Chapter 29
Quinn
Iwoke up feeling warm and whole for the first time in…maybe ever.
Graham’s arms were wrapped around me, holding me against the hard planes of his body. Part of me didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb this perfectly lovely moment. But my stomach rumbled and cramped with hunger.
As if Graham felt the shift in my awareness, he stirred too. His arms tightened, pulling me even closer. My heart strained, pulsing with a new feeling that was almost painful. It scared me as much as it fascinated me.
He kissed my hair at the top of my head, and my chest felt like it was splitting open.
Something had fundamentally changed in me last night, and I wasn’t sure how to comprehend it. The only emotion I could confidently identify was fear, but it wasn’t surfacing while his arms were around me like this.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice impossibly deep and gruff from sleep.
I turned in his arms and looked up into his face. I’d never seen him like this—eyes heavy and listless, cheeks slightly pink from the warmth of our bodies. He gave me a lazy smile, one that melted my insides.
“I think we might’ve missed morning.” I glanced toward the window and the way the light shifted through the blinds.
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, and I nestled closer. My hands were pressed against his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was steady and calm. Like him.
A moment of silence settled over us before he broke it with a tentative question.
“So…you’re staying, then?”
I pulled back a little, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring just above my head. His face was stoic, giving nothing away.
“I’m staying,” I said softly. “For a while longer.”
I couldn’t give him an exact answer, because I didn’t know.
I had no idea where I was going from here.
This was unprecedented territory. I should be looking for another job.
I should be going back home—exactly like he’d said—and making a plan for what I hoped to accomplish in the next five to ten years now that the firm was no longer in my future.
I might have to start over, and the quicker I got to it, the better…but I couldn’t bring myself to. Not right now. I couldn’t leave Ember Hollow until I knew that Graham would be safe. That Raleigh and Warner were safe.
Graham let out a long breath, and then he kissed my forehead.
“How about we get some food?” He arched a brow. “Room service?”
I gave him a look. “The bed-and-breakfast has room service?”
“Of course.” He winked. “I am the room service. Unless you’d rather go downstairs and eat at the table?”
My nose wrinkled. The thought of leaving this bed wasn’t appealing. I’d much rather eat up here with Graham, pretending like the world outside this room didn’t exist for a little bit longer.
I leaned forward and kissed him, deep and long. His heart started to race beneath my fingers. When I pulled away, his cheeks were even pinker—bordering on red.
“What was that for?” he asked.
I gave him a sly grin. “Your tip.”
He blinked at me, then chuckled. He brushed his nose against mine.
“You shouldn’t tip before you receive service, little lynx,” he murmured, voice low. “I might feel unmotivated.”
“That was only the first half,” I whispered in his ear.
He shuddered.
“I’m saving the best part for after.” My gaze heated.
The apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Don’t move,” he commanded. “I’ll be right back.”
He was back suspiciously quickly, but the food was delicious. Eggs and sourdough toast with avocado and butter and fruit. I inhaled everything and then afterward…afterward I showed Graham exactly how thankful I was for the meal.
It was…intoxicating, the sounds I could draw from him, the gasps. The way his hands clenched at his sides, and in my hair. I could make him go completely undone—and it might’ve been the most powerful I’d ever felt in my life.
Graham was stunning. The way he looked at me, full of heated adoration and amazement. Skin slicked with sweat and chest heaving with breaths he couldn’t catch.
I wanted more of him. All of him.
After, when our heartbeats were slowing and we were tangled in each other, clouded in an afterglow of bliss and companionship, he slowly ran the tips of his fingers up and down my back. The soothing motions sent waves of relaxation over my sensitive skin.
“Do you have plans for the day?” he asked softly, still caressing my bare back.
I didn’t want to move. I didn’t even want to think about moving. I wanted to stay like this, in his arms, being comforted like this forever.
“No, not particularly,” I said. “What about you?”
He was quiet for a while, though his fingers never stilled. “I need to talk to Roman to make sure it’s all right if I leave, but I’m considering calling a survivors support group meeting tonight.”
I jerked my head back, looking up into his face. “Survivors group?”
He nodded. “I’ve been volunteering my time to it for a while now.
With everything this town has been through, I thought offering a place for people to go, to talk and let out their complex emotions was vital.
We aren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow, but with Anderson’s escape, I’m sure it’ll be needed.
We can talk about some methods for people to stay, and feel, safe. ”
It didn’t surprise me that he’d do something like that, but what did surprise me were the words that came out of my mouth next.
“Can I come?”
He stared at me as my request sank in. “You want to go to my survivors group?”
The back of my neck heated. “Is that not okay?”
He shook his head immediately. “It’s not that. Of course it’s okay, but…” He let out a breath, and he held me tighter. “I just want you to understand that not everyone in the group was excited about you being in town.”
He said the words with such care and gentleness, but they still stung.
“Of course,” I said, too quickly. “I can stay here.”
I felt the stiffness in his muscles. There was an uncomfortable pause.
“How about this…” he murmured finally. “I can ask. Come with me. I’ll introduce you and see what the group thinks.”
