Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
QUINN
I’m kissing Florence. It’s happening.
And it’s the best fucking kiss I’ve experienced in my entire life.
I’ve told women I love them on the basis of kisses half as good as this one. I feel like she’s rewiring me from the foundations up, and after this, no kiss in existence is going to measure up.
Actually, let me rephrase that: no woman in existence is going to measure up.
I want her. Wait, no. I need her.
But when I open my mouth to tell her as much, she suddenly pulls back, and the hand that was pressed to my chest slips out from under mine.
It feels like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over the roaring fire of my desire and now I’m sitting in a pile of ashes, wet through and utterly bewildered.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mutters, her voice rougher than usual. ‘We weren’t meant to be doing this, were we?’
I can do nothing at all except stare at her. Weren’t we? I don’t remember. I had a full factory reset back there. Not doing this feels like a stupid idea. We should always be doing this.
Then again, a stupid idea? That does sound like me.
She’s looking at me for an answer, but I haven’t got one for her.
I could tell her I love her, that’s my usual move, but from the stricken look on her face, I don’t think that’s going to go down particularly well.
Not to mention that now I’m rethinking every single time those words have left my mouth.
Because if the other times were love, then what the hell is this?
‘I’m sorry…’ I say, and she nods and looks away, but there was a second half of that sentence. It’s just that I’m not sure I can form the words. Because I’m sure as hell not sorry for that kiss.
‘Florence…’ I try, but again, nothing follows it.
Maybe I simply do not have the words, and I can’t tell her with another kiss, because she’s gathering her things together and standing up.
And I’m panicking because I want to say something – something with gravity, something so eloquent and important that it’ll make her stop in her tracks and kiss me again.
But I’m not an eloquent and important kind of guy. I have about as much gravity as Pluto.
So, I don’t say anything.
‘It’s ok,’ she says, and then she smiles. I’m confused because I’m well-versed with women claiming they’re ok, but Florence seems like she actually is. It’s certainly as genuine a smile as I’ve seen on her.
That’s when I realise. We weren’t meant to be doing this. She doesn’t mean because of me, she means because of her. She doesn’t date humans, because humans age and die and break her heart. And there was me, ready, willing and able to do the same damn thing.
And so I force a smile onto my face and hold my hand out. ‘Friends?’
She considers my hand for a moment before she smiles and shakes it, oblivious to the surge of feeling that rockets through me as our skin connects. Maybe one day – maybe one day soon – I won’t be a human either. Maybe we can revisit this.
And until then, I’m going to be the best damn friend Florence Everett ever had.
* * *
My heart is in my throat when I walk through the blood clinic doors. I’m panicking about the blood situation, for sure, but I think I’m more anxious about seeing Florence again.
It’s been three days since we kissed and I haven’t heard a word from her since, so I wondered if the appointment time I was sent from the clinic might have been her way of getting in touch. But when someone almost immediately calls my name, I find it’s not Florence at all. It’s Cam.
‘Quinn,’ he says, shaking my hand firmly. ‘Good to see you again.’
I try to hide my disappointment that I’ve been greeted by entirely the wrong vampire, and grin at him in return. ‘Just upsetting that it’s under these circumstances.’
He laughs. He has a great laugh – warm and robust. It really works with this Young Santa vibe he’s got going on.
‘I won’t take much of your time today,’ he says. ‘We’d just like to repeat the tests we did before to see if things are stable. It might give us a better idea of what you can expect in the coming weeks.’
In all honesty, I don’t really take in what he’s saying, which is probably for the best because if I have properly processed what Cam just said, my anxiety levels would be through the roof.
Instead I’m distracted because I noticed his use of the word ‘we’ and my immediate thought was that maybe Florence is around after all.
Maybe she’s just with another patient and she’s going to appear anytime now.
Maybe I’ll see her on my way out and she’ll mouth a secret message to me over the heads of the people in the waiting room.
Or maybe, I think, my heart falling to my feet, she’s avoiding me.
In my defence, I really do try to make my enquiry about her whereabouts subtle, but I’m sitting on that torture chair and Cam is snapping the blue thing around my arm and he’s saying vaguely sinister things like ‘nice and bouncy’ and ‘just a bit cold’ that I’m sure he means to be reassuring, but actually just make my heart hammer like crazy.
So I do try, but what actually happens is that I blurt out, ‘I thought Florence might be here.’
And, even worse than that, Cam laughs. The bastard laughs, and then he sticks a needle in my arm, and I’m not sure which of those things makes me hate him more.
Ok, fine, I don’t hate him, he’s just doing his job and he’s helping me out. I’m not myself when I’m in this chair.
‘She’s not on shift this afternoon,’ he says, glancing over at me for a second. ‘I actually thought she might be with you.’
My panic intensifies. ‘I, um … what?’
‘Quinn, relax.’ He grins, swapping out the vial of blood for an empty one. I can hear it bubble as it begins to fill and it turns my stomach. ‘I know the two of you have been spending time together. You don’t need to ask my permission. I’m not her dad. She’s actually older than I am.’
That shocks me out of my spiral. ‘She is?’
He huffs a laugh. ‘That was your cue to say, “Oh no, Cameron, you don’t look a day over fifty-five.”’
‘Sorry,’ I mumble. I’m starting to sweat a little now. Cam snaps the last vial out and I look away, just in case I accidentally catch sight of one of the samples and fly into a blind panic.
