Chapter 34
Cassie
B ang. Bang. Bang.
My head flies off the pillow. I sit up in the darkness, feeling around for the lamp switch. I flick it on, squinting at the sudden brightness.
2:48 a.m.
Being woken at this ungodly hour simply isn’t called for. And worse still, I didn’t get to sleep until after midnight, so I’m a little annoyed with whoever it is currently determined to put a gaping hole through my front door.
More banging arises, followed by the muffled sound of voices, both male and female.
I’m so confused right now.
And that’s not just because of pregnancy brain, which is a real thing you know because I Googled it, and if the internet says it’s real, then it must be. But because it’s the middle of the damn night, or morning, however you want to look at it, and no one in their right mind should be banging on someone’s front door at this absurd hour.
Throwing my legs over the edge of the mattress, I slip my feet into my fluffy slippers, then wander blindly down the hallway, flicking on the living room light.
Stretching up onto my toes, I look through the peephole. I suck in a breath, my mind racing when I see Reed Devlin of all people standing in the hallway on the other side of the door.
Brinley is standing beside Reed, yawning widely in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt, and she’s rubbing her eyes.
“Cassie?” A familiar, yet slurry voice commands, “Open up.”
When I unlock the dead bolt, and yank open the door, Quinn practically falls through it. He stumbles, and Reed only just manages to catch him before he faceplants at my feet.
“Jesus, Quinn,” the lead singer grumbles under his breath while repositioning his drunken bandmate firmly against his side. He lifts Quinn’s arm up over his shoulder, gripping his T-shirt as they stumble into the living room. “Brinley, babe, help me get him on the couch.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, stepping out of the way.
Brinley puts her hands on her hips. “I believe this belongs to you.”
“I, uh…I guess so?”
“Tink!” Reed shrieks. “A little help, please. He’s fucking heavy.”
Brinley rushes to Reed’s side, and I watch as they position Quinn carefully down on the couch. Though the second his backside hits the cushions, it’s like watching a landslide in motion, and he tumbles straight onto the floor, his backside hitting the floorboards with a heavy thud.
Quinn grunts, then slowly opens his eyes, staring up at me. “Hey, Alabama.” He grins, but it’s not the grin I’ve fallen in love with. This grin is sloppy, and his words are slurred, and he smells like he’s been pickled at a brewery.
“Sorry about this,” says Reed. His hair falls into his eyes when he bends down to scoop Quinn back up again, and I slide beneath Quinn’s other arm this time to help him back up onto the couch. “He come to see me. He wanted to talk. We had a few beers. I stopped drinking a while back. Against my better advice, Quinn did not.”
“I can see that.”
“I offered to let him sleep it off at my place or take him home, but he insisted we bring him here. He wanted to see you.”
“Lucky me.”
He positions the drunken giant at one end of the couch and then lets him go. Quinn topples face-first into the cushions.
And he’s out like a light.
Reed kicks the bottom of Quinn’s shoe, I’m guessing to make sure he’s actually still alive.
A grunt. Good, that’s good.
“Are you going to be alright with him?” Brinley asks, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms, trying to ward off the goose bumps I notice covering her skin.
I nod, though the slightly worried frown on my face most likely tells a different story altogether .
“Just let him sleep it off.” Reed steps away from the couch, sliding his hand into Brinley’s, linking fingers with her. “He’ll be fine by the morning. If he’s not, or if you’re worried about anything at all, please call me.”
I grab my cell phone from the coffee table and hand it to Reed. He punches in his phone number and then calls his own phone from mine, so that way he’s got my number too.
He smiles as he hands my phone back. “And I hear congratulations are in order. The Cold Neptune family is growing, and for what it’s worth, you have our total support. I think you’re both going to make great parents.” His hand rests lightly on my shoulder before he heads to the door. “He knows he screwed up, Cassie. Just talk to him, okay? Give him a chance to explain.”
Brinley’s lips twitch, and then she sighs. “Wow, baby, that was so sweet. You think we’ll make good parents too, one day?”
He screws up his face in horror. Or like maybe he’s just sucked on a rotten lemon. “Fuck off, Tink. I don’t even like babies, you know that. They’re too fucking floppy. Useless. Boring. We’d suck as parents.”
I blink in confusion.
But Brinley doesn’t seem offended in the slightest. Not even a little bit. A wide smile splits her face in half, and then she snorts with laughter. “We would, huh? Like, totally suck. I’m so glad you said it, and not me. There’s no way I’m getting knocked up until I’m really old, like…at least thirty-five.”
Reed shudders, dramatically. “Even then, it might be too soon. Night, Cassie. We’ll lock the door on the way out. Good luck with him. And call me if you need me. ”
“Thanks, Reed.”
