Chapter 31
Quinn
Quinn didn’t want to show up at August’s house looking like a mess, so he took the prescribed anxiety medication that he kept in his car before he got on the road.
It wasn’t strong enough to fuck up his cognitive function, and Quinn rarely used it anymore, but it helped take the edge off. That was something he needed right now.
But when he knocked on the door and tall, dark and handsome Harrison Killinger opened it with a scowl, he wished he had doubled his dose.
“Thank fuck,” said Harrison, ushering Quinn inside—nearly yanking him by the arm to get him over the threshold. “There was about to be a kidnapping at the arena if Jett couldn’t convince you to get your ass over here.”
Despite Harrison’s unfriendly appearance, Quinn could hear true concern in his tone. And the fact that Harrison was here and not coaching his team spoke volumes.
Quinn removed his jacket and boots, looking around for any sign of August, and found none. “Where—”
“Upstairs,” said Harrison. “He’s in the bathroom because he can’t keep anything down.
I’m making a broth soup and sandwiches for later if you can get him to eat, but I’ll leave you guys alone for the night.
I’ll be downstairs if you need me, so don’t worry about feeling like you have to stay if you want to leave. ”
Any last apprehension melted away at Harrison’s words, and Quinn let out a relieved breath. “Thank you for this—for trusting me with him.”
Harrison folded his arms. “Thank you for trusting yourself with him. I know what it took for you to come here tonight. Surrendering logic to emotions fucking sucks.”
Harrison walked away without a goodbye or an explanation, jabbing a finger in the direction of the stairs.
Go to August.
Quinn didn’t have to be told twice.
He took the steps as fast as he could, not giving himself time to think about what he might find and headed straight for August’s room. The bed was empty, but it didn’t take long to spot him on the bathroom floor, wrapped in all the missing blankets.
August was lying on his side in front of the toilet, cradling a bucket in case he didn’t make it to his knees fast enough.
The lights were off, but Quinn could see just fine with the bedroom door open.
He could see how pale and sickly August looked, and the bloody towels and tissues spread around him.
He could see his cheeks were flushed, and that he had a wet facecloth over his eyes to ease the ache of his migraine.
Quinn could also see that August was not okay like Niko had told him.
“August?”
He waited, but August didn’t stir. Quinn couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.
“Hey,” Quinn whispered, keeping quiet so he didn’t hurt August’s head. “I know you don’t want me here, but I came anyway.”
A muscle flexed in August’s jaw, and Quinn watched his breathing turn heavy before he spoke.
“I don’t know if you’re real or not, but either way, you should go.”
Real or not?
This wasn’t the first time August had said something like this. The first time had been in the hotel room the night Quinn propositioned him, and he brushed it off because he thought August was sleepwalking.
Quinn knelt and gently touched his face, so August could feel for himself that he wasn’t a ghost, illusion or whatever else his mind was conjuring.
August shuddered, and fresh blood dripped from his nose, turning his breathing bubbly. His calloused hands left the folds of the blanket to take Quinn’s, pressing it to his face like his touch was as soothing as a balm.
“Quinn, please leave,” August croaked. “You can’t see me—not like this. I’ve already been too much of a burden.”
He would have been a burden had their relationship stayed true to their contract. Quinn hadn’t signed up for illness and…whatever this was.
But it was a good thing he didn’t care anymore.
“Our agreement ended when I realized you broke the only rule I gave you,” said Quinn. “I’m here because I want to be, so lift the blanket and let me in, August. I need to take care of you before I lose my goddamn mind.”
August didn’t move when Quinn asked, but his breath hitched, his bottom lip starting to tremble. When Quinn lifted the cloth from his eyes, his own heart stuttered at the sight of tears slipping free and running down August’s cheeks.
August, who had never cried—who had always held an air of uncaring numbness at times—was blinking at him with big blue eyes, looking like a lost and terrified little boy.
“Oh, baby.” Quinn fell into August’s arms the moment he opened them, his heart shattering into a million pieces when August hugged him and sobbed into his neck. “What’s wrong? Please tell me what happened.”
Tears stung Quinn’s eyes as August continued to hold him and cry, his body shaking both of them with the force of his sobs. He was squeezing just a little too tightly, and the floor was uncomfortable, but Quinn didn’t care.
