I don't know how, but Sam ends up in the examination room with me. They cart me back there in a wheelchair, instead of my own personal man shaped transportation. Less fun, more practical. Sam wheels me back, and before he can leave, the nurse hands him a paper nightgown for me, and directs him to "help your wife to change into this."

"Alright, wife. Take 'em off." He raises an eyebrow at me as he holds up the thin paper gown. I scowl at him, and swipe the gown from his out stretched hands.

"I can do it. Can you just help me onto the table? And then turn your back, please." I say primly. As if the man hasn't already seen me in all my disheveled glory. Sam rolls his eyes, but gives me half a smirk, and then leans down and lets me use him as a crutch to get up and move toward the padded table.

"Pretty cushy office he's got here. Look! A Monet print. Means he's classy and a world weary traveler." Sam grumbles out, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He says it all quickly, and under his breath as he helps me move, which makes me laugh.

"You sound like a fan of Dr. Evan Green."

"Hardly."

I smile to myself, as Sam turns and stares at the wall like he's focusing on a Magic Eye.

"The last time I saw Evan, we exchanged a few words." I say in a loud whisper.

"I remember."

"What if he refuses to help me?" I undo the button and zipper on my pants, and then realize I'm going to need help taking off my shoes first. I sigh, chewing hesitantly on my lip.

"He won't refuse to help you. Isn't that against his oath, as a doctor?" Sam says, his back still to me.

"As a doctor maybe, but not as my ex douchebag fiance." I groan. I purse my lips, debating what I'm about to say next. Sam is shifting back and forth on his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Sam?" I sigh. He tilts his head but doesn't say anything.

"Can you help me? I can't take my shoes off by myself." I ask softly. He turns, slowly, and then walks over without a word and bends down in front of me. My ankle is already badly swollen. He touches my leg carefully, trying his best not to pull as he helps me untie my chucks and pull off the shoe. I wince, clenching my jaw as the pain shoots through my leg.

"Sorry, love." He murmurs absentmindedly, as he tosses my shoe on an extra chair.

"It's okay. Thank you." I manage. "I have to take off my pants." I swallow and take a deep breath.

"Nothing I haven't seen before." He stands up, squaring his shoulders and looking at me with an amused, expectant look on his face. I blush, not able to help it and then shake my head at him, scolding.

"I just...need help getting them off."

"Right." He nods. "Done that before too." He adds, and shove him hard on the shoulder.

"This is serious, Sam." I furrow my eyebrows and he nods, giving me a similar expression. It makes me smile, despite myself.

"I'm being serious." He says without a smile.

"I can't move my leg and ankle enough to reach them to pull them off." I clarify. I immediately wonder what underwear I'm wearing. I'm pretty sure it's a rather boring pair. I suppose I didn't wake up this morning considering the fact that I'd be showing my knickers to my ex lover and my current lover. And extra points! Both at the same time. Fantastic. Should have worn my assless chaps because I'm nothing if not unpredictable.

"Alright, godspeed." He motions with his hand, and then leans toward me. I lift up one hip, wincing gingerly as the weight puts pressure on where I landed on the ground. I shimmy out of my jeans, and then rock to the other side, sliding them down over my hips. Sam acts rather gentleman-like, and averts his eyes as best as possible.

When I'm ready, he slides my jeans off the rest of the way, doing his best to pull them gently off my right foot.

"Damn, girl." He looks up then, moving to the side as he leans over, his focus on my upper thigh. I wince, and shift to the side, looking at what he's looking at. I lift my shirt to see better and gasp at the view.

My hip, all the way to my ass, is bruised deep purple and blue. A huge circular bruise darkens it's way across my thigh.

"Holy shit."

"I knew you fell hard but..."

"I think I need some ice." I say lamely. Sam raises an eyebrow at me and chuckles softly.

"You're gonna need some drugs if you want to be able to move tomorrow." He frowns and I sigh.

There's a soft knock at the door, which makes both of us freeze as if we've been caught with our hands in the cookie jar.

"Come in." I say, quickly wrapping myself up in the flimsy paper gown. Sam steps to the side, waiting. It could be my imagination but its almost as if he's coiled up-- like a snake, waiting to attack.

