Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
AUGUST
“You can drop me off at the departure gate,” Quinn says as I shift the car into the lane that leads to short-term parking.
“I can. But I’m not going to.”
She flew all the way up here to support me, and she thinks I’m going to drop her on the curb with a quick wave goodbye?
In truth, there were multiple times on this drive I considered getting “lost” until we were so late that Quinn missed her flight and had to stay another day.
But that would have been a shitty move, and I’m trying not to ruin this fragile new thing between us.
As it is, I don’t know what distance will do to our relationship.
I’d like to think we’re strong enough not to let the time apart affect anything, but I’d feel more secure if we’d been together longer.
If we had planted more roots. And if those roots twined together.
But she’s leaving, and the ground is all loose dirt under my feet.
After grabbing a ticket at the entrance to the lot and finding an empty space, I put the car in park. Quinn meets me at the trunk, but I make sure to grab her bags before her reaching fingers can take hold of the handles.
“You don’t—”
“I’m carrying your bags, Quinn. And I’m walking you to the security line. And I’m hanging out until you make it to your gate.”
Something in my voice keeps her from arguing, and I’m glad. I don’t want to bicker with her in these last minutes we have together.
I start to walk, the handle of her rolling suitcase in one hand and her small duffel bag clutched in the other.
“Wait.” Quinn’s touch on my shoulder has me pausing. “Here.”
She tugs on the bag, and I’m ready to scold her again when I realize she’s just lengthening a strap. Understanding her intention, I move to sling the strap over my shoulder.
The second my hand is free, Quinn laces our fingers together. She smiles up at me and pairs it with an affectionate squeeze.
“You’re going to make everyone in the airport think I’m high maintenance, carrying all my bags for me.” She playfully pokes me in the stomach as we cross the parking lot.
I’m almost too distracted by the lovely heat of her skin to answer, but I manage a response. “Any man who sees us is going to wish he were the one carrying your bags.”
Quinn snorts. “And all the straight women and gay men are going to be clamoring for your help the minute you step away from me.”
Then I’ll never leave your side. I keep the words to myself, knowing they’re too heavy for this lighthearted goodbye banter.
“Maybe I’ll make a few bucks before I head out then. Charge for my services.”
Quinn lifts our joint hands to her mouth, and I wonder if she’s going to kiss my skin. A moment later, there’s a slight, sharp pressure on my knuckle that has me stumbling before staring down at her, shock and arousal picking up my heartbeat.
“Did you bite me?”
Her smile is wicked and full of warning. “No one gets your services but me. Paid or otherwise.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I soothe the ice in my gut, the heavy weight of it an erotic pressure. I want to place Quinn’s fingers on the bare skin of my stomach and have her warmth infuse every inch of me.
Instead, I pull our clasped hands to my mouth, pressing my lips to the inside of her wrist.
She shivers and smirks, and all the while, I’m basking in the steady waves of heat that pulse from her palm to mine.
I don’t think she realizes the amount of control she’s developed, and I doubt she’d believe me if I pointed it out.
Quinn only sees her mistakes, not her triumphs.
But I see them, and I catalog each and every one in my mind.
Right now, for instance, the only fire I feel is in her skin.
Nothing spilling into the air around us. The same with our visit to the glacier.
Quinn Byrne still runs hot, but she’s mastering how to keep her powers contained within the limits of her own body.
I’d like to think I’m the one she’s trying so hard for, but that comes off as arrogant. Maybe I was the start of her growth, but no doubt she could continue to improve without me.
With someone else even.
My icy arousal thaws at the thought.
The airport is busy with people starting and ending their journeys.
Quinn and I move through the crowds, finding the line for the airline ticket counter she’s flying with.
As we inch forward in the stream of customers, I experience the moment as if I were in a dream.
A bad one, where time was slipping away from me faster and faster, no matter how hard I tried to hold on to it.
Our banter never started back up, and now I frantically think of something to say to make her smile again.
