Tin

CHAPTER NINE

RIKER

I wake up to find her still lying in my arms. This hasn’t happened before. All the nights she’s spent here with me, we’ve never both fallen asleep. Together. Until last night. But then, a lot of things never happened before last night. Things that can’t be undone. Things I’m not sure I’m ready for, and I know she sure as hell isn’t.

Her muscles tighten against me, and for a moment I think she’s waking up. Then I see her face twist in pain with her eyes still sealed shut and I know she’s dreaming, face-to-face with whatever nightmares haunt her day in and day out. I know she thinks I can’t tell. Maybe she thinks I don’t care enough to notice anything beyond her beautiful face and amazing body, but that’s because it’s all I pay attention to when she’s watching. Because that’s all she wants me to see of her. But it’s not all I see. It’s never been. There’s always been more. And it’s the things she wants to hide from me the most that make me want to see her more.

“Quinn.” I whisper her name. I don’t want to startle her, but I can’t leave her trapped in her own subconscious hell. “Wake up.”

Her eyes flutter and immediately dart around the room as if she’s forgotten where she is. She takes a deep breath in as her chest moves against mine.

“Well, this is different.” I knew she’d do that. Make a joke to deflect from the possibility that we might have actually experienced some sort of emotional intimacy.

“You could say that.” I go along with her. I let her set the tone. Always have. Because she’s the wind and I’m the sail.

“I don’t suppose you know where my phone is?” She lifts her head to scan the room, but little else moves with it .

“I plugged it in last night to charge it.” I reach across her to the turned-over milk crate I use as a nightstand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She unlocks the screen and lets out a whistle. “Holy hell, Kirsten. She called seventeen times.” She drops the phone to my chest and lays her head down beside it.

“She’s probably worried. You should call her.” Kirsten’s never called while Quinn was here. At least not that I know of. I’m not sure she’s ever checked her phone before.

“No way. I’m not calling her now. You don’t know my sister. This will not be settled in one little phone call.” She’s not even done saying it when her phone vibrates on my chest and the screen lights up. Her finger moves up to swipe the screen, but it’s not to answer, it’s to ignore the call. Then, to make it easier to forget, she moves the phone back over to my makeshift nightstand, keeping Kirsten and her concerns out of sight until she’s ready to deal with them.

I don’t argue with her. Not about this. I just lie back silently and watch as her mind continues to wake up, becoming more alert and slowly beginning to digest everything all over again. It doesn’t take long for her to zone out. She does this a lot, but today I have a feeling I know where she’s gone. And if I’m right, I honestly don’t know how I’ll handle it.

So, keeping my voice as low and as calm as I can, I ask her, “Who hits you, Quinn?”

Her head shoots up to turn in my direction, and I know before she even lies to me that I’m right. “No one hits me. Why would you even ask something like that?”

My jaw locks, and the tension builds within me. But I can’t let her see it. So I take a silent breath in before I answer her. “Yesterday, when I found you...you didn’t fight back against Carson. It was like some sort of deeply ingrained instinct kicked in. Like you were prey to some wild animal, and you knew your best chance of survival was just to play dead. ”

I expect her to counter with some bullshit reason, but she doesn’t. She just stares at me blankly.

“And then when Carson came at me and I swung at him, you flinched. Like you thought you were the one I was aiming at. Your face froze up with fear, and then you just started shaking. For a moment I thought your entire system was shutting down on me.” It scared me. Really fucking scared me.

She still doesn’t answer me. Just lies her head back down on my chest and absentmindedly begins to drum her fingers on my palm.

“Remember when you asked me how Harley lost his leg?”

I remember, but she doesn’t really need me to confirm that.

“I was barely nineteen. And this guy...he attacked me. Harley was there. He tried to protect me, but the guy was big...and strong. He threw Harley across the room like it was nothing. I was on the ground and there were too many things blocking my view to see it happen, but I heard this god-awful thud as Harley hit the wall, and then a heartbreaking yelp. The impact broke his back. He had to relearn how to walk. And the front leg, it just never recovered. For weeks, he just sort of dragged it along, like dead weight. Finally, the vet said it would be best to just take it. So that’s what they did.”

