Chapter Thirty-Two
Quinn
A crash of thunder rips me from my sleep with a start. I try drawing in a breath, but then another crash followed by howling wind has me sitting straight up in bed. Now that I’m fully awake, I can hear the torrential rain outside. My body begins trembling, and my breathing grows shallow.
Closing my eyes, I grip my sheets to my chin as tears stream down my face.
It’s just like the night of the accident. The night that took Dad away from us forever.
A rumble of thunder shakes the house, and I jump out of bed, a yelp escaping my lips. I open my door just as Bram opens his.
“Quinn? Are you okay?” His eyes are heavy with sleep as he glances around the hallway as if looking for whatever scared me.
My eyes roam over his disheveled hair and very shirtless chest and abs. My mouth goes dry as I drag my gaze back up to his. He’s watching me, uncertainty written on his expression, and something else I can’t put a name to. Heat floods my cheeks at my foolish reaction to a simple storm. And my blatant ogling of him. Not to mention I’m standing out here in my silk pajamas. My shorts barely cover my rear and my top is a spaghetti strap. I cross my arms protectively over my chest. Yeah. Forgot about the no bra thing too.
I need to go bury my flaming face in my pillow and forget this moment ever happened.
I’m about to tell him I’m fine when the wind and rain pick up and a flash of lightning illuminates the entire house. I jump out of my skin. Bram is beside me in an instant, wrapping me in his strong arms and gathering me to his chest.
“Q. You’re shaking,” he mumbles as he rubs soothing circles on my lower back.
Another tremble makes its way through my body, but this time, it isn’t from the storm.
He brushes the tears away with his thumbs. “Why are you crying, sunshine?”
I lean into his touch. “I don’t like storms,” I whisper. The comfort of his arms and the warmth rolling off his body must be messing with my mind because the next words are out of my mouth before I can even think through them. “Can I sleep with you?”
Bram’s eyes pop wide, and he clears his throat. “Of course.”
Embarrassment burns my face. Why had I opened my big mouth? Another boom of thunder rattles the windows. I scurry past him and into his room, not thinking about the implications. He follows behind me, rubbing a hand over his face as we both glance down at the bed.
“Um . . . which side do you sleep on?” Apprehension washes over me. I obviously wasn’t as awake as I thought when I ran out into the hallway. Did I just ask Bram if I could sleep with him?
“The right. But I can sleep wherever.” He looks as uncomfortable as I’m feeling. Until another clap of thunder has me jumping underneath his covers. I bury my head in the pillow, the woodsy and minty scent of Bram completely surrounding me.
My back is to him. The bed shifts as he slides in beside me, keeping a respectable distance. An ache settles deep in my chest. Over the last few weeks, I’ve begun to want something different from Bram. It started when he found me sobbing over Jovie, but it’s blossomed into a longing that is slowly consuming me.
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve found him watching me, a soft smile on his face. The foot massages he gives me most evenings are pure, delightful torture. A slight shiver courses through me just thinking about his touch. It isn’t just the massages, he seems to be finding excuses to touch me anytime he can.
Brushing my hand when he helps me with the dishes. Tucking the hair behind my ear when it falls in my face while we’re talking. Embracing me whenever he can tell I’m getting ready to start falling apart over Jovie again.
His hugs are amazing. They are warm and strong and make me feel completely safe. And cherished.
And I want more.
I think back to what Mrs. Graham said about her and Mr. Graham. My heart craves a connection like that, and I wonder if I need to be the one to take that first step.
Rolling over to face him, I find him on his back, his brow furrowed slightly.
“You really don’t like storms, do you?” he asks.
I release a shaky breath. “They bring back bad memories.”
He turns on his side to face me. My breath hitches in my throat at how close we are now.
“Your dad?” His voice is so soft I almost don’t hear him over the rain.
Nodding, I wipe my eyes as a few more tears release.
Tracing the trail of my tears with his thumb, he says, “You’re safe with me.”
His touch is like electricity shooting through my veins, and I curl into it, closing my eyes. Another roar of thunder has me scooting even closer to him. Bram wastes no time putting an arm around me, securing me to him. My body relaxes as I meld into his warm embrace.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
My eyes fly open at his question. “I miss him,” I admit, battling the tears. I’m not sure if he’s aware, but his fingers have moved, and he’s tracing lazy patterns on my back. Everywhere he touches brings delicious goosebumps to my skin.
“I do too,” he replies.
For the first time, I want to open up to someone about my conflicting feelings over that night. I’ve kept it buried for so long in an attempt to keep my family intact. “I get so angry sometimes.”
“At God?”
“Maybe? A little, I guess. But mostly—” I pause and inhale deeply. “I get so angry at Lois.”
His hand stills on my back for a few beats before he clears his throat and resumes the soothing touch. “Lois?”
I’m not surprised Bram doesn’t know the actual events of the night that took Dad’s life. After what happened at the restaurant with Lawrence, I realize Lois has hidden a lot of things from him. I bite my lip. Is it wrong for me to work through this with him? With my husband? I don’t want to make him think badly of Lois. But I am his wife, and I need to talk to someone.
