Chapter 12
Graham
She stood frozen by the front door, eyes so wide I feared they might pop out of her skull. I almost laughed at the sight of her, caught sneaking out of my house like some rogue teenager—but I was too tired.
Instead, I watched her, taking a sip of my coffee as her mind decided how she was going to react.
I hadn’t meant to catch her so off guard.
I’d been sitting at the dining room table, eating some breakfast when she’d walked through the kitchen.
She apparently hadn’t seen me—or didn’t know the dining table existed on the opposite side of the kitchen.
I scanned her face, looking for any signs of pain, but there was mostly shock and surprise. She’d gained some color in her face since last night. Her lip was more bruised, but she looked like she’d showered.
The longer we stared at each other, the more composure she regained until she started seeming almost like herself again—the hard coldness settling back into her eyes.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Where do you think you were going?”
She lifted her chin, the cool defiance returning in full force. “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I’d just…slip out.”
I took another sip of coffee, hiding my smile. I licked my lips as I lowered the mug.
“And what vehicle were you planning on ‘slipping out’ in?”
She blinked, and I watched as she fought the look of embarrassment. It seemed she’d completely forgotten that her car was still parked back at the library. She recovered quickly, though, and shrugged.
“It’s not far. I was going to walk back to my car.”
I narrowed my eyes. She damn well shouldn’t joke about that.
“You’re still recovering,” I said sharply.
“I’m fine.” She looked away. “Like you said, I’m feeling much better this morning.”
My jaw ticced. She was definitely back to her usual self.
I tried not to shift on my feet as I looked her over again. Though her head was held high, there was a slight hunch in her shoulders. When she’d been walking, her arm had been wrapped protectively around her ribs. She had to be in pain.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re not hurting,” I said softly.
She grimaced, shooting me a glare. But she didn’t argue.
I gave her a small, sad smile. “How about you stay a little longer?”
Her nose wrinkled like the thought was repulsive.
“Why?”
I lifted my mug. “Have some coffee with me. And some breakfast. Then I promise, I’ll bring you back to your car.”
She stared at the mug in longing. I let the silence stretch while she decided what she wanted to do. If I spoke, it might annoy her enough to refuse me.
Finally, her shoulders dropped. “I guess I could have some coffee.”
I stifled a grin. “Come on.”
I led her toward the dining area. A carafe of coffee sat on top of the little round table, accompanied by a pitcher of ice-cold water. I’d set out a bowl of fresh fruit and some bagels with different spreads, sliced avocado, and bacon on the side.
Quinn took in the food, then raised her brows at me. It was obvious I’d been expecting her to eat with me. I shrugged and sat down at one of the two plates I’d set out.
“I wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of if you were hungry,” I said nonchalantly, noticing the way her expression hardened as she eased onto the chair across from me.
She grabbed the coffee, poured some into the mug, and wrapped both hands around the ceramic, inhaling the steam that billowed from the top.
I took a bite of my half-eaten bagel with plain cream cheese and pretended to keep reading my book. I tried to ignore her as much as possible, hoping that if I didn’t look directly at her, I wouldn’t scare her off. She was quiet as I kept an eye on her in my periphery.
She drank her coffee slowly, savoring every drop. She stared blankly down into the mug between sips, her blinks slow and heavy, like she was about to fall asleep.
I could relate.
I wasn’t sure I’d gotten any real sleep last night.
I’d been too worried about her. Even when I tried to rest between the times she needed to take her medicine, I never quite got there.
As soon as the sun rose, I got out of bed and cleaned.
Then Mom stopped by to drop off the fresh clothes she’d gathered for Quinn.
Something else had changed last night, too. I’d been trying to ignore it, but as I watched Quinn, it was clear that I had taken on the role of looking out for her in a more involved way than I’d ever anticipated. My indifference toward her was gone.
I tried not to smile when she reached for some bacon. I was relieved she felt well enough to eat. I kept pretending to read while she ate the entire strip, then took some fruit and poured herself water. It wasn’t until she went for a second helping of fruit that I finally looked up at her.
I didn’t say anything, but she instantly tensed when she noticed my attention. My heart rate picked up—and not because she was staring back at me with those winter-blue eyes of hers.
Sometimes, I was still shocked by how pale they were…verging on silver. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anyone with such an interesting color. I’d always been told my robin’s-egg blue ones were pretty, but they didn’t compare to hers.
“What?” she snapped when I continued to hold her gaze without saying anything.
Anxiety spiked—cold and agitating—in my chest. From the moment I’d gotten out of bed that morning, I’d been dreading this conversation. It had to be done, but I wasn’t sure how she’d take it.
I pulled in a slow, deep breath. Nervousness crossed her face, as if she felt the energy radiating off me.
