Chapter 12 #2
Dax’s throat tightened. “I’m trying to protect her—”
“By pushing her away? By refusing to take a chance on happiness because you’re scared?” The grandmother shook her head. “That’s not protection. That’s cowardice.”
The words hit hard. Because they were true. And so direct, there was no way to escape the accusation.
“I’ve lost people,” Dax said quietly. “Everyone I care about ends up hurt.”
“So have I. My daughter-in-law abandoned Quinn. My son was murdered. My husband died twenty years ago.” The grandmother’s voice was firm despite its weakness.
“But I didn’t stop loving. Didn’t stop taking chances on people.
Because that’s what life is—taking chances.
Risking pain for the possibility of joy. ”
Dax swallowed hard. “What if I lose her? What if Wheeler—”
“What if you lose her because you’re too scared to try?” The grandmother reached for his hand with surprising strength. “Quinn cares about you. I can see it. And you care about her. Don’t waste what time you have together being afraid.”
“Time.” Dax’s voice was hoarse. “You don’t have much of it left, do you?”
“No. Days at most.” She smiled sadly. “Which is why I’m telling you this now.
I won’t be here much longer to guide Quinn.
To tell her she deserves to be happy. So I’m telling you instead—she deserves happiness.
She deserves someone who won’t run when things get hard.
Be that person.” Then she pinned him with a surprisingly sharp gaze and lowered her voice when she said, “Or get out of her way so someone else can be.”
The ultimatum hung in the air, the words cutting him deep. Quinn with someone else? He couldn’t imagine—
“I don’t know if I can,” Dax admitted.
“Then figure it out. Fast.” The grandmother’s eyes drifted closed, her voice softening again. “Because life’s too short for maybes.”
Dax sat there for a moment longer, then with a silent nod at Nathan, quietly left the room. He found Quinn in the kitchen, aggressively chopping vegetables for dinner. Her knife work was precise. Angry.
She didn’t look up when he entered.
“Your grandmother talked to me,” Dax said cautiously.
“I know. I can hear everything through these walls.” Quinn’s knife came down harder than necessary. “Let me guess—she told you to stop being an idiot?”
“More or less.”
“Good. At least someone’s saying it.” Quinn scooped up the chopped vegetables, dumped them into a pan. “Are you actually going to listen?”
Dax moved closer. Not touching, but close enough to see the tension in her shoulders. He wanted to reach out so bad, he could already feel the heat of her skin on his fingertips. But he didn’t dare. “I’m trying.”
“Trying isn’t the same as doing.” Quinn finally looked at him, and her eyes were glossy and rimmed with red. “I can’t keep doing this, Dax. Can’t keep waiting for you to decide if I’m worth the risk. It hurts too much.”
The knot in his chest that had been growing with each hour squeezed. “You are worth it. You’re worth everything.”
“Then prove it.” Her voice broke. “Stop talking about fear and just...just be here. With me. For real.”
He couldn’t take it anymore. Dax reached for her without thinking. Pulled her close. Quinn resisted for half a second, then melted against him, her hands fisting in his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m so sorry for putting you through this.”
Quinn’s breath hitched. “I just need to know if you’re willing to try. That’s all. Just try.”
Dax pulled back enough to see her face. Amber eyes swimming with tears. Lips slightly parted. So close he could count every freckle.
“I’m terrified,” he admitted. “Of losing you. Of failing you. Of—”
Quinn rose on her toes and kissed him.
It was desperate and messy and perfect. Her lips urgent against his, her hands pulling him closer. Dax responded without thinking, his arms tightening around her, his mouth opening under hers.
All the tension and fear and longing of the past few days poured into the kiss. Quinn’s fingers threaded through his hair, tugging slightly. Dax’s hands splayed across her back, feeling the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her blouse.
Then Quinn’s phone rang. Shrill and insistent.
They broke apart, both breathing hard. Quinn fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking.
“Hello?” Her voice was breathless.
“Quinn, it’s Nathan,” he said softly, and Dax could hear the murmur of his voice following from the bedroom, “Your grandmother—she’s asking for you. Her breathing is getting labored. You should come.”
The blood drained from Quinn’s face. “I’m here. I’m coming.” She hung up, looked at Dax with panic in her eyes. “Gran—”
“Go. I’m right behind you.”
Quinn ran down the hall. Dax followed, his heart pounding.
In the bedroom, Quinn’s grandmother was struggling to breathe, each inhale a labored wheeze.
And Dax knew—this was it. The end was coming. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Quinn knelt beside the bed, taking her grandmother’s hand. “I’m here, Gran. I’m right here.”
The moment was gone. The kiss forgotten in the face of impending loss.
And Dax stood in the doorway, feeling like an intruder, watching Quinn’s world shatter again. Helpless to do anything but bear witness while he waited to try to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart when it was all over.