A flush moved up into my face. I wasn’t sure why I was embarrassed. I didn’t even know why I’d asked to come. Part of me knew it was because I didn’t want him to leave me behind. I wanted to stay with him. I felt safe with him.
But another part, a small, quiet part of me felt like I was a survivor, too.
And I wondered what it might be like to be in a room full of people who might be broken, like me.
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding. “We’ll try.”
The basement of the library smelled faintly damp.
It had been raining since morning—steady sheets of cold November rain that didn’t quite make it to snow. The scent of moisture clung to the painted limestone walls even though everything was clean and dry. Cozy, in its own way.
No books were down here. I tipped my chin up anyway, imagining the weight of all those shelves stacked above us, the history of this whole town pressing down.
A pulse of anxiety shot through me, but I ignored it, stiffening my shoulders.
The folding chairs squeaked when people shifted into place in the circle around us. Graham and I had just sat down, and everyone’s attention snapped to me.
I resisted the urge to fidget under the judgmental stares of strangers. The only face I recognized was Mara. Her posture was perfect, her hands folded in her lap and expression soft as always.
Across from her sat a younger guy. I vaguely recognized him, though I wasn’t sure why.
I didn’t think we’d ever met, but something about his eyes—the shape of them felt familiar.
He looked nervous, his knee bouncing as his gaze darted between Graham and me, like he knew exactly who I was.
He probably did. They all probably knew, by the way they looked at me.
Graham drew in a steadying breath beside me, and when everyone settled in the circle, he opened the group.
“I know things are hard right now,” he said gently. His deep baritone wrapped around the room. “Things might feel unsafe and scary, but we’re here to listen.”
He was cautious as he spoke, aware of everyone’s body language. I watched him, intrigued. This might have been something he volunteered to do, but he was no less than professional. The way he read the room with his analytical eyes…it was clear he was good at this.
“I thought it was more important than usual to meet tonight,” Graham continued, “not just to talk about what’s happened, but to discuss ways we can help ourselves feel safe.”
Graham leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed, but attentive. “I wanted to introduce someone new,” he added, cautiously. “This is Quinn Carpenter. She wanted to ask permission to sit in the group tonight.”
A rustle of unease rippled through the circle. Chairs shifted and bodies stiffened.
Graham lifted a hand in a calming gesture. “Quinn is no longer associated with—”
“Of course she’s not,” a man scoffed. “He doesn’t need her anymore. He’s out.”
The room seemed to freeze. Nothing but the soft patter of rain on the high, narrow windows.
“She removed herself from the case before—before he was gone, though. Right, Graham?” Mara said, coming to my defense.
Graham nodded, though he wasn’t looking at her, or the man who’d spoken. He was staring at the nervous young guy with the darting gaze—the one I couldn’t place but seemed familiar.
But then he blinked, and his eyes shifted toward Mara. “Yes. That’s correct.” Graham’s voice softened. “And she’s here because she wants to be supportive of you all. She—” He hesitated, glancing at me. “She has a story of her own you might understand better than you think.”
My heart stumbled over itself.
A woman across from me curled her lip. I didn’t know anyone’s names. We hadn’t even gotten to introductions. “I don’t really want to hear what she has to say.”
Graham tried to soothe her gently, but she shook her head, crossing her arms.
The first man spoke again, his voice like acid. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she helped him escape.”
I went rigid. The sneering woman’s face paled.
“Hey,” Graham said sharply, sitting forward. He was still calm, but firm. “She had nothing to do with that.”
That silenced a few people, but not for long.
Murmurs started. Not even full words at first, just fearful, angry tones. The kind of whispers I’d grown up with. The kind I knew too well.
The basement seemed to shrink around me, pressing in with every muttered accusation.
Graham’s posture sharpened. “Stop. All of you.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “She is not your enemy.”
But it didn’t matter. They weren’t looking at Graham. They were looking at me.
Like I was something poisonous that had leaked into their safe space.
The nervous guy dropped his gaze the second I met his eyes. The woman who’d curled her lip earlier now stared openly, her disgust carved into her expression. Mara watched me with a look of sympathy.
My chest went tight.
It didn’t matter what I did or where I went. I was always…other. Always tainted.
Graham turned toward me, his hand reaching for mine. “Quinn—”
I shook my head. I wanted to give him a reassuring smile, but I couldn’t.
“It’s okay,” I said, voice soft. “I can wait upstairs.”
Fingers curled around mine, gripping tight. “You can stay.”
“No. I can’t.”
The truth sat heavy on me. This wasn’t my space. I didn’t belong here.
Not with these survivors whose pain was fresh and festering—not when they looked at me and saw the monster who’d nearly destroyed their lives. I had known I might not be able to stay; I just hadn’t expected to be blamed for his escape. Again.
I gently pulled my hand from his.
Without another word, I rose from the chair.
The circle parted slightly, scooting their chairs apart like I was something contagious. I walked through the gap without letting myself look at anyone.
My steps echoed too loudly on the concrete floor.
I could feel Graham’s gaze burning into my back.
As I climbed the stairs up to the stacks of the library, I told myself that it was fine. It was a normal reaction from them to reject me. Graham had warned me.
But it didn’t stop the hollow ache gnawing through my chest.