He brushed his fingers through August’s sweat-damp hair, speaking praises to him in hush tones that probably made no sense, but they felt right.
His emotions swung from heartbreak on August’s behalf to rage and the need to hurt whoever had done this to him.
He had a feeling it was something to do with August’s mother, but he didn’t want to get too worked up until he got the story from him.
No sense in burning the Snow family home down when he didn’t know the truth yet. He needed to have patience.
Quinn let August get it all out, hushing him whenever he tried to speak and pausing only long enough to wipe away tears, blood, and snot before the dam broke again and it started over.
When Quinn began to worry August would make himself sick, he tried to quiet him by pressing gentle kisses to the less gross parts of his face and guiding him through deep breaths. The breathing helped, and the tears never stopped, but the sobs eventually faded until they came to a stop.
But then the trembling started, and Quinn had seconds to yank August onto his knees so he could wretch into his bucket—but he didn’t vomit anything up.
Quinn rubbed August’s bare back, fingers brushing over the large scars as he traced the lines of his tattoos. He waited for August’s stomach to stop spasming before he got a fresh, wet cloth to clean his face, still speaking in a soothing tone until he had the man under the blankets again.
“I’m gross, don’t get down here with me,” August whined, but Quinn ignored him and joined him.
“I take care of two snotty, germy children,” said Quinn. “You eventually get used to the smell of puke and dealing with fluids. At least you’re only one person.”
He kept the teasing light to put August at ease, but also so he could gauge his condition. August had his eyes closed again and was trying to smile, but he didn’t quite have the strength to do it.
“You need to drink something.” Quinn couldn’t see any more blood, but between the crying and refusing to eat, August had to be dehydrated as hell. “Can you request a team doctor to visit and check you out? At least they could give you something for the pain.”
August shook his head weakly. “I can’t. If they see me like this, I’ll be benched for weeks. I only need a few days, and then it will…stop.”
It sounded like August was speaking from experience, but if that was the case, then he couldn’t let this go.
Quinn had to think of some way to get August to the hospital so they could scan him and test him for every known illness they could think of.
No healthy twenty-eight-year-old got migraines bad enough to put them in this state without taking medication.
“You know what I’m going to tell you,” Quinn said.
August’s refusal was stronger this time. “I’m not sick. It’s my head.”
Quinn sighed. He was too emotionally drained to deal with August’s stubbornness. “If it’s just your head, then it’s not a big deal. They have all sorts of pain meds for migraines these days.”
“No—” August’s blond lashes fluttered as his eyes opened. “It’s not the migraine, it’s my brain. It’s mental.”
Quinn…didn’t understand. August looked like he was about to start crying, and he had no idea how to help him.
“I’m having a mental breakdown,” said August, and his breath hitched sharply again, startling Quinn. “I’m losing my fucking mind, Quinn. The nosebleeds—the migraines—they’re all symptoms of my brain breaking because I’m going insane.”
August pressed his face into his hands, like he was hiding from Quinn.
Like he was ashamed.
“That’s why I didn’t want you here,” said August. “I don’t want you to see me this fucked up. I don’t want to scare you when I can’t tell if you’re real, or if I’m real, or if my entire world is a lie and I’m actually in a straitjacket in a hospital somewhere, staring at a wall, drooling.”
Quinn pried August’s hands away long enough to catch a glimpse of his fear-dark eyes. “August—”
“I’m broken, Quinn!” August shoved into a sitting position to escape the touches, but he was wobbling too much to stand up.
“I thought I was getting better, but I was wrong. I can’t put you through this after everything I did, and it was selfish for me to try.
I should never have agreed to this. You deserve someone who makes you happy, and that’s not me because I don’t even know who I am. ”
Quinn’s blood pressure was so high that he could feel his heart beating in his stomach. He knew he had to stop August before he fell into hysterics again, but his body wouldn’t move.
“I love you too much. I can’t do this,” said August, body shivering as he tucked himself into a ball. “I’ll get better on my own, and you can go back to focusing on your life and doing things that make you happy. You don’t have to return after tonight.”
Quinn’s extremities still didn’t feel like his own, but he managed to push himself upright so he wasn’t speaking to August from the floor.
“Are you done?”
August reluctantly lifted his gaze to meet Quinn’s.