Chapter Forty-Seven
Harley - Present Day
I woke up this morning with Quinn in my arms, and all was right with the world. We’re about halfway through her sessions now. She’s recovering more memories than processing, but it’s a starting point and something we can continue over time.
She stirs beside me as she wakes up, then turns to take in her
surroundings, and when her eyes land on me, they light up. “Good morning, Bones. So last night really happened then?”
“Yes, baby. Yes, it did. Any regrets?”
“Never. Although my body doesn’t appreciate all of the positions you put me in. It kills.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about—”
She puts a finger to my lips. “Ssshh. I was only joking. It’s a nice distraction from the usual pain. And something I could be convinced to do again.” She blushes and hides her head in my chest.
“Stop that right now.” I lift her head, forcing her to look at me. “You never need to be embarrassed with me.”
“I know. It’s just easier said than done.”
She lies there for a second before a look of pure panic registers on her face. “What is it?” I ask.
“I’ve come on my period,” she says, looking mortified.
“Okay? And?”
“And I’m naked and have bled all over your bed.”
“I’ll say again, and?”
“You’re not bothered?”
“Baby, you’re a woman. It’s a natural thing. Periods don’t scare me. Sheets can be washed, stains can be removed. I’ll go and run you a bath to help with the cramps.”
I climb out of bed and pull on some tracksuit bottoms. Once in the bathroom, I turn on the hot water and pour some Epsom salts into the bottom of the bath and some lavender relaxing bubble bath and light a candle.
I leave it to run as I head downstairs to let Ted out and grab some cleaning supplies, painkillers, a hot drink, some pads from the big bathroom, some clean clothes and the book she’s reading from her room.
On my way back up, I grab fresh bedding out of the cupboard and pile it on the end of the bed.
“Come on then.” I reach for her, and she lets me pull her to the end of the bed but hides her body. “Do you want a T-shirt to wear while you wait?” She shakes her head. “No, I want to be okay with you seeing my body. Exposure therapy, right?”
“That’s my girl. Whenever you’re ready.”
She reaches back up for my hands and lets the quilt drop. Blood tinges her thighs, and I automatically feel bad for going so hard last night when I knew she was having cramps. “Don’t do that,” she says. “Don’t regret it. I told you to do it. I consented, and I don’t regret a thing.”
“Get out of my head, you little freak.” I lead her to the bathroom by her hand and help her get in.
I know it’s hard with her lack of mobility to lift her legs over the sides, so I stay close until she’s seated inside.
“Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll wash your hair for you.
” Too weary to even argue with me, she just nods her head and leans back against the bath pillow.
I head back into the room and get to work changing the bedding and cleaning up any residual stains.
It’s not as bad as she thinks it is, but even if it was, I’d still clean it up.
It’s not her fault. I know her well enough to know that it’s better for her if I remove any evidence without her seeing it.
One Week Later
As we had predicted, the news of her mum's death hit Quinn hard. We extended the offer to visit her in the chapel of rest at the crematory—not that her mother deserved it—and she decided she wanted to go. Seeing her dead body, I think, was closure enough to show she can begin to move on, but also a realisation that she’s never going to get the answers that she so badly needed.
According to Lulu, though, based on her attitude before she died, no matter what, Quinn would never have gotten that.
Through different connections, her family has been notified, and a suicide note was provided based on the one held in police evidence from years ago.
They were informed they’re unable to view her body due to the state of the prolonged exposure in the water, and they’re currently burying an empty box in the same graveyard my mum and dad are in.
I had to laugh when Quinn picked it out.
It’s in perfect view of the spot she wanted to die at; the same spot her mum did die at.
If there is an afterlife, she’ll be tortured by those moments for eternity. Pretty apt if you ask me.
We postponed Quinn’s therapy for a week or so to give her time to come to terms with it, but today she’s ready to get back to it.
I think she should give herself more time, but she’s insistent.
She just wants to get on with it. My little magpie is resilient, so who am I to argue with her?
She’s been thinking about her dad lately.
She’s still not ready to reach out to him directly, but she sent a card to him to let him know she was thinking of him.
I thought that was more than he deserved, but she said she’s realising that he was being abused as much as she was.
She didn’t ask Lulu for details, and they weren't offered up. But she knows if she wants them, all she needs to do is ask. Her emotions are a lot more controlled now that she’s around regulated people. She’s able to filter herself and seems to be coming into her own more and more.
