Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Quinn
I woke in the morning having dreamed of Ferris. I could feel the heat of his skin, and the desperation in his kisses, and the way his body moved against mine like it was real. The ache in my chest was profound when I swung my legs off the bed and forced myself to stand.
Mornings were always harder for me. My knee was in agony, and my joints—abused by years of hockey—were stiff and unyielding.
I needed to get out of this place. I needed a home and a bed that didn’t make me want to fling myself into the sun after a single night of sleep.
Stretching my arms above my head, I took in a deep breath and let myself indulge in the memory of saying goodbye to Ferris. He’d sat with me in the car until people in his frat started looking out the window.
I assumed he would run from me after that—embarrassed to be seen with an old man. Instead, he leaned in and took an indulgent kiss. It was a goodbye kiss, of course. I had a life to get on living, and he had a career to start. There was no place for each other apart from that single night.
That single moment.
When I got back to the hotel, I left the group chat. I couldn’t bring myself to see his name again. It would be too painful. It was easier to live with the ache when I didn’t have to watch him there, even if he rarely spoke to anyone.
With a sigh, I grabbed my hoodie and decided to head down to the little restaurant for breakfast and coffee. Grabbing my cane because my knee was absolutely not cooperating, I opened my door, then froze.
There was a little cardboard box in the shape of a perfect cube sitting on the ground. It was very obvious it had been deliberately placed there. My fingers shook as I bent my good knee and swiped it up with the tips of my fingers.
I swallowed heavily, then pried off the top. Nestled in a little bed of white polyester stuffing was a crocheted burrito with big, round black eyes and a tiny, curved slash of a smile. There was lettuce poking out of the top, and white, which was probably for sour cream.
My heart tumbled in my chest.
There was no note, but there didn’t need to be.
I held it in my head, a warm, heavy weight, then slipped it into the pocket of my hoodie. I had a feeling that this little thing wasn’t going to go far away from me.
At least, not often. And not for long.