Her tone is eerily empty. Like she’s told the story before. Many times.

All I want to do is pull her close. Protect her. Create a world for her in which the monsters in her mind can’t reach her. But I can’t even do that for myself. So how could I possibly give it to her?

“What happened to the man who attacked you?”

She doesn’t even blink. “I killed him.” Then, before I can ask her again, she gets up onto her side. “Or maybe he got swallowed whole by the devil for attacking a defenseless girl and her puppy. Who can recall? He’d certainly deserve it.”

She’s making jokes. About things that aren’t funny. She’s done sharing. Probably already regretting having opened up to me this much. So I let it go. For now.

“Hey, let me see your phone.” I stretch out my arm, but she’s got her weight on it, so I can’t reach it on my own.

“Why? Are you going to call my sister? Because that could be interesting.” She hands it over skeptically.

“No, I’m not getting in the middle of that. I’ll beat up other guys for you, but I’m not taking on your sister. She scares me.” I unlock her screen by tapping the number five four times. I saw her do it earlier. It’s not much of a security code, and I make a mental note to mock her for it later.

“Then what are you doing?” She leans in so far that she blocks my view of the phone.

“Would you move your big-ass head out of my way so I can see the screen? I’m trying to add my number to your contact list.”

Stumped, she actually drops back. “What for?”

I finish punching in the number and then hit call. Now I have hers as well. “So that the next time someone sets you up on a blind date, you can call me and I’ll come pick you up before the douchebag gets there.”

I hand the phone back to her, and she smirks. “Well, I might as well just delete it again, then, because I’m sure as hell not going out on any more blind dates.”

Her fingers fly over the screen, and I clasp my hand around them to stop her. “Keep it anyway. Use it. Don’t use it. I don’t care. But I want you to have it. Just in case.”

This time her quirky little mouth holds still. No smirk. No mocking grin. Just her. Nodding.

QUINN

I see her before I even step one foot inside. Kirsten. She’s in my room, pacing back and forth with such force that she reminds me of a tornado ripping through my place. I’m kind of expecting to see the floorboards busted out and strewn all over from the impact.

“Where the hell have you been?” She lunges for me the second I open the door. “And don’t give me some bullshit about being out running, because I’ve been in this room all night waiting for you. I know you haven’t been home. And I know for damn sure those aren’t your clothes.”

I glance down at the oversize t-shirt and drawstring shorts I’m wearing. “They could be mine. You don’t know what all I have.”

“Don’t give me that. You don’t fucking own a Motley Crüe shirt. And don’t try to distract me!” I think she’s a little extra pissed now because it worked. Even if it was only temporarily.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was at a friend’s house. And yes, he let me borrow some clothes so I wouldn’t have to walk down the beach in the dress you got me.” Which incidentally, I no longer own since I watched Riker throw it into the garbage can right before he dragged it out to the curb to be picked up.

“So it’s true?” Kirsten looks like her head is about to explode. Then her arms start flailing around dramatically, and I can’t help but wonder if she intends to use the force of the impending explosion to propel herself upward and become airborne. “You’ve been seeing someone behind my back this entire time? Damn it, Quinn! When will you ever learn?”

“I just told you, he’s a friend .” It never pays to meet Kirsten at the height of her anger, but it’s taking all I’ve got to remain calm when she’s basically accusing me of being the dumbest fucking girl alive.

“Stop. Just stop.” She’s holding up her hand for extra measure. “Carson called last night and told us everything. Said the two of you had just finished a really great dinner and were walking out to his car when your jealous boyfriend showed up out of the blue and attacked him! Did you know he broke his jaw? Carson spent the night in the ER thanks to your mistakes.”