The last week she’s been very focused on her revenge plan for Eric; I don’t think I’m going to be able to put that off for much longer.
Her night terrors have increased, a sign that her PTSD has been triggered, which I think is to be expected when you lose a parent.
Especially one who’s abused you for your entire life.
I pull open the freezer and pull out my ice cube tray. I had spent plenty of time doing my research and preparing for this moment. So, when I came down to the kitchen the night we had sex for the first time, everything was ready for me.
My little magpie has become an obsession.
She’s infiltrated my bones, my veins, the blood that travels through my body.
But today, I want to consume her in a different way.
My go-to drink is a blonde iced vanilla latte, with extra pumps of vanilla, of course, because I can’t actually stand the bitterness of coffee.
And what does an iced latte need? Lots of ice, of course.
I didn’t expect Quinn to squirt for me the other night, let alone the amount she did, but I was determined to at least attempt to make it happen.
When she did, my instincts took over, and I wanted to freeze her juices for later consumption.
Yes, I know, I’m a fucking freak. The doctor side of me screams no, but the kinky side of me is on board.
According to my extensive research, freezing upon release is the best way to go because bacteria will start growing when it’s kept at room temperature.
I don’t know about you, but there’s no part of me that wants to encourage bacteria to grow from my woman’s juices.
But if that’s what kills me off, what a fucking way to go.
I, however, do not encourage you to do this at home.
If you choose to do so, though, you should put it into the deepest part of the freezer and away from any food items to avoid contamination.
Which is perfect because I need to do a food shop anyway, so it was already empty.
When Quinn said she needed a drink straight after, it was like the juice gods were on board with my plan, so I poured it into the ice cube container and stuck it in the freezer, ready for my iced coffee the next morning.
That obviously didn’t happen, so here I am a week later making it instead.
Hopefully there isn’t a best-before date.
I open the freezer and pull out the container.
I only had enough to make a few, but it’s enough.
The sound as I pop them out is even more stunning than usual, and they clatter into the glass awaiting their fate.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I pull one back out and pop it in my mouth.
Taste tests are important, after all. There’s no distinct flavour, which doesn’t bother me; it’s more the knowledge of knowing what it is.
My coffee finishes brewing, and I add the vanilla and milk to my glass before dumping the espresso shot on top and finishing it off with a little bit of whipped cream.
At the sound of the whipped cream, Ted appears at my feet for the cream tax. Like father, like son, what can I say? I stir the coffee, giving it time to adjust to the temperature and take a sip just as Quinn walks through the door. She takes one look at me and my drink, and it’s like she knows.
“I’ve never tasted anything so good.” I wink at her.
“Please tell me that is not what I think it is…” She laughs as she walks over to me, sliding her hands around my waist and standing on her tiptoes for me to meet her for a kiss.
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“You, Dr Bones, are the freakiest fucker I’ve ever met in my life.”
“Hey! I’m a doctor. It’s only natural for me to want to experiment.” I shrug my shoulders in response as she continues to laugh, and eventually the others join us for breakfast.
“Are you ready to jump back into therapy today? Or do you need some more time?” I ask her sincerely.
“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life.”
“Okay. Eat up. We need you fed and hydrated for today, then.”
She nods. “Hey, guys.” Everyone stops what they’re doing to pay her the attention she deserves.
“I just wanted to say… Thank you. The last week has been rough, but you’ve given me more freedom than I ever could have anticipated.
There was a huge part of me that worried I’d made the wrong decision, but I know now that I didn’t.
I know now that the only way for me to fully move on with my life—our lives—is to rid the world of the remaining evil in my life.
I just wanted you all to know how much I love and appreciate you. ”
“Quinn,” Lulu says, “You have nothing to be thankful for. We do this for complete strangers every month of the year. To do it for you has been a privilege, and I would do it over and over again. As I’m sure, would the others.”
We all nod our heads in response. I reach under the table and squeeze her thigh with my hand before speaking. “The only thanks we need is for you to get better and thrive for the rest of your life.”
“Well, with you guys by my side, I couldn’t do anything but.”
She smiles at me gratefully, and I return the sentiment. “Now, chop chop, eat your food.”
“Yes, sir,” she responds, and I groan whilst everyone else collapses into fits of laughter.