Bringing my gaze to meet his, I nod. “Sometimes I blame her for Dad’s death.”
He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at me with a raised brow. “I’m not following. I mean, I know she was in the car with him, but . . .” he trails off waiting for me to explain.
“She was at a party. Drunk. Her friend’s parents came home and found a bunch of wasted teenagers and called the parents to come pick them up. If she wouldn’t have gone, wouldn’t have chosen to drink . . . ” My voice chokes on a sob. “I’ve forgiven her. I have. But sometimes it’s still hard. And sometimes I want to be angry with her for taking my dad from me.”
Bram remains silent as I pour out my heart.
“But the worst part is, I knew Lois was going to the party, and I didn’t stop her. So really, I guess it’s both of our faults.” Another tear falls down my cheek, and Bram wipes it away.
“I mean, deep down I know that isn’t true. I didn’t kill him. And Lois didn’t kill him. I know she’s lived with this massive guilt ever since because I have too. But sometimes, if I let myself think about it too much, I get angry all over again and can’t even stand to be in the same room with her.”
I cover my face with my hands. “I’m a horrible person,” I moan. That night plays over in my head. How I should have been able to stop Lois. How I should have told Mom and Dad before she snuck out, instead of waiting until it was too late.
Gently prying my hands from my face, Bram peers down at me with a tender expression. “Quinn, you are not a horrible person. Far from it. You lost your father. Feeling guilty is normal. Wanting to place blame somewhere is normal. But blaming yourself and blaming Lois and living with guilt won’t bring your dad back.
“Sometimes things happen in life that we don’t understand and can’t control. Or things turn out badly and hindsight makes us feel like we should have known how it would end. But we’re not God. We have to remember that even when it hurts, and even when life doesn’t turn out the way we expected or even wanted, that He is sovereign in all of it. He can use the worst situations to bring us joy and glory to Himself.”
I sniff. “What good has come out of Dad dying, Bram?” There’s a bite to my tone, but I don’t apologize for it. I know Bram is right. But sometimes it’s hard to grasp the truth when it hurts so much.
Bram smiles softly as he runs a gentle hand over my hair. “Sometimes we don’t always see how God brings about the good from the bad. But . . . well, you may not have gotten to spend these years raising Jovie. And you might not be as strong as you are now. You have a heart for the hurting and those who’ve lost their parents because you’ve lived it. That’s why the residents at the center love you so much. Because you see them.”
His comforting words wash over me, leaving a serenity I’ve not felt in much too long. “Thank you, Bram.”
“No. Thank you, sunshine.”
“For what?” I breathe out as he brushes a strand of my hair back and lets his fingers trail down my face, tracing my jawline. My eyes flutter closed at the sparks his touch ignites under my skin.
“For being you. For sharing that piece of yourself. For being here with me.” His lips press against my forehead. “For existing,” he says, his warm breath fanning across my face.
He jerks back, a pained expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shakes his head a little. “I just wish . . . I wish I wouldn’t have had blinders on. I wish I had known what was going on. I hate that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most.”
His words tug at my heart. I lay my hand on his cheek, then rub my thumb over his chiseled jaw. “You’re here now,” I whisper.
Dark, stormy eyes meet mine. They’re full of a heat I’ve never seen before, and my pulse increases. Slowly, Bram brings his forehead to mine. His breath is hot on my cheek, and I want nothing more than to press my lips against his.
“Q,” he groans, and I can no longer hold back.
Closing the distance, I meet his mouth in a soft kiss. Bram’s fingers leave feather-light touches down my arm until he reaches my side. Squeezing my hip, he deepens the kiss. I grasp his bicep before running my fingers through his hair.
Bram peppers my face with tender kisses before leaving a trail of fire down my neck and back to my mouth. His hand runs up and down my thigh and hip. I become lost in an endless sea of bliss. I’ve never known anything like this moment. Never known the feelings that only Bram can elicit from me.
All too soon, he pulls back, leaving both of us breathless. Pressing a lingering kiss on my forehead, he lets out a heavy sigh. “I think I need to sleep in the other room.”
For a moment, my world comes crashing down again. Had I misread things? But when my gaze locks onto his, I see the same passion and desire I’m feeling reflected back at me. I bring my finger up to trace my swollen lips, and Bram tracks the movement. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and averts his gaze.
“I’ll just . . . go,” he says, starting to rise.
An internal war rages within me, but it’s over almost as soon as it begins. I want this. I want to be completely his. And by the way he was looking at me, I think he wants me too.
I grasp his arm. “Bram, please stay.”
Turning slowly, his eyes trail over my body, then meet mine. Searching. “Quinn, if I stay, I—”
Sitting up, I press my finger to his lips, cutting off his objection. “I know,” I whisper, fighting the heat rushing to my cheeks at my sudden boldness. “I want you to stay.” His lips claim mine once more as he gently presses me back onto the bed.