But the only words that come to me are heavy ones.
Don’t leave.
I need you.
Stay with me.
I love you.
Massive weights that I worry could smother our new relationship.
I’m putting so much on Quinn and so fast already. Days after deciding to take this all slow, I bought her a plane ticket to meet my parents. One of whom was in the hospital.
So, I keep my mouth shut, locking down my panic.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize it’d be so crowded. Guess we should have left earlier.” Quinn murmurs this to me as we make another small shuffling step forward in line.
Little does she know I’d give most anything for the amount of people in here to double. To overwhelm the planes to the point that she couldn’t board one. So she couldn’t leave me.
Stop being selfish, I chide myself.
“Don’t worry. You won’t miss your flight.”
The edges of her mouth curve down, and I give in to the urge to lean over and press a kiss to her forehead, hoping to ease her worry. Also trying to cover up how much I want her to miss her flight.
I love you, I silently add as I straighten up, praying to the gods that I can speak the words out loud one day soon.
And then hear them in return.
I do love Quinn.
It shouldn’t have happened this fast, but I know I do.
This morning, I came downstairs to see her at the kitchen table with my mother, playing Scrabble, and I fought against the sudden sensation of drowning. That was when I realized the reason I couldn’t breathe was from an overwhelming surge of happiness and affection.
Oh gods, I thought. I love her.
Then my girlfriend glanced up from the board and caught me staring. She put on the most adorable, overexaggerated pout.
“August! Tell your mom to stop being so hard on me.”
Grinning to cover the chaos caused by my realization, I approached the table to offer my advice.
My mother scowled. “Don’t help her. That’s cheating.”
“But I’m an accountant! I know numbers, not words,” Quinn bemoaned, fiddling with her pieces, looking lost.
“You’re speaking the English language right now, aren’t you?” Mama’s injuries made her feisty.
As the women continued their lighthearted bickering, I filled a mug with coffee from the still-hot pot. Then I meandered back to the table.
“August.” My mother’s voice was full of warning. She took her Scrabble very seriously.
I held my free hand up in surrender. “I’m just looking. Swear on the gods.”
Quinn’s brow was furrowed in concentration as she studied her tiles. Then, with a sigh of acceptance—or maybe defeat—she plucked four of the little squares and carefully arranged them. I leaned forward to read the word, making the mistake of sipping some coffee as I did so.
Boobs.
Liquid scalded my windpipe as I sucked in a breath, and I spent the next few seconds coughing up a lung and trying to get a glimpse of my mother’s expression, even as my eyes watered.
All the while, Quinn watched me with pinched lips and dipped brows, no doubt waiting to see if I needed medical help. Once I was breathing normally again, she turned back to the game.
“Boobs. And I’m on a triple word score, so that’s twenty-seven points.”
“Your boobs are worth more than that.” My comment slipped out before I could consider what I was saying.
Quinn grinned over her shoulder at me as Mama shook her head, all the while fighting a smile.
“You’re damn right they are.” The Pyro puffed out her chest, as if to put them on display.
I had to grip the back of her chair to keep from sinking to the ground in front of her and burying my face in the tempting globes.
“Yes, and if you had spelled out Quinn’s boobs, that certainly would’ve been a higher point value. But it also would have been against the rules. You’ll have to settle for the generic boob points.”
I could hardly believe those words had come out of my mother’s mouth. It wasn’t that she was uptight, but we’d never been the type of family to make sex jokes.
Apparently, Quinn was having an effect on us all.
At that moment, Dad entered the kitchen through the door that led to the backyard. He brought the scent of freshly mowed grass with him.
Sunday was the one day of the week the bakery was normally closed, which made it household chore day.
We still headed into the shop later in the afternoon to prep for the rest of the week, but my dad was always busy in the morning with home-related tasks.
I reminded myself to ask him for a list of things he wouldn’t have time to get to.
