Chapter 55 #2
Did I mention she was stubborn as hell? Because I genuinely wanted to kick her ass when she came stumbling through the door before I could put myself into a nicotine coma.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I snapped, slamming the window shut and standing from the bench. “Please tell me you’re kidding and not chasing me across this entire house!”
“I’ve been trying to call you—text you!” she began her whining. “You could have texted me back. Rude.”
I pursed my lips and stared at her pouty lip.
She was right. I knew what I could have done. This could have been easier, but Quinntessa wasn’t going to give up easy. I needed to make her give up. She needed to be the one who decided to get the hell away from me if she wanted to survive this for even a little longer.
“I’m not obligated to do shit, Mustang.” I tried to look as disinterested as possible. Pain flashed through her eyes, making my struggle a thousand times harder. “Now go back to your party. You sound like you’ve been having fun.”
I glared at her, mustering up the most hateful look I could turn on her.
“You dropped off the face of the Earth, Quincy! What . . .” Her pretty eyes swam with fear. It broke my heart to see her struggling to form words on how she felt. “What was I supposed to do?”
There’s a crack in her voice. It was small and barely noticeable, but it felt like a knife stuck my chest, twisting and turning with each uncertain breath.
“I didn’t drop off anywhere,” I hissed, stalking toward her.
Give up, Quinntessa. Just give up on me.
“Just because I’m not on the face of your Earth—chasing you down when you don’t want me—does not mean I’ve done anything wrong!”
I whipped around and faced away from her before the tears prickling in my eyes could get the best of me.
I shouted at her, she flinched, and now, I felt like shit about it.
I felt horrible about everything I’d done to her, but this was the worst. I could feel how much she was struggling with my coldness toward her.
“Well, I didn’t like it.”
“Didn’t like . . .” I glanced over my shoulder. “What didn’t you like?”
“Not seeing you,” she whispered.
The burning in my eyes brings me back around to face away from her.
Every time I look into those eyes, it gets harder. Why does she have to torture me?
“We read every morning. I waited for?—”
“Mustang, enough.” I closed my eyes and hung my head with shame.
“And you didn’t show.” Quinntessa’s voice was quiet, weak. I could hear the tremble of her exhaling. “I wanted you there with me, and you didn’t show. You always do.”
I scoffed, this time with more disgust. Did she think I was too stupid to pay attention to her reading habits?
“You don’t think I haven’t noticed you already finished the book?” I shook my head. “Don’t bother wasting your time on me. It’s not worth it. Focus on your little football game and stop pitying me.”
She frowned. “I’ve never?—”
“Listen to your daddy, Princess.” I rubbed my face and set my jaw. The burn in my eyes was enough to fuel the hard scowl across my features. “I’m not good for you.”
Quinntessa’s pain masked with confusion. I wasn’t going to stay here and let her push and push until she got what she wanted like the princess she was. Although, like the stubborn little shit she was, she slid into my path and blocked me from leaving the bedroom.
“Get out of my way,” I warned.
“Shut up,” she snapped back at me.
I stumbled back as her hands struck me in the stomach, shoving me out of her space. A growl left my chest as I stepped up to her, ready to really frighten her, but she apparently read my mind and shoved me back again.
“I am so fucking tired of everyone telling me what’s good for me. You are not going to tell me what’s good for me when you don’t know anything about what’s good for me!”
Quinntessa was too close to me. My veins were on fire, my eyes threatening to fill with tears as each inhale brought the tiniest amount of her perfume into my nostrils. I clenched my fists tight, digging my nails into my palms.
“I am not your toy,” she continued, shoving me back again. “You are not going to come into my life and treat me better than everyone else has, just to throw me in a charity box and leave at the first sight of something easier to play with.”
“Sally, I . . .” My heart sank, hands opening at her assumption. She was drunk. Her emotions were everywhere. “I never played with you. This is far more complicated than you could understand. Your daddy?—”
“My dad doesn’t know anything about you,” Quinntessa scoffed. “I don’t care what he thinks. He doesn’t know you like I do!”
“You’re a liar.” I gritted my teeth, taking a small step forward to advance against her fib. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?”
“Excuse me?” she hiccupped uncomfortably, falling back from that strong state she tried to uphold.
“You think—” I stepped closer and raised my chin when she tried to stand taller.
Her sweet face couldn’t look less threatening to me.
“I know your dad isn’t some paper plant guy.
