Chapter 15
Quinn
The hockey game had been…one of the most exciting things Quinn had ever watched. He had no idea what was going on, but Bea was quick to explain points to him when they happened, enthusiastically telling him the game was a barn burner.
Stupid fucking name, but it just meant that both teams were scoring lots of points and driving the spectators wild—which was exactly what happened.
The bigfoots won with eight goals, one of those being the overtime one that Eren scored, and five coming from August. That was a huge jump in performance between the last game Quinn had watched and this one, and he wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Logan and I are going out for drinks,” Bea said once they were in a quieter place, wrapping an arm around Quinn’s waist and crushing him into her side. “Do you want to come? I think Eren is going too.”
Quinn shook his head and detangled himself from his friend before she became permanently attached. “It’s late, and I need to wake up early tomorrow with the girls. You have fun with your rowdy hockey boys. I’ll think about you while I’m warm in my bed, reading fluffy romance novels.”
“Oh, you bitch,” said Bea, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “That sounds so amazing. How big is your bed? Want to have a sleepover?”
That did sound nice, but if he invited her over, there was no doubt in his mind that they would be up until the early hours of the morning.
He couldn’t start his day walking around like a zombie, even if he knew that Eren would hire someone to help him out with the girls if he really was that tired.
“You’re making a face,” Bea said, poking Quinn’s flushed cheek. “We’ll skip it for tonight, but the sleepover is happening soon, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
They strolled through the private section of the parkade reserved for players, staff, and other important people, the space quiet now that the game had ended.
Quinn could have left after the final buzzer went off, but he chose to stick around and keep Bea company while she waited for her husband to get his ass out of the locker room.
“Maybe it’s a good thing we’re postponing our sleepover,” Bea said, sighing dramatically. “After Logan scored that goal and got into a fight, I’ve been thinking of making another baby with him.”
Quinn sucked in the cold air too fast and ended up sputtering and coughing, while Bea cackled like a madwoman and patted him on the back.
“I won’t be able to look at him now!” Quinn hissed, giving her a playful shove that only made her laugh harder. “Seeing his face will just conjure images of him fucking you!”
Bea was trying to wipe her tears away, but she wasn’t doing a great job because she was smearing her eyeliner. “You can join us if you want. You said you were looking for models to paint, and I bet we could find some dynamic positions that will earn you points in school.”
“Fuck you,” Quinn spat, but he was laughing too—and crying.
“Come on.” Bea was so hysterical that she had to hold onto Quinn to keep from falling over. “It would be so hot. And I don’t know if Logan likes guys, but I’m sure we could—”
Quinn covered her mouth, but he overcompensated and ended up knocking them both into her car.
Her face was red, and she was getting snot on him, but Quinn didn’t care.
He had covered her mouth to keep her from shouting her threesome plans through the entire building, but they ended up laughing loud enough to draw the attention of the few people around them.
“Is she causing a scene?”
Quinn looked over his shoulder and spotted Logan swaggering toward them. He was wearing casual clothes and looked damn good, but Quinn could tell from appearance alone that the poor man was as straight as an arrow.
Sorry, Bea.
“I would say cut her off after she’s reached a certain number of beers, but that number would be zero, and she won’t like that.” Logan winked at Quinn, and Bea, who still had her mouth covered, started muffled-cursing at her husband.
Quinn removed his hand when she licked him, grumbling as he wiped his slimy palm on his pants. “For someone gorgeous enough to be a Hollywood actress, she’s kind of…”
“Awesome?” Logan grinned and swept his wife into his arms, instantly earning forgiveness for threatening to take alcohol away from her. “She’s my little trash-panda, aren’t you, baby?”
“Don’t say that word around me right now!” Bea shoved out of her husband’s arms and made a show of standing without needing help. “You have no idea what force you’re threatening to unleash.”
Logan’s smile fell, and he looked to Quinn for help, but Quinn was staying the fuck out of this.
“You guys go breed somewhere else,” said Quinn. “I’m going the fuck home.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, chuckling when Logan immediately started questioning what he was talking about.
“I’ll text you tomorrow, Quinn!” Bea called after him.