My father smiled at each of us, ending on my girlfriend.
“You need me to drive you to the airport, Quinn?” he asked.
“I’ll call a cab.”
“I’ll drive her.”
Quinn and I spoke at the same time, and silence descended on the kitchen as a sick twisting filled my gut.
“Do you want to take a cab?” I asked quietly, not wanting to force her into a car with me if she didn’t want to be.
“I don’t want to be a burden.” Her long fingers fiddled with another letter tile.
“You’re not. I’m driving you.”
Thankfully, Quinn didn’t fight me on the proclamation, and I’m taking the fact that she’s still holding my hand, even as we step up to the ticket counter, as a positive sign.
After she checks her bags and gets her printed ticket, Quinn and I follow the signs directing us toward security. All the while, I try not to be obvious about how much I’m dragging my feet. We’re about to pass a small convenience shop when I have an idea and pull her to a stop.
“Wait here a second. I want to grab something.”
Leaving my girlfriend with a befuddled look on her face, I duck into the store and make a quick purchase. A minute later, I’m back at her side, sliding my hand into hers.
“You going to tell me what that was about?”
“In a minute.”
Up ahead, I spot the long, twisting security line, and I hate the sight of it. Glancing around, I eye a large column that could afford us a small amount of privacy. I tug Quinn toward it, tucking us into the corner.
“Here. Thought this might help entertain you on the flight.” From my back pocket, I pull out a tiny booklet and hand it over.
She reads the cover and flips through the pages. “Sudoku?”
I nod and force my face into a smile. “Thought about a crossword puzzle book, but you’re an accountant. You know numbers, not words.”
That earns me a beautiful grin worth a lot more than the five bucks I paid for the little gift.
Damn, I’m going to miss that smile.
Not for long though, I remind myself. Us being apart is only temporary.
But for some reason, this separation gives me anxiety. As if our goodbye means more than goodbye for now.
And the fear that thought brings with it has me desperate for her.
“Can I kiss you?”
Quinn stares up at me, indecision clear on her face, especially when she glances around the crowded terminal.
I try not to push her, but as her mouth opens to give what I’m sure is a rejection, I add one last plea.
“I’ll keep you cold.”
Instead of speaking, she lets out a little huff as I notice her pupils dilating. Her widened eyes trace the shape of my lips, and before I can blink, she has her hands fisted in my T-shirt.
“You’d better.” The whisper is low and fierce and comes a moment before her mouth crashes into mine.
She tastes like my toothpaste and hot cinnamon. I stifle my urge to groan, but can’t keep my tongue to myself, dragging it across hers, diving deeper, as if I could consume her as easily as she has consumed me.
Letting my frost stifle her fire is easy with her soft body pressed against mine. I wrap us in an invisible barrier of chill, wondering if her hot touch against my cold will give off steam.
Quinn breaks away, panting. I find breathing equally as difficult, dragging in lungfuls through my nose. Luckily, there’s no radius of destruction around us, and no one seems to have noticed or cared about our PDA.
My girlfriend presses her hands against her flushed cheeks as her gaze connects with mine.
“I’ll see you soon?” she asks.
“We can set up a video-chat date.”
Talking to Quinn on a screen won’t be near as good as being in the same room as her, but anything I can do to hear her voice, see her laugh, talk to her about my day and learn about hers is better than nothing. I need that connection, no matter how tenuous.
However, my response doesn’t reward me with a smile. Instead, Quinn ducks her head, a second too late to hide the downward curve of her mouth. I’m on the verge of asking what went wrong when she steps away from me, taking all her glorious warmth with her.
“Goodbye, August.”
The words are an ice cream scooper to my chest, digging out a painful chunk of my heart. Like she plans to take the piece of me with her, and the only way I can get it back is by returning to her side.
Of course I will.
“I’ll see you soon, Quinn.”
Her head tilts back toward me at that, her mouth smiling again but her eyes sad.
“I hope so.”