‘Medical anxiety, eh?’ he says gently, but I shake my head.
‘Blood phobia.’
His eyes widen. ‘Oh.’ He slips the full vials into the pocket of his scrub top and flashes me a sympathetic look. ‘That’s unfortunate, what with the—’
‘Yeah,’ I interrupt, pressing my finger onto the cotton wool ball in the crook of my elbow while Cam tears off some tape.
‘Yikes,’ is what he eventually says, and for some reason it makes both of us laugh. He seems like a good guy, Cam. I can see why Florence has been friends with him so long.
‘Yikes is right.’
He shakes his head with another chuckle as he secures the tape over the cotton ball. ‘Well, the good news is that you’re done here now, so no more of the red stuff for a while.’
‘Thanks, man,’ I say, straightening my shirt and standing from the chair, but just as I’m going to leave, he stops me with a hand on my arm.
‘Look,’ he says in a low voice. ‘I know I’m not as pretty as Florence, but if you need help with anything, my door’s always open. It’s kind of crazy, what you’re going through.’
I smile my thanks, and I should leave it at that, but my mouth is three steps ahead of my brain, like usual, and so I blurt out, ‘I think she’s avoiding me.’
Cam rocks back on his heels, studying me through his wire-framed glasses. ‘Oh yeah?’
I mean, I’ve already overshared, I may as well commit to it. Plus, Cam’s a doctor and they have the whole confidentiality thing, don’t they?
‘We kissed a few days ago and she hasn’t spoken to me since.’
He watches me for a moment, his brows tugging together in thought, before his face relaxes into an almost-smile and he nods. ‘Ok,’ he says eventually.
I’m confused. ‘Ok?’
‘Quinn,’ he says, his expression softening, ‘I don’t know if you know this about her yet, but Florence is not someone who loves easily. As far as I know, she’s only done it once, and that was a century and a half ago.’
‘Josiah?’ I ask, remembering our first interaction and the way Florence came at me.
Cam stops, assessing me carefully from behind those wire-framed glasses. ‘She told you about him?’
He sounds shocked, or maybe something softer than that. Surprised, perhaps.
‘Not really,’ I reply, because she didn’t. Not beyond that one simple fact, anyway. ‘Just that they were engaged and he was killed.’
Cam nods soberly. ‘A few weeks before they were due to get married.’ He scrubs a hand over his stubble, his expression tightening. ‘She was completely in love with him, and when he died, it tore her apart.’ His eyes flick back up to mine. ‘When we lost him, I honestly thought we’d lose her too.’
His voice thins on the last few words and he looks away from me quickly, blinking a few times before his eyes meet mine again. ‘The strangest part is that you look just like him.’
I knew this, of course, but it feels different in the context of whatever Florence and I are now. It was just the strange coincidence that brought us together at first, but now a much darker thought crosses my mind.
Does she only want me because I look like him?
I don’t want to think that about her. God knows she’s given me no reason at all not to trust her, but now the thought has implanted itself into my brain I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to get it out.
I try to say something but the only thing that comes out is an oh sound, which Cam seems to take as a question.
‘Yeah,’ he replies sadly. ‘Anyway, I’m just saying…
And it’s hard on her being back here too, with it being the place where she lost him.
’ His shrug feels laboured, like he’d take on some of that pain for her if he could.
I know how he feels. ‘But she likes you, I can tell. She probably just needs time.’
Time. Just time.
You know, that thing I don’t have a lot of.
I blow out a breath, more conscious than ever of this whole vampire business hanging over my head, of the constant, vague threat of the unknown that lurks just outside of my grasp.
‘What if I don’t have time?’ I ask, as a cold shiver races its way across my skin. When Cam smiles this time, it’s almost solemn – a world away from his usual chipper grin.
‘I wish I could answer that for you,’ he says, one hand brushing his hair back from his face.
‘I wish I could tell you that these things always have a way of working themselves out. But I’ve worked in healthcare for a long, long time and the honest answer is that in this life there are winners and there are losers and all you can realistically do is enjoy your time while it lasts and hope like hell you’re one of the lucky ones. ’
My heart thumps out one of its extra beats and I rub my chest with the heel of my hand to ease it. I don’t like leaving things to chance. All the good things I have in my life now are there because I’ve worked my arse off for them.
Fate, historically, has not been on my side. So hoping for the best, in my book, generally means bracing for the worst. But I like Cam, and I appreciate his candour, so I smile and hold out my hand.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says, and as his hand grips mine his mouth quirks back up into that knowing grin I’ve seen on him before.
It makes me feel a tiny bit flustered, I can’t lie.
It must be part of his supernatural skillset because I consider myself to be completely straight, as a general rule, but Cam’s charm transcends the laws of attraction.
By the time he lets go of my hand, I’m pretty sure I’m blushing.
I nod a goodbye and turn for the door, but just as I get there, Cam speaks again.
‘Quinn?’
‘Hmm?’ I reply, looking back at him over my shoulder.
‘Don’t give up on her,’ he says, his grin widening into something bright and genuine. ‘She’s worth it.’
I breathe out a little half-laugh. ‘I won’t.’
Because I already know that. I knew it from the moment I saw her.
I don’t like to hope for the best, but as I walk out of the clinic with the world on my shoulders, it feels like hoping is the only thing I can do.