Evan walks in looking like a hipster doctor Ken doll. Handsome and smug and plastic as hell. His dark hair is pulled back. He's clean shaven, and is wearing a smart looking blue dress shirt and dark blue trousers under his white lab coat. It is surreal to see him here, now. In charge of his own practice. Something we'd talked about for years and years. A dream finally realized, and yet I'm no longer part of that dream.

"Max." He looks surprised, though he shouldn't be. He has the chart right in front of him. Max Trink. 28. 1 hundred and fluhfluhfluh pounds. Single. Not currently able to mingle.

"Hi, Evan." I say, raising my chin slightly and trying to hide my annoyance that I have to be here. The last time I saw him, I threw a drink in his face. I hope he'll still give me the good drugs.

Evan looks from me, to Sam, and then back at me. Waiting for an introduction.

"You look familiar." Evan narrows his eyes at Sam. Sam is standing in a wide stance, his arms crossed over his chest. He narrows his eyes back at Evan and doesn't respond.

"Um, this is my friend, Sam. He's helping me...with the old house." I manage lamely. Totally unnecessary to mention the old house, but we all know I tend to ramble. Judging from the territorial vibes Sam is giving off, my explanation of his being here seems rather silly.

"Have we met before?" Evan asks, basically ignoring my response. Sam looks bored.

"I stayed at your family's B&B." Sam replies. I knew Sam had been there-- stayed there before he'd made it to Brush River, but I didn't know they'd interacted. The idea that these two ever existed in the world, near each other, makes me feel strange.

"Right. That wasn't so long ago." Evan turns to me. "Wow, Max, you move fast."

I should respond, but I'm too shocked to find my voice. I fight the urge to jump off the table, ankle be damned, and slap him.

"Not as fast as you, apparently." Sam replies, and I feel my eyes get huge. I could almost kiss him for his response. Evan pauses and the silence is deafening. The stand off is real. And it serves Evan right.

"So what seems to be the issue, Max?" Evan turns to me, deciding that he doesn't want to fight the good fight with Sam.

"I fell and did something to my ankle. And my ass." I blink. Evan nods, walking over and leaning down in front of me. He sits down on a nearby stool and reaches for my ankle. I stiffen, and clench my teeth as his cold hands touch my skin.

"You fell? Where did you fall?" He asks, as he starts poking and prodding with his hands. I wince.

"In the field by the farm off the square. I was finishing up with the festival decorations." I say. Evan nods.

"By yourself?"

"No, Sam was with me."

"Why was Sam with you?" I frown, and swallow hard.

"Because he was helping with decorations." I say stiffly.

"I see." Evan takes a deep breath. "Can you ask your bodyguard, I mean Sam, to give us a minute?" He asks. I glance at Sam, who has his jaw clenched so hard I can see every muscle in his neck. I nod at him, and a moment later he gives in, and stalks from the examination room.

"Don't, Evan." My tone is warning.

"I just want to make sure you're ok. Did he do this?" Evan asks, and I burst into laughter. Not the funny ha-ha kind either.

"Thanks for caring, for once, Evan. But no, I can promise you that this was all my clumsiness." I say leaning back. "Dr. Harrington is on his annual fishing trip, otherwise I wouldn't even be here, believe me." I add. Evan stands up, looking at me sternly.

"He's not the sort of guy I ever pictured you with." He says. "You ought to be careful." I take a deep breath.

"Who? Dr. Harrington? You're right, he's a little out of my league--"

"Max. I mean Sam." He says, his voice short and clipped. I roll my eyes, looking away as I shake my head.

"You know nothing about Sam." I say, my voice cold. Evan shrugs.

"Take one look at him--"

I cut him off, holding a hand up, silencing him.

"And the reason you've never pictured me with anyone is because you were supposed to only have ever pictured me with you. That is until you were too busy sticking your dick in my best friend. You may not understand this concept, but Sam is my friend. And a good one at that. And at least he treats me like a person. With feelings and...he'd never..." I can't finish my sentence. I know what I want to say, but I feel like Evan is not the person I should be saying it to.

"Can you just be a doctor? That's all I'm here for. That's all I will ever want to see you for, ever again. And even then, it'll be last resort. Can you at least do that for me? Don't you at least owe me that?" I say with a deep, heavy sigh. Evan is quiet for a moment and then he nods. The air is tense between us. Tense and sad.