“We need to talk about something,” I said carefully, “and I need you to hear me out.”
Her eyebrows lowered, sharp and disapproving. “What do you need to talk to me about?”
I closed my book. “We need to discuss reporting what happened to you to the police.”
I said it as softly and gently as I could, but she still flinched.
She didn’t pause before saying, “No.”
I’d expected that. I tried to keep my face impartial and nodded because I wanted to be understanding. I didn’t know exactly what had happened to her in her past, but something about the police clearly triggered her—which made everything harder.
“You wouldn’t have to go to the station,” I explained, trying to put her at ease. “I’m friendly with a detective. He’s a good guy, Quinn. I can have him meet with you here to talk, or wherever you’d feel comfortable.”
She’d gone pale again, her top lip curling. “No.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
I let her calm down for a minute. A strange urge to reach across the table and touch her clenched hand came over me, but I ignored it.
I didn’t want her to have to go to the police if the mere mention of it made her tremble. Ideally, I’d go to my brothers about this. If things were normal, I would’ve texted them last night and had the whole investigation started already.
Reid used to be a detective, and August would know exactly what to do—how to help me figure out who attacked her.
But since that last meeting with them, I didn’t feel comfortable asking for their help with Quinn.
Things hadn’t gotten any better. August and Reid were still absent from family dinner, and I hadn’t spoken much to them in the last week.
It made me feel more alone than I had in a long time.
As much as I didn’t want to do anything that might retraumatize Quinn, I needed to keep her safe—and finding out who attacked her had to be a priority.
Cautiously, I spoke again. “I know it’s hard. I don’t want to ask this of you, but we can’t let this person get away with what they did to you.”
She clenched her jaw. “I’m fine. Nothing horrible happened.”
I couldn’t tell whether she was talking about what happened last night or…whatever had happened in her past.
I let out a long breath. “It’s not just you, though,” I said, treading lightly to keep her from shutting down. “Whoever did that to you last night meant you harm. They hurt you, Quinn. Who’s to say they won’t try again? What if someone else is attacked because the police didn’t know?”
Horror dawned on her face. Her mouth opened as the idea sank in.
I was hoping that would do it—that it would be someone else’s safety that convinced her.
Resting my elbows on the table, I leaned toward her. “You can speak with Detective Whize on your own terms. Like I said, he’s a good guy. You won’t have to go to the station. I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”
She closed her eyes, her face crumpling. “There will just…there will be so many questions,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”
Her throat dipped as she swallowed. “They’ll probably want to—to do an examination.” She almost shuddered when she said it.
Her eyes were still closed tight, as if the memories that haunted her were too much to bear. “You won’t have to do that. Anna examined you last night. She took photographic evidence. She can deal with that if they need it.”
She stiffened. When her eyes opened again, they were sharp as ice. “Why are you doing all this?” she snapped, her tone almost venomous.
I drew back, blinking at her. I wasn’t sure how to read that reaction. She almost looked…betrayed.
“What do you mean?”
Her nostrils flared as she let out a shaky breath. “What do you want?” The venom bled out of her voice, leaving something else behind—something raw. “You have to want something from me. There’s no other reason you’d be doing all of this.”
I stared at her blankly, thrown completely off. I shook my head. “I don’t want anything from you.”
She glared at me. “I don’t believe you. Everyone wants something.”
I tilted my head. “I want you to be safe.” I tried to pour every ounce of sincerity I had into those words. “I know you don’t want to report this to the police—for whatever reason—and I thought if there was any way to make it a fraction easier for you, I would.”
She searched my face like she was trying to find the lie. But gradually, the edge slipped from her. The fight dissipated like the steam from her coffee.
“I don’t think whoever attacked me will hurt someone else,” she said slowly. “Whoever it was said that if I was going to defend monsters, they might as well treat me like one.”
Rage lit through me, hot and sharp. “I’m sorry, Quinn,” I said, my voice tight with restrained anger. “You don’t deserve what happened to you.”
She gave me a look that made my heart sink, like she didn’t believe that.
“My point,” she continued, “is that it seems like I was a particular target. I doubt this person will attack anyone else but me.”
She said it with almost no emotion, like she was simply stating facts about something that had nothing to do with her.
I opened my mouth to reply, but she cut me off before I could.
“However,” she went on, “I can’t argue that this person is dangerous. Though I don’t think anyone else will be hurt…I suppose you have a point about reporting it.”
I stared at her. She’d composed herself again—shoulders pulled back, face schooled into that cool mask of indifference.
I wanted to tell her that even if the attacker never hurt another person, she was worth seeking justice for. She was worth protecting.
But I didn’t say it. Because I wasn’t sure she’d hear me anyway.
Instead, I lowered my voice, and looked her directly in the eyes.
“Thank you. I’ll set everything up.”