Chapter 30
Graham
Rage burned in me as I stared at the stairs where Quinn had disappeared. I wanted to go after her, pull her against me, tell her she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d tried to hide behind that layer of ice she was so good at building, but I’d seen the hurt in her eyes. It gutted me.
I had thought this wasn’t a good idea, but I just…didn’t think they’d be this hostile.
I should’ve protected her better.
Clenching my teeth, I forced myself to look back at the group. My gaze caught on Jake, who immediately looked away. He’d had a strange, jittery energy since the meeting started. If I expected hostility from anyone it was him—not the nervous, restless energy he was giving off now.
Around the circle, some of the tension seeped out now that Quinn was gone.
“That was…” I began, shoving down the anger to remain as calm as possible. “Uncalled for.”
“I’m sorry, Graham,” Mara said softly, touching my arm.
“Why’d you bring her here?” Jenna snapped.
I met her glare head-on. “Because she asked to come. Because she has been unfairly judged by this town since the moment she set foot here. And because…” My voice caught, the words suddenly too tight in my throat. “Because I thought more of you all.”
She stiffened. A long silence followed, one that was uncomfortable, but I didn’t break it. These people had been through hell. Trauma could make you empathetic…or it could make you hard and bitter. I’d hoped it wouldn’t be the latter.
Jake shifted in his chair, the metal squeaking as he bounced his knee faster.
Letting out a long, slow sigh, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Let’s talk,” I finally said to the group.
“That’s what we’re here for. I’m sorry I disrupted things, but this is supposed to be a safe place to speak—for anyone.
No matter who they are.” I glanced at Jake. “What’s going through your mind, Jake?”
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his own name. “Nothing,” he said instantly, crossing his arms tighter over his chest.
“We all know it’s not nothing,” I said, but I didn’t push him.
He looked away.
This was going to be an interesting group meeting.
Once the tension simmered down, people eventually talked.
They vented about the escape, and their fear, about what safety even looked like anymore.
Some cried. Others reached out, comforted one another.
I offered grounding techniques, security tips—small things people could control when everything else felt too big and chaotic.
But the whole time, no matter who spoke or how deeply I tried to stay present, my thoughts kept drifting upstairs.
To Quinn.
By the time I dismissed the group, there was only one thing on my mind: getting back to her.
Istayed in leader mode until the last person filtered out of the basement—everyone except Mara, of course, who lingered the way she always did while we cleaned up.
“I’m sorry for what happened,” she said as we climbed the stairs to the main floor of the library. “But I am a little surprised you brought her tonight.”
I stiffened. “It was a mistake. I didn’t think…”
I wasn’t sure what I had been thinking. I just hadn’t wanted to disappoint her. I’d hated the look on her face when I’d tried to tell her it wasn’t a good idea to come.
She’d been crushed.
“You were trying.” She touched my arm again. “You always try so hard. I hope she’s not too upset with you.”
I glanced away, anxious to go find Quinn. “I should go talk to her.”
Mara made a strange noise, and when I looked back at her, her mouth was set in a thin line.
“You okay?” I frowned.
She blinked at me, forcing a smile. “Yes.” She nodded. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”
“You should get some rest tonight. It’s been a crazy weekend.”
Her smile widened. “Right, I will. I’ll head straight up to bed when I close down the place.”
I nodded, starting to turn away. “Let me know if you need any help.”
I didn’t hear her answer, though, as I walked away, my mind shifting back to Quinn.
My chest eased a fraction when I rounded the shelf that hid the small table in the stacks of the study, and saw her sitting there. Of course she was there.
She sat still, staring down at her clasped hands.
I wasn’t sure why I expected her to be working on something. Maybe because I’d been conditioned to think so. She was always working, always focused and trying so damn hard.
My eyes moved over her—her shoulders hunched inward like she was resisting the urge to curl in on herself completely.
I took another step toward her, and though I didn’t make a single sound, her head snapped up, those pale eyes locking onto mine.
The breath left my lungs.
Her eyes were ice again—cold and hard. A chill crept down my spine. I’d thought I’d cracked that facade; thought I’d melted those crystalline walls she kept around herself—at least when it came to me. Hadn’t I earned that much?
“I’m so sorry,” I said, barely above a whisper. The surrounding shelves swallowed the sound, cocooning us in quiet. It felt like we were in our own world back here, the books acting like barriers to keep everyone else out.
Quinn stared at me, and I caught the faintest shifts in the expression she was trying so hard to hide.
“You don’t have to be sorry. You warned me. I knew I might not be able to stay.”
Her voice was flat. Icy. The chill spread from her lips into the air between us.
No, I wouldn’t let her disappear into herself again. Not with me.
I moved toward her with purpose. She must’ve seen something in my face, because she jerked to her feet in an instant. She stepped back, putting space between us like she needed the distance to breathe.
“Stop,” she said, voice sharp. “It’s fine, Graham. It really is. I understand.”
My jaw clenched. Understanding was one thing. I needed to know how she was feeling.
I wanted her honesty, not this empty, practiced resignation. Holding myself back, I stayed where I was, pinning her with my gaze.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit.”
She winced at my bluntness.
“Don’t push me away,” I said quietly, but firmly. “I know that I messed up, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you tonight.”