I’m on fucking probation, and you think I don’t know what an undercover cop looks like?
My father’s inches from going to prison, and your daddy is the one who’s following us around like?—”
“He’s not after you, though!” she blurted out. “You said yourself, your dad’s the bad guy. He’s a bad person. He’s?—”
“He makes mistakes, but he’s still my father, Quinntessa,” I interrupted her, heart pounding in my chest. We shouldn’t be having this argument. She should be running out the door, running from the monster!
“I don’t control what he does,” she whimpered, her hands flexing as she looked for the right words. “Fuck. Fuck!”
My brows raised in surprise to her cursing.
“We aren’t our parents, Quincy. Why does this matter if we’re not our parents? I’m not a cop, and you’re not a?—”
A monster.
A beast.
A killer.
A heartless, soulless waste of space.
“A criminal?” I snorted. If only she knew criminal was the best way to label me. “Yeah. I am.”
“No,” she protested.
“If you were here months before, I’d been on an ankle monitor,” I confessed. “How does that feel to hear? Hm? How do you think I’m stuck doing community service at that dog kennel?”
“Can you stop feeling so sorry for yourself all the time?” Quinntessa grabbed me by the jacket and yanked me closer to her. My eyes flashed with disappointment, memories of our kiss the other night making me weak in the knees. “You are not a criminal!”
My bottom lip trembled. I blinked back tears and tried my hardest not to cry. She looked up at me with such desperation, her eyes red as she held back tears.
“And . . . and don’t act like you don’t love the dogs. You love Scrabble. I-I love Scrabble. I love that you love Scrabble, and that you . . . You aren’t a criminal. That’s my point, that you’re not a criminal.”
My hands raised to the side of her face. I ghosted her cheeks, wanting nothing more than to take them into my hands and kiss her again. I couldn’t. This was it. This was where I did something right for once and let her go.
I have to keep Estelle safe. I have to let Quinntessa’s death run its course. She didn’t need to die attached to me when she could spend the next few months living her best life, going to homecoming with someone much nicer than me.
“I’m dangerous to you, Sally,” I whispered. My fingers wrapped around her hands and took my jacket back from her. I held my breath at the feeling of her soft skin. “It’s best if you don’t get attached. You have a chance of getting out of here.”
“A little late,” Quinntessa sniffled.
“For?” I frowned.
“Me not to get attached,” she confessed, her words slurring together as a single tear ran down her cheek. I fought the urge to brush it away. “I am attached. I want to be. I want to get to know you, McQuinn.”
McQuinn?
That was new.
“Mc . . .” My eyebrows slid up my forehead. “Quinn?”
“Like Lightning McQueen,” Quinntessa quietly mumbled, hanging her head as she toyed with the fabric of her knitted sweater. “Because . . . because you call me Sally. I just thought . . . I think it’s cute and fits you well because you drive so fast—so fast—and you remind me of his Kachow!”
Oh, she was so fucking cute.
I cooed. I broke and dropped my guard and let that adorable woman slither her way back into my heart with a little pop of her lip and weak little finger guns. She’s such an awkward little baby-bi. I wanted to put her in my pocket and drive until the sun went down.
My hands flew up to hold her pouty face. Satan, her cheeks were so damn soft, squishing in my hands as I slid into her front. I bit back a laugh, airily letting it release from me moments later.
You know when you push a little snow around and it builds up into a snowball? It felt like that. It felt like she pushed me around until I couldn’t stop feeling. She was magical—a sinfully beautiful potion who stole everything from me.
I wanted her to take everything I had to give. And more.
My lips pressed lightly against her sweet face, fighting back the urge to pepper all along those star constellations of hers. I’ve never seen such beautiful freckles. I’ve never even cared about girls with freckles until she came along.
“Babe, Sally from Radiator Springs is a Porsche, not a Mustang,” I gave her a painful smile. “I call you Sally because you remind me of Mustang Sally and how much I love riding to that song. You were—are—the girl who doesn’t need me. You and your car.”
And because it breaks my heart to say your name. I tried every nickname I could think of, but you still ruined me. It haunts me how much control you have. You haunt me, Quinntessa.
“But I do need you,” She let her head lull back as she pouted.
I sighed and shook my head.
“I kinda like my idea better, though,” Quinntessa added, eyes filling with hope. “Because Sally and McQuinn end up together in all three movies! They support each other. They-they’re like goofy idiots who get together and be happy.”
Oh, my sweet girl.