Chapter 16 #2
Quinn didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Avery’s forehead, her hand lingering at the back of her neck like that was the only answer she had.
After a moment, Avery pushed herself upright and shifted so she could face her fully. “Can I ask you something?” she said, her voice careful.
“Of course,” Quinn replied, straightening a little and giving her her full attention.
“When you go back to L.A.… what happens then?” Avery asked, holding Quinn’s gaze. Her voice stayed steady, but it was quiet. “Are we just… done? Are you going to disappear into work and act like this weekend didn’t happen?”
Quinn blinked, clearly caught off guard by the directness. She reached for her glass, set it down on the coffee table, and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she gathered her thoughts. “No,” she said after a moment. “I’m not going to disappear on you.”
Avery searched her face, studying every flicker of expression. “You say that now,” she replied softly.
“I mean it,” Quinn said, turning toward her fully and resting her hand against Avery’s knee. “I know I’m not great at… keeping in touch. I get busy. I live in my head. But I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”
Something in Avery’s chest loosened as she absorbed that. “You don’t?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“No,” Quinn said softly, her thumb brushing lightly over Avery’s skin. “I like being around you. More than I probably should.”
Avery let out a small breath and smiled faintly. “Dangerous words for a CEO,” she teased, nudging her knee gently against Quinn’s.
“Probably,” Quinn replied with a small smile of her own.
They sat like that for a beat, their eyes holding, the quiet stretching but not uncomfortable.
“I want to see what this is,” Avery said finally, her fingers lacing together in her lap before she looked back up at Quinn. “I’d like to see where this goes. Both the business part and this. Us. Whatever we are right now.”
Quinn nodded slowly, her jaw tightening slightly before she exhaled. “It’s messy,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair. “For me. Mixing work and us.”
“Yeah,” Avery said with a small shrug, reaching out to touch Quinn’s wrist. “But I think I’m okay with messy.”
Quinn’s mouth twitched, and something vulnerable flickered across her face.
“I don’t normally do this,” Quinn said, her voice quieter now. “Let people in. I don’t normally have soft moments.”
Avery tilted her head and gave her a teasing look. “You mean you don’t usually spend weekends wearing someone else’s sweatshirt and watching Killing Eve?” she asked lightly.
Quinn let out a small laugh and leaned back into the couch. “Only recently,” she said.
“Well,” Avery said, leaning in just a little closer, her shoulder brushing Quinn’s arm, “you look good doing it.”
That made Quinn smile, real and unguarded, as she shook her head slightly. “You’re dangerous when you flirt like that,” she said.
“I’m just honest,” Avery replied, echoing her earlier words with a small grin.
Quinn shook her head again, still amused, then reached for her and pulled her back in close, guiding Avery until her head settled naturally against Quinn’s shoulder.
They stayed like that for a long time, the TV flickering soundlessly as the afternoon light slowly dimmed. Henrietta jumped down with a sigh and padded toward the kitchen, like even she was done pretending the day wasn’t almost over.
Avery closed her eyes, trying to memorize the moment, the warmth of Quinn’s body, the smell of her shampoo, the weight of her hand against her thigh. She wished she could stop time. Just for a little while.
The hours slipped away faster than either of them wanted. One minute, sunlight still stretched across the couch, golden and warm. The next, it was fading into early evening, that blue-gray hour where everything looked softer and sadder at once.
Quinn checked her phone once, then set it back face-down on the coffee table. “I should probably start getting ready soon.”
Avery’s stomach dropped, even though she knew it was coming. “Yeah,” she said quietly.
Neither of them moved for another full minute.
Then Quinn sighed and pushed herself up, stretching as she stood.
Henrietta followed instantly, tail high, meowing like she sensed the moment shifting.
Avery stayed curled where she was for a few seconds longer, watching her—how Quinn’s sweatshirt slipped off one shoulder, how her hair had gone soft and messy, how her bare feet moved quietly across the wood floor.
She looked nothing like the woman who had walked into Lilith earlier this week, all sharp edges and control. This Quinn felt different. Real. And, somehow, hers.
Avery stood and followed her into the bedroom, where Quinn’s overnight bag sat half-zipped on the floor. The sight of it made her chest ache.
“You packed light,” Avery said, trying to sound casual.
“I always do,” Quinn said softly, folding her clothes with neat precision. “Never know how long I’ll actually stay.”
Avery smiled faintly. “You stayed longer than I thought you would.”
Quinn looked up, meeting her eyes. “Me too.”
They stood there for a long moment, the air thick with everything they hadn’t said. Avery stepped closer, fingers brushing against Quinn’s arm. “I’m glad you did.”
Quinn’s expression softened. “So am I.”
When the bag was finally zipped, Quinn set it by the door. The sound of the zipper felt final.
Avery followed her to the entryway, arms crossed loosely, trying not to fidget. “Do you want me to call you a car?”
“I already have one on the way,” Quinn said. “Five minutes.”
Avery nodded, her throat tight. “Right.”
They stood facing each other, close enough that Avery could smell her cologne again—the faint mix of cedar and something slightly floral she’d already come to associate with comfort.
“Thank you for this weekend,” Quinn said quietly. “For letting me stay. For everything.”
Avery huffed out a soft laugh. “You make it sound like you were just a houseguest or something.”
Quinn smiled, slow and small. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Avery said. “And you’re welcome. For all of it.”
For a moment, neither moved. Then Quinn reached up, fingers brushing along Avery’s jaw, her thumb resting under her chin “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
“No,” Avery said honestly. “But I’ll survive.”
Quinn’s laugh was quiet, a breath more than a sound. “You make it hard to walk away.”
“Then don’t.” Avery tried.
Quinn hesitated, just for a second. Then she leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t the kind of kiss they’d shared in bed or at the club. This one was deliberate, contained, threaded with a gravity that settled between them. Maybe a promise. Maybe a warning.
When they finally pulled apart, Avery’s eyes burned. “Text me when you land,” she said softly.
“I will.” Quinn nodded.
“And if you don’t—”
Quinn smiled faintly. “You’ll what? Try to acquire Halo out of spite?”
Avery smirked, her voice cracking just a little. “Maybe.”
The horn of a waiting car echoed faintly from the street below. Quinn exhaled. “That’s me.”
Avery stepped back, arms crossed again, trying to steady herself. “You’re really bad at goodbyes.”
“I know,” Quinn said. “That’s why I don’t do them.”
But then she kissed her one more time anyway, a soft, final brush that lingered just long enough to hurt.
When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against Avery’s for a moment. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Avery nodded. “You’d better.”
Quinn smiled, grabbed her bag, and opened the door. She hesitated once more in the doorway, her gaze flicking back over Avery, slow and lingering. “Goodnight, Avery.”
“Safe flight, Quinn,” Avery said, the feeling of loss already settling deep in her bones. The door shut softly behind her.
She just stood there for a long time, staring at the door, until Henrietta brushed against her leg with a soft, questioning meow.
“I know,” Avery whispered, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “I miss her already, too.”
The city noise picked up outside, a car horn, a faint siren, the distant hum of a plane overhead, and Avery let out an unsteady breath. Then she turned off the lights, climbed back into bed, and pulled Quinn’s sweatshirt over her head before lying down. It still smelled like her.
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