"Right. Let's get some x-rays. I think it's just a sprain." Evan doesn't waste time then, filling out forms and getting what he needs, before leaving the room.

It doesn't take long to get the x-rays, and to find that it is just a sprain. Evan sends me home with a brace, some awkward crutches, strong painkillers, and a recommendation for an ice pack for the huge bruise on my thigh.

Sam drives me home, and we stay in silence the whole way there. We're both tired. Physically and emotionally. Probably more emotionally for me. I can't stop thinking about things. Seeing Evan. How I felt nothing for him, other than the annoyance of seeing him. How I no longer wanted answers, I just wanted him out of my face. How I felt oddly protective of Sam. Of our relationship, whatever that was. And how I didn't want Evan to have anything to do with it. He tainted everything he touched in my life. I didn't want that anymore.

When we pull up to the house, it's not terribly late, but it feels like it could be 2 or 3 in the morning.

"Carry you in?" Sam asks, putting the truck into park. I nod, grabbing all my things. He slides out and comes around to the passenger side. We are like old pros at this now, and I slip onto his back and shoulders without a word. He takes me the short way to the house, and opens the door with the key I hand him over his shoulder. I was given crutches, but they're in the truck. Sam will bring them in for me later, I know.

Once inside, I'm overcome with the pain from falling, and from feeling completely emotionally drained. I hold it together, but I know it's not going to last long.

"Where to, love?" He asks softly, his voice gravelly.

"Bathroom. I'm going to take a bath." I say, feeling my chin quiver. He can't see me, which is a good thing. If I can just get to the bathroom, then kick him out, I can cry myself into oblivion in peace.

Sam heads for the bathroom, stepping inside the small room. He puts the toilet seat down and then turns around, backing up to it. He leans down and I let myself slide from his shoulders, landing gently on the seat.

"You going to be okay? I can stay." He offers, turning to face me. I look up at him, meeting his dark, serious eyes. Some people have a light in their eyes. Something carefree and exuberant. Sam has a light as well, but it's not carefree, nor is it excitable. It's steady. Serious. Thoughtful.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Thank you for today. For all the help." I say, swallowing hard, knowing the dam is going to break any moment.

"You're welcome." He says simply. I wait, looking away. Hoping he'll get the hint and leave.

"Thanks. Good night then." I say softly. He nods, and shifts, and then a moment later, he turns and leaves, shutting the bathroom door closed behind him.

I fold over on myself, breaking into chest heaving sobs. I stay quiet though, not wanting him to hear as he leaves. I cover my mouth and cry. I can't help myself, it seems. It is as if a chapter has finally been closed. Stupid Evan. His stupid hold over me. All the pain he's caused me. All the sadness that has been slowly infiltrating my life since he left me. It is like a heavy, wet blanket, slowly suffocating me. I press my face into my hands, letting a few sobs escape, not caring.

I have wanted this for so long. To be rid of him. And also, to be rid of so many other things that have been sitting heavily on my chest. My mother's death. Evan's betrayal. Now, Jacob's death. The unending fear that I don't know what I'm doing or what the next move is. It hurts. And it also feels like a long, slow relief. Like being able to stretch after being cramped in a small space for too long. My muscles ache and scream. I want to scream.

I don't even hear the door open. But I feel him immediately. The energy he brings to the room when he's around. The way my heart seems to settle into a faster pace when he's near. Like it's always beated that fast.

Sam's arms are around me, and I don't do anything to push him away. Because I don't want him away. I want him near. Closer.

I cry into his chest, my face pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. He murmurs in my ear, his voice the only thing I could even stand to hear at a time like this. Everything else is just noise. But he...he is a perfect symphony. I feel my soul stand still with his words in my ear.

"You're okay. You're okay." He whispers.

I hold him closer.

We don't speak after that. I reach up to him, and when we kiss, it is soft and sweet and wonderful. He holds me against him like I could break, and I feel as if I could. The kiss is careful, and brimming with emotion. I want more, and I know he does too, but neither of us push for it. Not tonight.

Instead, he runs me a hot bath. He helps me slowly undress. And then he sits on the floor by the tub while I soak, telling me stories about his travels, about Poppy, and about his life growing up. I cry, and I laugh, and I run my fingers through the mess of his dark hair. And finally, after some time, after the water has gone cold and my toes and fingers are pruney, Sam helps me dry off, and we go to bed together.