Brinley adds, “And your secret is safe with us. We won’t mention a word of it to anyone, especially not Nick.”
And then they’re gone.
The door clicks, and I turn slowly, walking across the room to stare down at the enormous pile of rock star sprawled across my couch. One jean-clad leg is hanging over the edge, his head buried deep between the cushions.
I should be angry at him. I should be so angry. I should be hurt. I should be offended. I should be a whole lot of things right now, but honestly, all I am is really tired and really confused, and all the while growing a human being inside my body, the thought of which I’m still trying to wrap my head around.
Tossing a blanket over Quinn’s shoulders, I leave him to sleep it off on my couch. I guess everything else can just wait until tomorrow.
Climbing back into bed, I pull the covers up, wondering how we ended up here. How did we go from having such a wonderful time together, sneaking around, having so much fun, having incredible sex, which, by the way I’m never doing again because the consequences of penetration, ugh …to where we are now?
Quinn might not have wanted this. But neither did I. He didn’t get a choice in it. Me either. But we’ve both been thrown into the deep end, whether we like it or not.
Plans have been disrupted; life’s goals aren’t what they were just a few days ago, shit they aren’t even what they were when I woke up this morning, and now here we are with the contents of my womb fashioning a lifelong bond between us .
A permanent connection.
Rolling over onto my side to face the window, I slide my hand beneath my pajama top, rubbing my fingers gently over my stomach.
I really hope it doesn’t come to it, but if we have to do this alone, little bug, we will.
We’ll be okay.
“Quinn!”
I kick the end of the couch for a second time. He doesn’t budge. Enough of this. I’ve already been for a run, made coffee, and done two loads of laundry.
It’s close to ten o’clock.
The sun is shining outside, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Given that I have the whole day to myself, I don’t plan on wasting it babysitting a fully grown man who really ought to know better.
I plan on studying and writing the conclusion for my final paper. I’m so close to the end now I can practically taste it.
“Quinn!” I shout again.
His head jerks up, eyes wide as he looks around. “Huh?”
“Time to get up, sleepyhead. Here…” I place a steamy mug of coffee down on the table in front of him, as well as a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen. Extra strength. Because I’m not completely heartless.
I’ve had hangovers in the past, the degrees of which were wide and varied. I’m not a monster, despite what anyone tells you. I may have thrown the curtains open with a little too much enthusiasm, but bright, natural light is good for your constitution.
Or so I’m told.
Okay fine, I totally just made that up.
But watching Quinn shield his eyes from the blinding rays of sunlight bursting into my apartment is amusing to say the least.
“Cassie?”
“Take the pills, sip the coffee.”
Slowly, Quinn sits up straight on the couch, rubbing his eyes. “How did I end up here?”
“Reed.”
That’s all I say. He can figure out the rest in his own time.
Hands in his hair, he looks up at me, and if I thought his eyes were red last night, in the light of day they’re so much more than that. They’re bloodshot, rimmed with purple, and he looks like death. Smells like it too, even worse than he did last night. Nothing like a good combination of stale sweat, alcohol, and morning breath to kill the mood.
And yet, even with his hair sticking out in every direction, and his clothes misaligned, that same something that’s pulled me to him right from the very beginning still burns brightly like a magnetic force begging me to get closer to the flame.
I just hope I don’t get burned.
I don’t think I could survive it. Not again.
“Go take a shower,” I tell him. “I’ll make us some breakfast, and then we can talk. I don’t think you’ll fit out the bathroom window if you’re thinking of doing a runner again, but try all you want. Seeing your ass dangling from the third-floor window might actually be worth it.”
He stands, groans, heads for the bathroom. “I guess I deserve that.”
“Why, yes, you do.” I couldn’t sound any chirpier if I tried.
Quinn pauses in the hallway, his large frame taking up the better part of the narrow space. He doesn’t turn around to face me, but I can see his shoulders lift and then fall, as if he’s just taken an enormous breath.
Or maybe he was about to say something before changing his mind.
“There are fresh towels in the linen closet,” I tell the back of his head. “And there’s a new toothbrush and plenty of toothpaste under the sink.”
Quinn doesn’t linger or comment. He simply nods his head and disappears into the bathroom. I hear the curtain rings slide open, and then the shower turns on. And not once while I’m scrambling eggs in a bowl, do I let myself imagine what the highly muscled guitarist looks like in there all naked and wet and masculine.
I swear I don’t. Not even once.
Okay, so maybe I do a little bit, but it must be all the pregnancy hormones. Yes. Let’s blame it on the hormones.
God, I’m so screwed.