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“Yes.”

“You’re just going to leave me like this?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you can sleep.”

Quinn exhaled a soft, helpless laugh. “You’re evil.”

“Possibly.”

“You started this.”

“And now I’m ending it.”

Another quiet pause. “Goodnight, Max.” I could hear traces of amusement.

“Sleep well.” I ended the call and set the phone down.

Quinn doesn’t only respond to my hands. My voice is apparently just as effective.

That made the space between us significantly more dangerous than either of us had acknowledged.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Quinn

I checked the clock again, then immediately pretended I hadn’t.

“You’ve looked at that three times in the last minute,” Jess said from the couch where she leafed through a TV magazine.

“Lies.”

“You know what they say about a watched pot,” Maya shouted from the kitchen.

“Oh, what do they say? Because I haven’t heard that for at least an hour.” I made sure my voice was heavily laced with sarcasm.

Sam walked in with bowls of crisps and dry roasted peanuts. “He’ll be here when he gets here,” he said in a dry tone as he placed them on the coffee table next to the bowl of olives he’d already put there.

I froze, my hands outstretched. “Oh my God. Did you all feel that?”

“Feel what?” Jess demanded.

“The world just shifted on its axis, clearly jolted by such profound wisdom.” I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Sam O’Neill, Professor of the Bleedin’ Obvious.”

Sam merely chuckled.

Jess tilted her head. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not nervous.”

“Of course you are. The evidence is all around us. You’ve rearranged the cushions three times, you’ve folded the throw four times, you’ve dusted twice, and you’ve reverted to sarcasm.” Jess grinned. “You really like him.”

I flopped into an armchair and tried to look relaxed.

“Quinn.” Jess’s voice was gentle.