Quinn waved his hand. “Keep it PG, Beatrice.”
“Son of a—”
Bea must have earned another hand over her mouth because Quinn never heard the end of her sentence.
Quinn’s smile lasted the short walk to his car, and he was still snickering when he pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the doors. He was about to get in to escape the damn cold when his gaze snagged on a familiar sports car parked a few spaces over.
It wasn’t the car that made him pause, because why wouldn’t August leave his vehicle somewhere safe while he went drinking with his teammates? But realizing that the car wasn’t empty was what made him stop.
Had there been vehicles parked between them, Quinn may not have noticed the man sitting in the front seat. A man with striking white hair, who was slumped over his steering wheel like he was taking a nap.
There was no reason to approach August. Quinn had to stay strong and stick to rule one, which meant he shouldn’t shut his car door.
It meant he shouldn’t walk past his own car to stop outside the passenger side door of August’s car.
It meant he shouldn’t knock on the window to get August’s attention.
But he did.
“August?”
Vancouver had mild winters, but January was the snowiest time of the year. It was currently colder than normal, and the windows of the car were fogged up, which told him that August was breathing, but still—
Quinn knocked again, harder this time.
August didn’t move. He was only wearing a white dress shirt that was so thin, Quinn could clearly see the black ink of his tattoos through it.
It looked damp, like August had either gotten dressed without drying off after his shower, or he was sweating so much that it had soaked through his clothes.
“August!” Quinn slammed his fist against the window one more time before he said fuck it and tried the door handle.
The door swung open, and Quinn had his hands on August’s freezing body in the next second, shaking him by the shoulders hard enough to make him sway.
The first thought running through his head was that this was an overdose scenario he was dealing with, and he was panicking because he didn’t know what he was supposed to do.
But then August sucked in a ragged breath and lurched upright with glassy eyes filled with tears, and his body unsteady, like a drunken man trying to find his footing.
And there was a steady stream of blood dripping from his nose, staining his chin, his shirt, and the blue carpet of his expensive sports car.
“Quinn.” A croak left August’s throat, pitching to a whine as a sob shook his shoulders. He swiped his arm across his face, staining his sleeve with blood. “You found me. I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I can’t look at you, even in my dreams; it’s too much.”
Oh god. What the fuck was happening right now?
“August,” Quinn said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “What did you take?”
August blinked. “Take?” He blinked again. “I took your virginity—and half your heart. I’m a horrible person, Quinn. Just leave me here and live your life.”
Quinn needed to call an ambulance and get August checked out because this wasn’t something he could handle. August was looking at him like he was something divine, which was a dramatic shift from their last conversation.
“I’m calling for help,” Quinn said, pressing a hand to August’s shoulder while fishing for his phone.
“Help?” August blinked, shuddering hard. The dazed fog in his eyes vanished, and Quinn was suddenly face to face with him—the August from that night. The one who’d looked through him and spit out denial like poison.
“What are you doing here?” August asked, his voice stripped of the trembling vulnerability it had carried moments before.
The standoffish tone punched the air from Quinn’s lungs, leaving fury in its wake.
“Are you seriously giving me attitude right now?” Quinn ripped his hand away and held onto the door so he could lean closer—to make sure that August could see how pissed he was.
“You were sitting in your car looking like a corpse, crying and bleeding all over yourself, so I decided to be nice and make sure you weren’t overdosing on some fancy, rich-boy drug.
And now you’re looking at me like you hate me, and I want to punch you in your stupid face and give your nose a real reason to bleed. ”
August’s face had gone slack during Quinn’s ramble, and he appeared seconds away from crying again.
“I don’t—” August’s bottom lip wobbled, and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing more tears to fall and mix with the blood. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore. I don’t know if I’m real.”
Quinn felt his mouth fall open as he watched August break down, his snuffles turning loud and his tears carving a path through the drying blood on his face. His nose was bubbling with more red liquid, and his shoulders were heaving with deep breaths that inevitably turned into sobs.
Quinn was scared. He was scared for himself and August.
“What did you take?” Quinn demanded. “I’m calling an ambulance.”