My blood is quite literally boiling. I mean, I can’t be certain, so maybe literally isn’t as accurate as I’d like it to be, but my skin is burning up and I might scream, so if it’s not boiling, it’s something pretty damn close.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? My mistakes? How about your mistakes? And Nate’s mistakes?” It’s my turn to charge across the room and get in her face. “For starters, dinner sucked ass. Mostly because all he could do is talk about his damn self, which would have been fine if he had been even remotely interesting. Which he was not! Then I avoid dessert in hopes of ending the evening, only to wind up being mauled by him in the parking lot. Your precious Carson is one fucking date-rape away from a long-term prison sentence. Shit, it’s probably already happened and he just found a way to convince the girls that he was doing them a favor by assaulting them because it would boost their bad reputations. At least that’s the line he gave me. Be sure to thank your husband for that one, by the way. He told that asshole just enough of my business to get the completely wrong idea! Not that that would have made it any better. Even if I was the biggest slut to ever walk the face of this earth, I still would not have slept with him!”

I don’t think I’ve inhaled since I started shouting because I’m lightheaded now. But I’m not done. “And as for Riker—yeah, it was him. He’s the one I was with last night. He’s the one I’ve been with every night since Sophie’s birthday party, and he’s the one who stumbled upon Carson attacking me in the parking lot and put a stop to it. Because that’s just the kind of loser he is.”

“You’re lying.” But I can tell from her tone that she doesn’t think I am. She just needs me to be. Because otherwise I was attacked last night. Again. And this time she was the leading force behind it .

“I’m not.” The boil has subsided to a slow simmer, and now that I’ve said all there was to say, I’m wondering if it would have been better to just keep my mouth shut.

She shakes her head. “Carson is a decent guy. He comes from a good family. Nate knows him. They play golf together. I wouldn’t set my baby sister up with someone who could hurt her.”

“I know that, Kirsten.” I can’t be mad at her. She’s going to rip herself to shreds over this one for a long time and that’s the last thing I want. “I shouldn’t have said it was your mistake. I was just...pissed. Because for once it wasn’t mine either. Everything that went wrong was Carson’s doing. And if I was anyone else, I would have called the cops. I wouldn’t have put Riker in a position to have to handle it for me.”

She looks up at me, still cringing at the sound of his name. “Why him, Quinn? I know what he did last night was to save you...but Carson sent Nate pictures of his face. That man has a violent streak. What if he turns it on you one day?”

I close my eyes because hearing her say those words about the man who held me in his arms last night, showing me more care and kindness than any one person on this earth ever has, makes me hurt. An almost unbearable hurt.

“He won’t, Kirsten.” I exhale and feel the emotions trickle out with my shaky breath. “You don’t know him. The version you’ve seen...that’s not even him. That’s just his job. The clothes and the environment you associate with Jackson aren’t even attached to Riker outside of his work. And even if they were, that’s a pretty heavy stereotype to put on people. You really think every guy who works outdoors wears jeans, boots, and a backward baseball cap, then goes home and beats on their woman? You can’t possibly believe that. Any more than I think every guy who looks like Carson is a rapist. Because that would make Nate one too. And we both know nothing could be further from the truth. ”

Gradually, Kirsten’s demeanor is changing. She’s not pissed anymore. But now I kind of wish she still was, because the agony creeping in and taking over isn’t any easier to bear. It’s harder.

“He’s not the one who makes me worry, Quinn.” She turns and walks over to my bed where she sinks down on the mattress. “You are. You’re sneaking around. Lying. Keeping him hidden. Why would you do that if you thought there wasn’t anything wrong with this relationship?”

I sit down beside her, feeling a lot calmer in spite of the fact that I’m now having to put into words something that was so much simpler in silence. “Because it’s not a relationship.” I watch and wait for her to get the point I’m trying to make. It takes a second, but the understanding starts to filter in.

“Oh.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Well, that’s charming.”

“Would you make up your damn mind? Shit, Kirsten. One minute it’s all he’s not good enough for you. Don’t get involved with him, he’ll treat you like Jackson did. Stop falling for losers, Quinn. And then when I tell you, hey, no biggie, I’m not attached, not involved, and that there are no feelings to speak of, somehow that doesn’t work for you either.” I bump her shoulder with mine, trying my best to make her lighten up.

