watched the door swing shut behind her, one question filling his head—what in the bloody hell was he supposed to do?
If he asked her to quit the team and she did, she’d resent him the rest of her life. If he’d ever had any doubts about that, they were gone. Seeing the guys and hearing about their call-outs over the past few weeks had taught Quinn that lesson. Hannah wouldn’t be able to send him off to work every day and not go herself. She’d end up hating him.
He could say nothing and let Bobby fire her, but what kind of man would do that? Hannah had worked as hard as Quinn had to get where she was. If she ever learned he’d known about this and didn’t warn her, she’d leave him.
Of course, if Quinn couldn’t go back, none of this mattered one way or the other. He’d be forced to stay at home and watch her go to work every day. His only contribution would be his disability checks. Would they even be enough to support her and the children she wanted so badly? How would Hannah feel being tied to a man who couldn’t do his job? Would her love turn to pity? He had no intention of seeing that happen, but what if…
It was a lose-lose situation. An answer didn’t exist that wouldn’t hurt one of them.
An ache went through Quinn’s heart that made his physical pains feel like mere twinges. One of them had to give up the job.
The weekend came, and he still hadn’t told Hannah he was scheduled to be released. As she prepared to leave Sunday, he pulled her to him and held her close. The smell of her skin was as heady as always. For a moment, all he could think about was how to prolong the inevitable. Then he accepted the fact that he had no choice, he had to say something. He looked down at her and tried to etch the moment into his mind, telling himself the words to convince her would come to him. He’d been able to find them a thousand times in the past—why wouldn’t he find them now?
“I love you, Hannah.”
He wondered about the sadness in her eyes, but dismissed it when she reached up and put her hands on his cheeks. “I love you, too, Quinn. And that’s why we’ve got to talk….”
QUINN AGREED INSTANTLY and led her toward the edge of his bed, tugging her hand until she sat down beside him. Hannah’s heart stung with a physical pain. In the past, she’d thought people were exaggerating when they talked about heartbreaks, but now she understood.
Lying in her bed the night before, listening to a hard rain pound the roof and thinking about the funeral, she’d decided the time had come. She had a dream, and if she wanted to fulfill it, then she had to set the plans in motion. She had to. No one else was going to do it for her. Not even Quinn, as much as he loved her and she loved him.
As she wondered how to explain this to him, he surprised her by speaking first. “I’m glad you want to talk because I want to, too. I’ve been thinking a lot about everything that happened. We have dangerous jobs, Hannah, and this has made me aware of that fact even more than I was before.” He flicked his hand toward the hospital bed and all the medical equipment. “I ended up here…but it could have just as easily been you.”
“I know that,” she admitted. “In fact, I had my own realization…at the funeral. When I was sitting there, staring at those little coffins, I saw the truth. It could have been you lying up there at the front of the church instead of those poor kids.” She took a deep breath. “I knew what I was getting into when I joined the team, but…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I really understood until that moment.”
He had twined their fingers together, and in the silence that followed he looked down at their hands. When he didn’t answer or say anything, she reached over with her free hand and gently touched his cheek. “Quinn?”
He raised his eyes to hers, and something tightened inside her. She recognized the feeling as a warning, but for what, she had no idea.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the past two years, Hannah. Our careers aren’t like anyone else’s,” he said. “And I’m not just talking about danger. What we do is incredibly intense. We have to be one hundred percent ‘on’ all the time. We can’t accomplish what we need to with our brains half engaged—I’ve had friends who did that, and they paid for it with their lives.”
“I understand that…now,” she said quietly.
Since the accident, his voice had become harsher. The new tone made his next words sound all that more ominous.
“You say that, but do you really? I’ve been told your mind isn’t on the job. You’ve been distracted by me and everything else.”
She knew immediately where he was going and flared, not because he knew but because someone had taken it upon themselves to inform him. “You’re talking about the pipe bombs, aren’t you? Who told you?” When he didn’t answer—and she knew he wouldn’t—she went on, hiding her anger. “I made a mistake, Quinn, and I know it. I was waiting until you got stronger and then I was going to tell you about it myself. But I can promise you it won’t happen again.”
“You can make that kind of promise, sweetheart, but bad things can still happen.”
She’d given the accident a lot of thought, and when she’d calmed down, she’d come to see that was exactly what it had been—an accident. Everyone made them; she’d just have to be more careful. She looked at him levelly. “I was tired and I screwed up. I made a mistake, but that’s all it was.”
He stood suddenly. She did the same, and he reached out to grip her shoulders. Normally his touch would have brought heat with it, but this time a cold distance rose between them. Hannah shivered as another bad feeling rippled down her back.
“It was more than a mistake, Hannah. You could have been badly hurt…or even worse. If we’re going to make this work, then something has got to change.”
“Like what?”
He hesitated, then spoke carefully. “Maybe it’s time for one of us to leave the team.”
Her vague anxieties suddenly crystallized into something hard and cold. It lodged itself in her chest as she understood what had happened. Bobby was the one who’d told Quinn about the incident and Bobby was the one who’d put this thought in Quinn’s head. That fact registered, then fled. Bobby wasn’t the important one here. “Is that what you think should happen?”
“We’ve worked together for two years,” he hedged. “I’d like to think we could continue. But…”
“But this makes you more sure than ever that we shouldn’t have a family.”
He didn’t have to answer. The truth was in his eyes.
In the hall outside, a cart rumbled past. Dinner had arrived and was being distributed. Hannah felt nauseous as the smell of food wafted into the room.
Quinn stared and waited for her to say something.
“I can’t do this any more,” she said abruptly, rising and stepping away from him.
“That’s fine,” he said. “We can talk later if you like—”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.” She waved her hands between them. “I’m talking about this. I’m talking about you and me. I can’t do it any longer.”
A
