Chapter 39
“WATERCOLOR EYES” BY LANA DEL REY
After taking Yuri to the farm and leaving her in one of the stalls, I tried to go home. I had sat in my driveway for ten minutes trying to walk through the door, but I couldn’t. My brain continued to circle back to the dangers Quinntessa was in.
I reentered the manor close to one in the morning. The back door was still open, leaving a chilling breeze through the older home.
I squeezed my eyes shut and sat on the bottom of the narrow staircase. Without Scrabble, there wasn’t anyone here to protect her. I knew this was my fault, but I couldn’t help but be angry with Sebastian.
Or whoever the fuck he was.
He left his daughter here all alone, without any protection.
He let her go to their appointment with Amanda alone to be shredded emotionally.
He allowed her to be bullied at school by the insufferable straight white men agenda.
She was alone. She was alone, crying herself to sleep after a dog attack, and her mother and father were assholes.
I leaned forward and pressed my hands into my eyes, trying to rid my thoughts from my head. Everything was overwhelming. I could hear the soft whimpers upstairs. Even in her sleep, Quinntessa was running for her life.
I wanted to hold her, kiss her tears away, and feel her relax into me. I knew I made her feel safe. I could protect her better than her deadbeat father.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.
I’d blurred this assignment and feelings far too much.
For friends, for boyfriends, for people I was supposed to keep an eye on—I was playing a risky game, and it wouldn’t end easily for either of us.
Someone had to get hurt in the end, and in this case, it would always be Quinntessa.
My mind raced through all our interactions. I rubbed the heel of my hands into my eyes to shove them away, but all it did was make each flash more violent.
The day we meet in the parking lot, seeing her father holding the gun to her face, sitting beside her in the library, peeking into her Mustang to see she was asleep, holding a gun to her head, hugging her so long in the choir room, my entire world started to spin .
. . I liked every memory because she was there.
No, they weren’t always my fondest memories, but she was there.
Some part of her was there for me to see, smell, touch, hold.
I slowly stood from the stairs and quietly ventured up each step at a snail’s pace. My hand pressed against the complex design of the stained glass window and rested my forehead against it.
“I’ll keep you safe.” The words fell from my lips so quietly, I could hear a train in the distance louder. I looked up the narrow stairwell, leaning back against the faded walls. “I’ll keep you safe.”
A soft melody danced into my head as my foot swung out. I caught myself on the banister before the step could creek, swinging around and landing higher up.
I stopped, my humming halting as I listened closely for Quinntessa. She didn’t make any sounds, either asleep or terrified of me. I inhaled deeply and continued up the stairs, listening to the unfamiliar melody in my head.
My eyes scanned the bedroom Quinntessa had taken refuge inside and froze.
It looked different from this angle, but the window still laid a halo of moonlight over her.
I leaned against the doorframe and licked my lips, wondering if she slept with her head by the footboard because she was too tired to fix herself or because she fell asleep watching for her father’s truck on the road.
Could it be possible she watched for my motorcycle? That thought filled my stomach with butterflies. I’d caught her multiple times peeking out when I drove past. Her father was home those days, so she had to be looking for me.
Quinntessa accepted my invitation to hang out. She confirmed she was bisexual, which I figured at least a bit. She was a pretty little baby gay, and maybe this was something I could test. I’d never dated a girl before. If she was anyone else, I’d already have her arching off the bed with my tongue.
My shoulders drooped, and I drifted further into her room, careful of my steps along the old floors.
I liked her. I liked Quinntessa. I couldn’t get enough of her, and I wanted her. I wanted her in my life, in my arms . . . at the end of my gun.
“Fuck,” I breathed out.
Estelle was my daughter. I couldn’t choose between them. A small argument today, and Papa almost had Quinntessa ripped to shreds and my daughter shipped off. I couldn’t lose both of them, so I had to choose.
I had to choose Estelle. I could take my time and protect Quinntessa until she turned eighteen, then take her out. With a gun, not for dinner. I’d keep her at the end of a very long stick and enjoy the time I had with Mustang.
And her sweet fucking face.
I reached out and ran the back of my finger down her freckled cheek. It pained me to see how puffy her eyes were, feeling the tears behind them.
I tugged my lip rings into my mouth as I rubbed her smooshed cheek.
She laid with her Tow Mater pillow pet tight in her arms, blanket tangled once again in her limbs.
Her eyelids moved every so often, showing she wasn’t that asleep, only enough to be held hostage by those dark worlds inside her head.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, twirling my finger around a small curl that had fallen over her eyebrow and pushing it out of the way. “I’ll keep you safe, Sal.”
I wondered if she’d hate me if she knew I was here, how much I saw of her when she couldn’t possibly see me. She was na?ve and too damn good for this world.
She was intoxicating. A drug. A steroid that made my blood pressure rise at the smallest thought of her. She had my name, and I was reminded of her on the football field, smiling in the end zone or lifting her shirt to reveal her adorable stomach and sexy curves to clean her face of sweat.
I ripped my hand back and glared down at her.
She made me so excited, so fearless. She put thoughts in my head only a wicked witch could produce. Quinntessa manipulated my brain with her hypnotic, toxin-infused skin that made me never want to stop touching her.
Look at that face.
Look at the way her pink lips, still littered with glitter, pouted. Count every freckle like it was a constellation in the sky, an entire universe on her face so close, I could kiss it. Her wild brows were soft under my thumb, and her little ears were adorable.
I wanted it all to myself.
The boys called her princess. She didn’t like that. I wondered if she’d like it better if I did it.
On a quiet inhale, my shaky hand reached out and ghosted over her head where a crown would sit within her hair. She’d look good in gold, like a princess of the stars.
“You’ll look so beautiful in a golden halo, Honeybee,” I whispered, leaning down and hovering my face close to hers.
Much like the choir room, I turn my head to kiss her cheek. This time, I waited a few extra seconds before peeling my lips from her skin.
My feet carried me back down the stairs, where I waited until five and left out the back door to watch her window from Miss Angie’s bushes. Despite the hours between then and when I’d finally gathered the courage to knock on her front door, my lips tingled, and I imagined I had kissed her lips.