Chapter 1 #2
He’d been watching. Nostalgia tingled her insides rather than the sense of being violated.
Quin wasn’t a stranger to her way of life, and there’d been a time when they could talk all things spiritual for hours.
She’d missed that ease she’d had with him.
Liam had always respected her ways but hadn’t really shown much interest.
And Quin was right. After everything that had happened when he left Whistlemore, he couldn’t exactly walk up to Dez, McKenna, and her. Not without enduring a shitload of anger from her friends.
“You don’t need to be here at all.” Whatever had brought Quin to her door wasn’t her problem. He hadn’t come to her with his issues before he left. He hadn’t asked for her help or her trust . . . No, he’d just up and left when she’d been at the lowest point in her life.
“Can we talk?” He shifted his weight so that one of his knees touched the earth. “I’ll beg if I have to.” The end of his eyebrow quirked up, a trait that had always made her melt, and still did. Even if his eyebrows were slightly swollen and violently pink.
There was a time when she’d leaned on Quin. When his presence helped soothe the pain and absence that had haunted her every minute since Liam died. And then she’d had to mourn Quin’s absence too. Only he’d had a choice.
Her brain spun. The heat of anger combined with the tiredness tugging on her shoulders made her roll her tongue behind her teeth in frustration. “I don’t have anything to say, Quin.”
“Can I tell you why I left?”
She snorted. “I know why you left. You set Rocco’s diner on fire and needed to avoid arson charges.” She sidled past him, bumping her hip into his shoulder. The contact sent a spike of awareness through her body.
He caught her elbow, stopping her on the second step, his hand firm and warm even through the material of her coat. “You really believe I’d do that?”
She worked her lips together. No. If it hadn’t been for his disappearance and lack of contact over the last eight months, she’d never have believed the rumors.
His fingers moved to the inside of her arm and a prickling sensation spread through her.
She turned and stared down at him. “You were caught on video with a gas tank at the scene and had no alibi.”
At this angle, his hazel eyes, which she’d committed to memory, appeared almost obsidian. The dark lashes that fanned around his orbs only heightened his appeal. “Someone who looked like me,” he said.
She hissed a breath through tight lips. She didn’t need this conversation right now.
“I need your help.” His tone held the hint of a plea.
Curiosity lit a flame inside her. God, she’d always been a sucker for Quin. Not that she ever would have explored her attraction to him. She huffed out a breath and caught his hand, tugging him to his feet. “Hurry up, I want to go to bed.”
As soon as the words left her mouth heat seared her cheeks.
Had it sounded as if she were suggesting he’d be joining her?
God. If things weren’t so tense between them, they might have shared a chuckle.
Back when they’d had a carefree friendship.
Before Liam died. She remembered his extra-long smiles, his gaze that would hold hers for a second beat and make her heart flutter.
A hundred times she’d second-guessed that grin because Quin was just that kind of man—he held everyone’s attention.
His teddy-bear demeanor made him one of the most trusted people she knew, and he never, ever, would have crossed the line and hurt Liam.
Now was no different.
She climbed the steps and reached the back door.
Quin’s heavy footsteps gently shook the wood on the porch that Liam had wanted to redo this time the previous year.
She opened the screen door and shed her coat, which she hung on the hook near the door.
Quin kicked off his boots, his gaze swinging around the snug cabin.
The light in the kitchen accentuated the red glow of his face. She’d caught bear spray in her eye once and had wanted to die. Wincing at the memory, a tiny bit of guilt struck her.
She gestured to the living room and he followed.
So weird. He was acting as if he’d never set foot in her house, but his presence here was strong.
The walls held their memories, even if he wanted to pretend that they didn’t.
She dropped into the armchair, not wanting to risk him sitting beside her on the sofa. “What do you want, Quin?”
He lowered himself to the couch, propped his elbows on his knees, and interlaced his fingers. “I need you to believe that I didn’t set that diner on fire.”
She cocked her head to the side. Hot air blew through her nose. Resting her hands on her thighs, she puckered her lips. “Fine. I believe you. But something tells me that’s not what you really want.”
His gaze flicked down her body, almost too quickly. He plucked his hat off his head. His blond hair jetted out as if he’d put his hat on after a shower. His normally tanned cheeks glowed with irritation.
“You’re really red,” she said.
His thick fingertips moved to a spot beneath his left eye, which had taken the brunt of the spray. “Yeah, remind me never to piss you off again.”
“Let me grab you another cloth.” She got to her feet and bustled to the kitchen.
Curse him to hell and back. She didn’t need to get caught up in drama, and sure as hell not roped back into Quin’s life.
Especially after what he’d done. But the healer in her couldn’t kick him out with an injury—especially not one that she’d caused.
If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d hoped she’d injure him just so she’d hear him out. He knew her weakness well.
Except the Quin she knew wouldn’t do something so conniving. The Quin she knew also wouldn’t have abandoned her when she’d needed him most, either.
Abandoned.
She couldn’t sound any clingier or more deluded if she tried. She and Quin hadn’t had a relationship. He hadn’t left her, even though her heart had interpreted his absence that way. After snagging a bag of peas from the freezer, she slammed the drawer shut and stalked back to the living room.
Quin’s hot stare met her. Dark. Hooded. Unreadable except for . . . guilt. The tension around his lips screamed that he had more to say. She slapped the peas on the arm of the couch. “I know there’s more you want to tell me. Spill it, Quin.”
He lifted the plastic bag and the corner of his mouth hooked into a smirk. “What, no calendula? I feel like you’re shafting me on the Josie Ryan treatment.”
A chuckle stopped at her throat. “Let’s help the swelling first. Why are you back in Whistlemore?” she asked, not letting his playful comment distract her from her goal. Her fingers ached to inspect his injury, but she didn’t dare. Touching Quin was a bad idea.
He pressed the peas to his left eye and leaned back into the cushions. His gaze turned soft, reminding her of the devastating news that stare had once accompanied. She folded her fingers in front of her abdomen. Her legs trembled but she couldn’t make herself sit again. “What is it?”
Quin lowered the bag and reached out to snag one of her hands. The heat of his palm scorched her skin as his gaze ensnared her. “It’s about Liam, Jos. His death wasn’t an accident. He was murdered.”