CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RIKER
It’s been a week. One whole goddamn week. Every day I tell myself she’ll turn up before the sun does. Then, when she doesn’t, I go to work, convinced I’ll find her here when I get back. I don’t know why I tell myself such bullshit. I’ve never been much for denial. For some reason this time I just can’t get a fucking grip on things. I knew it could happen. Actually, I was pretty damn sure she would bolt as soon as I told her everything. I don’t even know why I knew that, other than she’s a creature of flight who lives in constant fear of being the cause of someone else’s pain.
Ironic, really. Considering how much she’s fucking hurting me by being gone. Only she can’t see that. Or maybe she does. I don’t know. I just know she believes staying will hurt me more than leaving. She’s fucked up in the head that way. Fucked up in the heart. Fucked up to her very core. And if I ever find the bastard who fucked her up, I’ll kill him.
Her flight for California departs in less than five days. I’m guessing Kirsten will show up on day six to collect all the stuff Quinn couldn’t carry on foot when she left here in the middle of the night. I had half a mind to offer her a ride, but she seemed hell-bent on sneaking out, so eventually I just faked sleep to make it easier on her.
But it’s been a motherfucking week. And I’m done faking sleep and making shit easier for her. If she wants out, I’m going to make her tell me. To my face. And then I’m going to convince her she’s wrong .
Feeling amped up from the self-motivational rant I gave myself on the way over here, I jump from my truck and slam the door shut. I practically run up to the front door, and I don’t even give a shit if anyone sees me. I’m not here to play games. The whole damn household is welcome to know exactly what I’m here for. Quinn.
Kirsten answers the door. She’s instantly annoyed when she sees me. “What the hell took you so long?”
“What the hell did you let her come back for?” I counter.
She drops the arm holding the door at bay, and it swings open. “I tried to send her back. Trust me.” Then she turns and goes back in, leaving me to follow her and close the door.
“Where is she? Downstairs?”
Kirsten shakes her head. “Went for a run. And since you’re here, I’m guessing she’s actually running. For a second there I was hoping maybe it was just code for sex with Riker again.”
Even as she’s using the words sex and my name, I’m scanning the room uncomfortably for her husband and kid. Thankfully, neither seem to be around.
“You don’t mind if I head to the game room and see if I can track her down?” Maybe I can follow her tracks in the sand from there.
“Go for it. But I’m warning you, it won’t be easy. She’s made up her mind. And her jacked-up little brain may be broken, but her determination is not.” Then she gives me the go-ahead nod and I take off down the stairs.
Downstairs, the sliding glass door is wide open, so she’s definitely not back yet. I’m not exactly wearing running gear, but that sure as shit isn’t going to stop me from going after her.
QUIN N
I’ve listened to the same song seventeen consecutive times now. I don’t know why I won’t take it off repeat. It’s a horrible song. All about falling in love and soulmate bullshit. And yet here I am, going for eighteen.
I’m just plugging along, keeping my eyes locked on the sand, avoiding any and all eye contact with the other people who are annoyingly out here as well. Then Harley turns on a dime and starts running back the way we came.
“Har—” I don’t even finish calling his name. He’s not running back to the house. He’s running toward Riker.
I’m tempted to keep going without Harley, but ditching him feels wrong on a level even I can’t fall down to, so I start walking toward them while they make their way over.
“What are you doing out here?” I sound snotty. I mean to.
“Taking back what’s mine.” He’s got a brazen look in his eyes, and I’m scared to ask what he’s referring to.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have left the way I did...but that doesn’t change that leaving was the right thing to do. For both of us.” I’m avoiding his gaze at all costs, until his thumb touches my chin and forces it up.
“Who the hell are you to decide what’s right for me? Huh? I’ve seen the shit job you do with your own life. Don’t you fucking go around trying to make decisions for mine,” he warns.
“Trust me. If you knew what I know, you’d be thanking me. Not running after me.”
His hand drops from my chin to his side. “Enlighten me, then.”
“Fine.” I can’t take it anymore anyway. “You want to know. I’ll fucking tell you.” But not while I’m standing so close to him. If I’m going to get this out, I have to move. And keep moving. And close my eyes, because saying the words out loud is one thing, but facing him and seeing his reaction...and watching how everything he feels for me fades into the ether is something completely different. So I pace.
“The reason I have to go back to California next week is because I have to be in court.”
“What?” I should have told him not to interrupt me. I don’t have the strength to climb over hurdles of his shock and disbelief while I do this.
“It’s civil court. This time. My trial starts next week. It’s a wrongful death case, and I’m being sued for a few gazillion dollars, which will likely be awarded considering I was already found guilty in criminal court. Of manslaughter. That’s where I was the last three years. In prison.” I stop. I still can’t face him, and my eyes are squeezed shut just in case I catch a glimpse of him walking away. I listen. Straining to hear over the wind and the waves, but I can’t make out a single sound indicating whether or not he’s moved even an inch.
