Page 51 of Property of Quake

"I was too late,” he sneers when he faces me again.

"She died?"

He nods. "A couple years before I found her."

My heart aches for the teenage boy he once was, for the brother who never had a chance.

"I never met her,” he says, his voice breaking. "But I still miss her."

His confession shatters what’s left of my already tattered heart. Without thinking, I step closer. When I’m confident that he won’t lash out again, I move even closer.

Quake’s eyes meet mine, and they fill with tears.

“I couldn’t save her,” he says.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not, but I can’t help but wonder if things would’ve been different if I’d have stood behind my mother, stood up to my father.” He glances toward the door, the one that separates us from Melissa. “And that’s why I’ll never stop trying to help other kids."

Everything suddenly makes sense. The donations, the fundraising, the fierce protectiveness and endless need to help.

It’s never been about charity. It’s been about love.

Love for a sister he never knew, love for children who need someone in their corner, love for the underdog.

Before I can stop myself, I reach for him, settling my hand against his cheek. His breath catches, and so does mine. The moment feels impossibly still, as though the entire world has fallen away.

There’s only this, only him, only us.

My brain screams at me to move, to step back and remember who I am, what I am. I don’t... I can’t.

His gaze drops to my mouth then returns to my eyes as if asking permission, as if giving me a choice. My heart pounds so hard it’s the only sound I hear.

In the span of a few seconds, I think about Ryan, about Sister Beatrice and my vows. I think about every prayer I’ve ever whispered, every question and doubt I’ve ever had.

Then I think about the man standing in front of me, the man who protects children and kills villains. I think about the man who makes me smile and laugh when the world seems impossibly dark. I think about the man whose heart is far more good than he realizes.

A realization slams into me, and it’s terrifying.

I don’t want to move. I don’t want to step back or walk away or pretend I’m not feeling what I’m feeling.

“Whitney,” he whispers just before his lips meet mine.

The kiss is soft, tentative, and nothing like the dreams that have haunted me from the moment I met him. A whimper escapes me, and I lean closer to him, needing more.

Quake wraps a hand around the back of my neck, holding me in place as he slants his head to deepen the kiss. It crosses my mind that I don’t know what I’m doing, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Needing air, I pull away, fracturing the perfect moment. His eyes are dark, and his breathing is ragged, almost as ragged as mine.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Fear enters my mind. “Why?”

“Because, I shouldn’t have do⁠—”

“Do you regret it?” I blurt.

“No,” he says without hesitation.