Quinn let out a breath, but she wasn’t giving up. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”
I moved then—so fast she had nowhere to go. Her back knocked against the shelf behind her. I reached for her and she flinched, but it didn’t stop me. Not this time.
Gently—as if she were made of the most precious, delicate material ever created—I pressed my palm against her cheek, cradling her face in my hand. She squeezed her eyes shut like she couldn’t bear to look at me.
“I’m not, though,” I murmured. “Don’t hide from me. Not anymore.”
A flash of pain cracked across her features, but she didn’t open her eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“Liar.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and her eyes flew open—frozen and cold as ever. “It doesn’t matter.”
My thumb caressed her cheekbone, my fingers almost trembling with the effort to stay soft and gentle when frustration vibrated through me.
“You matter, Quinn,” I said softly. The truth of it slammed into me hard enough to make my ribs ache. My heart pulsed faster.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened—maybe it was the first moment I saw her here in this very building.
She mattered. She mattered so much it hurt.
It ached in every place that had been crushed and broken.
I had thought those parts of me died when Blair did—but that wasn’t true. They had simply been festering. Rotting in a dark place I had ignored.
And Quinn…she had been the balm I needed. The sharp sting of antiseptic and sunlight. All this time she’d been healing me, and I hadn’t even realized.
I couldn’t lose her. Not without a fight.
“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed, Quinn,” I confessed. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
The ice in her eyes shattered—splintering into glittering fragments that caught in the dim lighting of our hidden nook.
There was a long pause. I didn’t look away.
“You shouldn’t say that,” she whispered, but there was no conviction in it.
I stepped closer. Her labored breaths ghosted over my mouth.
“But it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
She let out a small gasp that made every inch of my skin vibrate.
“Graham.” She almost panted my name, like she couldn’t catch a proper breath. “Stop. I’m—I’m not right for you. I’ll never belong here.”
It felt like she was ripping my heart in two. She didn’t think she was worthy.
My fingers dragged slowly down the side of her face until I gripped her jaw, guiding her mouth closer to mine. I could almost taste her.
“Another lie,” I rasped. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me. You don’t have to prove yourself to this town. If you were mine—” A shudder rippled through me at the thought. “You would belong wherever I did.”
She made a choked sound—something made of longing and heartbreak and desperation.
Then she closed the gap between us, her mouth sealing over mine.
Her kiss was a wild, hungry, trembling thing. I groaned, my hand tightening on her jaw as the other slid to her waist, pulling her flush against me.
The shelves pressed into her back as she clung to the front of my shirt, dragging me closer. Books rattled behind her with every desperate shift of our bodies.
She moved her mouth from mine, lips trailing down my jaw and neck until her teeth nipped at the sensitive skin at my throat. I fought for air.
“Quinn,” I growled, impatient, pulling her back up and kissing her again—deeper and slower, like I was devouring her.
She made a broken little sound that went straight through me.
Her hands slid up my chest, over my shoulders, curling into my hair. The soft tug of her fingers nearly undid me. I pressed her harder against the shelf, caging her between my arms and the solid wood.
Her back arched, her mouth parting for me.
She tasted like want, and fear, and the hope she didn’t dare believe in.
I kissed her like I could take all of that into myself.
As if I could hold it for her.
My hands moved—one anchoring her hip, the other sliding down her jaw to the dip at the base of her neck.
Mine.
I didn’t say the word aloud but it echoed inside my chest.
I felt like it’d been hollowed out and filled with nothing but the sound of her breaths, the warmth of her body, and the feel of her trembling against me.
I wrapped my fingers around her throat, the gesture possessive and tender.
I did not squeeze, but I felt the thrum of her erratic pulse.
I hesitated, giving her time to pull away, but she didn’t.
My thumb stroked the side of her neck up to the base of her ear.
She shivered so violently I had to grip her hip to keep her steady.
Her hands fell to my shoulders, nails biting into my skin as she pulled away for too long a moment.
“Graham…” she whispered. “I want—you—”
She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to. She had me. All of me.
I was completely fucking lost in her.
The books, shelves, and the entire world disappeared.
There was only her.
Her lips found mine again, slow and reverent now, as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to consume me or worship me.
I didn’t care which. As long as I had her.
Her mouth was still clinging to mine when my phone buzzed in my pocket, a harsh, jarring sound that did not belong in this moment. It didn’t belong in the sanctuary of her body pressed against mine or anywhere near the way she was kissing me.
I ignored it. At least, I tried to.
But the vibration kept going, insistent and relentless.
Some of the haze started to clear from my brain. My phone was set to silent. I always had it on silent during group meetings. The only numbers my phone would ring for were my brothers’.
Ice slid down my spine.
Slowly, I pulled back, pressing my forehead against Quinn’s. I didn’t want to let go of her yet. My hand tightened around her waist, holding her there for one more second.
The phone buzzed again.
“Fuck.” I exhaled. “I have to answer.”
Her fingers were still curled around my shoulders, like she didn’t want to let go either.
I didn’t step away or break contact. I didn’t even lower my hand from her throat.
Relinquishing my hold on her hip, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, still close enough that I could feel her chest rising against mine.
Her lips hovered a breath from my own, pulse fluttering under my thumb.
I answered the call. “Yeah,” I said, voice rough, breathless.
Roman’s voice blasted through the speaker, loud and sharp enough that Quinn flinched.
“Graham, I need you.”