The feel of his hands on either side of my face startles me into lifting my lids.
“I’m listening,” he murmurs, concentrating his gaze on mine, leaving me no way to escape this time.
“Haven’t you heard enough?” I gasp.
“You honestly think you’ve said anything that makes me want to turn away from you? What, you think I can’t fill in the blanks on this one? Think I don’t know you well enough to know you’re not a murderer?” His tone hardens when he says the word. I don’t think he’s mad at me. Well, he is. Mad at me for implying that I am one. Or that I thought he would believe I was one. Not mad that I am one. Which I am. No matter how we twist and turn the words. I killed a man .
“You can’t fix this,” I whisper. “I know you want to. I know you think you can just come to my rescue and hold me until I stop screaming, but it won’t work this time. My moments of peace with you were fleeting. And I knew it all along. I tried to tell you.” I force myself to stop before I say anymore and start weeping into his chest.
“What’s a gazillion dollars? Really. What’s the real number?”
My eyes slant. Damn him. “Why?”
“I’ll pay it. If your biggest fucking problem here is paying off the assholes who unleashed the beast who beat you, then yes, I can fix it. And your stubborn ass isn’t going to stop me.” He doesn’t sound nearly as convinced as he’d like to. He sounds desperate. Scared.
“Even if that was the biggest fucking problem here, paying my debt is not yours to do. I am not your responsibility. And I don’t want to be.” I push back, freeing myself from him and those devastating eyes.
“If it’s not the money or the trial, then what is it?”
I take a deep breath in and swallow down the fear threatening to take me out before I can finish what I set into motion. Then I let it all go. “The problem is that I don’t have any feelings. Not for you. Not for anyone. I had feelings once. And I wasted them on the wrong person for many years. Until one day, when something broke inside me. Literally.” I search his face and zero in on his black pupils and the empty abyss I crave right now. I let it pull me in, away from here. Away from everything until I’m just floating far off in the distance where I can barely hear my own voice anymore. “I killed him. And now I’m dead. You can’t fix dead, Riker. You’re just going to have deal with it.”
“You’re not dead. I’ve felt the warmth of your breath on my lips when you’ve kissed me with more passion than most people are capable of. I’ve heard your heart beat out of your chest after you’ve made love to me. And I’ve seen the way your body comes to life under my touch. You. Are. Not. Dead. And even if you were, it wouldn’t change a damn thing. I am in love with you.” His mouth charges at mine and stops short where he hovers, a raspy rumble coming from his lips. “Deal with that .”
His kiss takes me so rapidly my head is spinning. Or maybe it’s from hearing him say those words. The words I was hoping he would never say. Because now there’s only one way out.
“Don’t.” I push his chest and break away from him.
“Why not?” He’s not trying to kiss me anymore, but he’s not letting go of me either.
“Because.” I stare him down square in the eyes. “I don’t love you.”
He bites his lip, dropping his head to his chest. “Really? You’re going to do this?”
I shrug out of his grip. “I have to. Not telling you the truth would be wrong. I’ve led you on for long enough.”
When his head rises again, his mouth is one thin line, and his jaws are clearly clenched. “But you’re not telling the truth. You’re lying straight to my face.”
“I’m not,” I insist, my tone void of all emotion. “You just don’t want to hear it.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.” And for the first time, he physically turns away from me. “I don’t know what else I can do here, Quinn. I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for. I’ve respected your privacy. Did all I could to earn your trust. Shared with you the darkest, most devastating parts of my life. And did the one thing I swore to myself I would never do again: I gave you my heart. And yes, I know you didn’t ask for it. And fuck, I get that you don’t want it. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me that you didn’t give me yours too.”
I clamp down on my own tongue so hard I taste blood, but it’s the only way I know how to hold it together right now. By keeping my focus on something small. Simple. Like the sharp pain in my tongue .
I grind my jaw back and forth one last time, and I think I may need stitches by the time this is over. Then I do it...I say it again.
“I’m sorry this is so hard for you to accept. But I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I am not now, nor have I ever been, in love with you.”
His eyes narrow, and fury flares inside them. “Take it back,” he snarls through gritted teeth. “Take it back, Quinn, or I swear I’m walking away and I’m not coming after you again. Because I can’t...I can’t keep doing this with you.” Then his face loses all tension and he whispers, “Or did you forget, you’re not the only broken person standing here?”
It takes everything I’ve got not to say and do whatever it takes to erase the hurt so clearly pouring out of him. But I can’t. Not when I know it would only be temporary.
“I won’t take it back. I can’t.”
For some idiotic reason, I expect him to continue to fight. To say something else. Anything to get me to change my mind. Because on some sick, selfish level I’m desperate for him to change it. Only he doesn’t. He turns and walks away just like he said he would. And I have no choice but to stand here and watch him.