as a bad-boy hero who thrived on danger.

In fact, he didn’t mention his past at all, something she found a little strange, now that she thought about it. She’d talked about the stuff that had happened in her life on a regular basis, from cute childhood moments to embarrassing tales of teen stupidity. Even her father’s history of running around on her mother was common knowledge on the island, much to her mom’s keen embarrassment.

‘Will it be snowing at the zoo?’

Sammi’s mind switched back to the present, and she smiled down at her son, her heart swelling with love. ‘I hope not.’ Doubly so because Toby’s father had always seemed slightly irritated at the limitations placed on their son due to his asthma. A die-hard sports fan, Brad often hinted that Toby’s condition wouldn’t be as bad if Sammi didn’t coddle him so much.

But she didn’t. At least, she didn’t think she did. What else was she supposed to do when he was gasping and wheezing for breath? Tell him to ‘man up’ and deal with it?

It was another reason she’d always accompanied Toby on these trips, rather than just ask Brad to come to the island and pick him up. It’s not like her ex didn’t have the money to fly over for their bi-weekly visits. Neither did she begrudge Toby the time with his father. Brad was a good man, and a decent father—at least he’d never begged off having Toby come and see him—but Sammi also wanted to be somewhere close, in case something went terribly wrong. So she’d sit in a hotel room all day while Brad, along with his new wife and daughter, took Toby on their usual one-day jaunt. She’d stare at her cellphone and will it not to ring. But Toby had always been dropped off at the end of the day healthy, happy, and singularly untraumatized. He never knew his mother went to hell and back until he was delivered safely into her care once again.

At least she and Molly—who’d come back from her honeymoon a week ago—could go out and enjoy a meal. If her friend was off duty for the day. And if she could drag herself away from Blake long enough for them to get in some girl time.