“So it’s just sex. That’s all?” Her left brow is cocked, displaying her skepticism.

“Well, really, really good sex. Kind of mind blowing, turn your world into a wonderland and teach you how to fly sort of sex. I wouldn’t haul my cookies a mile down the beach every night for ‘just sex.’”

Finally, the flat line taking the place of her mouth gives way to a small smile. “That’s something, I guess. I’d hate to think you were ‘just’ a whore. But no, you’re a whore with standards.”

“A girl’s gotta have those.” I nod. This is the closest we’ve been to being us in a long time. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed her.

“I guess I’ll let you get cleaned up.” She stands up and starts for the door. “I’m making waffles. With chocolate chips.”

I smile at her. She knows those are my favorite. “I’ll be up in a few.”

And then the door closes and she’s gone.

Feeling unusually well rested after a night of solid sleep, I’m not tempted by my comfy bed and manage to jump right to my feet to start getting ready for the day. I’m at my dresser about to dig around in it for something suitable to wear, when my door comes flying open again and my sister runs toward me, wrapping both arms tightly around me.

“I’m so sorry. So, so very sorry, Quinn.” Her voice is choked up and choppy from crying. “I was so busy worrying about you repeating the past that I completely missed the present.” She pulls back, placing her hands on the sides of my face. “Did he hurt you? Did he...do anything before Riker showed up?”

I shake my head before I can find the words. “Just kissed me. And over-the-clothes stuff. Nothing that will leave scars any uglier than the ones I’ve already got.”

She presses her lips to my forehead before she releases me. “Next time you see Riker, tell him I said thanks for looking out for my baby sister.” She’s at the door again. She wipes her eyes, preparing to face Nate and Sophie, who are probably sitting right at the end of the stairway in the living room. “And tell him that in the future it wouldn’t hurt to break more than a measly little jaw on a man like Carson.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it.” In a month or so, when we make the effort to have another conversation.

As it turns out, it takes less than twenty-four hours before I’m back at his place and we’re talking .

“And now your sister knows? And she’s cool with it?”

We’re up on the rooftop deck, lying on the chaise lounge, me on top of him, both of us naked under his quilt and staring straight up at the night sky. It’s beautiful out.

“Mostly. She likes you now, but I don’t think she’s all that impressed with our arrangement.”

His hand reaches over to cup my breast. “What’s wrong with our arrangement?” I can hear the grin in his voice even if I can’t see it.

“Not a thing. It’s pretty perfect if you ask me.” I snake my arm up out of his hold and around the back of his head to play with his thick hair. It’s got a slight wave to it now from the moisture in the air. “My sister did throw the word ‘whore’ around a time or two, though.”

“That seems a bit harsh. I mean, easy , maybe. But whore?”

I grab a fistful of his hair and hold it hostage. “What was that?”

“I was kidding. I swear. Ow!” He dramatically rubs the spot on his scalp.

“You’re such a wuss. Men, I swear.” I roll onto my chest, carefully balancing my weight so I don’t fall off of him and the chaise. “Meanwhile, I’m hungry.”

Riker stretches into a more upright position, taking me with him. “I’ve got some shrimp fried rice downstairs.”

“Hmm.”

He squints at me, a shadow coming down over his handsome face. “What?”

I flick my wrist casually like it’s no big deal, only it totally is. “It’s nothing. I just seem to recall someone mentioning providing an actual meal with actual plates and actual silverware...from time to time.”

His brows lift again, and the corner of his mouth inches its way upward as well. “And I take it, time to time is right now?”

“Oh, well, if you insist. I mean, I would have been fine reheating old takeout—“

He dives in to kiss me before I even finish. “Shut up, Quinn,” he murmurs, his mouth hovering right over mine.

“Okay.” I close my eyes and let my lips find their own way back to him. They always do.