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I jumped down off the counter and my arms automatically crossed over my chest, showing him just how pissed off I was at the moment. It was like the first protest he made had him going right back on his word.
A muscle ticked in his jaw and I knew I absolutely was not the only person standing here in this kitchen who had instantly morphed right into a seriously angry person.
"I'm still working something out," he snapped at me, and my eyebrows rose as a cruel, mocking smirk crossed my face.
"You're still working something out," I repeated slowly in a dark, cruel voice that was very different from the one I normally used. "When I've already got it all figured out, but you'd rather Romero stay there and suffer all because you can't stand the thought of me beginning to take care of myself. And not just myself, but the rest of us as well. It's not even like I'm asking to do it all by myself either. I'm going to need Jules's help to get him out from behind the bars, and I'm going to need you waiting for me somewhere we agree to meet at so we can get him out of there safely. I can't do it all by myself, I'm going to need help."
All my points were valid, and I knew he agreed with everything I said when the muscle in his jaw ticked again angrily. Admitting I was right would not be something he wanted to do right about now, it went against everything he stood for, everything they'd all been taught about women.
Work was a dirty word when you had magic and a vagina.
I'd thought we were over this.
I kept pushing, because I needed to get through to him and I needed him on my side for this.
"Do you want to be the one to tell Dash that his father had to stay in that horrible fucking place even one second longer than what he had to because you didn't want to swallow your pride and allow someone else to take charge for once and handle things? Because I sure as—"
He leaned in toward me threateningly and cut me off as he waved his hand through the air in between us in a slicing motion. "If you think Dash would ever be down with you putting yourself in harm’s way on his behalf, then you don't know him like you think you do, because you'd be way the fuck wrong. None of them would ever do that, but especially not Dash. Christ, Ariel. He's still all fucked up over what happened when that creep Chuck showed up on his fucking doorstep wielding a knife like a damn sword. I swear, to this day, he still has nightmares about it. If something else were to happen to you and this time because you went off searching for someone he thinks is long since dead, he will lose his motherfucking mind."
"Dash will be just fine," I replied breezily, like the shit he'd just spewed out at me hadn't struck me deep and I wasn't bleeding out on the inside. Dash had been seriously upset downstairs, and the urge to run down and hug him was overwhelming. The thought of him being upset with me in any way was almost too much to bear.
Quinton rocked back on his heels and shook his head angrily. "Eat your fucking lunch before it gets cold," he snapped at me while running his hands through his short, dark brown hair. "We can talk this out while you eat."
My eyes widened in shock, because that sounded a whole lot like he was giving in. And Quinton Alexander never did that, not when it came to important things that mattered to his family. He was the protector of the group, it was his job to take care of us, and it wasn't simply a job to him. He lived for it.
He dropped the plate down on the counter beside me and bent into me. His hands went to the backs of my thighs and I was lifted up clean off my feet. My hands rested on his shoulders while my butt was dropped down onto the counter. He scooted me back to where I'd be comfortable and then his hands left me and he turned away from me. He picked up his own plate and leaned his hips against the island across from me.
For someone who claimed we would talk it out while we ate, he did absolutely zero talking. Instead, he watched me with a thoughtful expression on his face while he ate every single bite of food on his plate. Since he didn't talk, I figured my best move at this point would be to follow his lead, so I copied him and picked up my burger. I took a bite and dropped my plate back down on the counter.
I jumped down off of the counter and moved to the fridge. I dug out the mayo, dill hamburger pickle slices, and a ziplock bag with a sliced up tomato in it. Using a butter knife I got out of the silverware drawer, I pried off the top bun and slathered mayo on top of the melted cheese. I unscrewed the pickle jar and fished out a small handful of pickles. I piled them on top of the mayo and screwed the cap back on the jar. I pulled out a thick tomato slice from the plastic bag and slapped that down on top of the pickles. Then, for good measure, I slathered some more mayo onto the bun before plopping it back down on top of my burger. I put everything back away where I got it from, except for the butter knife, which I rinsed off and left in the sink. Later I would put it away in the dishwasher with our plates and the rest of the dishes Quinton dirtied while cooking lunch for me.
I hopped back up on the counter and put my plate in my lap. I picked up the burger and lifted it to my face. Before taking my first bite, I glanced up at Quinton to find him staring at me in horror. "The only thing that would make this even more awesome than it already is at the moment, which I'm sure is an insane amount of awesome already, would be if it had some onion rings on it," I informed him, and took a giant bite out of the burger.
"Mmm," I groaned happily. Really, I loved food. And I had been right, it was definitely awesome and onion rings would have made it even more so.
"Jesus, you're a weirdo," Quinton muttered under his breath.
I didn't care, he could think whatever the hell he wanted. It tasted good and that was all that mattered. He could plain Jane his food all he wanted, and if that worked for him then good for him. It didn't work for me. Sometimes he could be such a snob and I felt sad for him because of it.
I finished my burger, but could only eat about half of the pasta salad before I had to call it quits and set the plate back down on the counter beside me. Quinton rinsed his plate off and left it in the sink before coming over to pick my plate up. He ate the rest of the pasta salad off it and then rinsed my plate off in the sink.
"You know they're going to freak out if you do this, right?" he asked me quietly without bothering to look at me. "They will see it as an act of betrayal and they will all be pissed. They might say some unfortunate things to you that will stick with you long past when you come back with Romero, and I don't want that for you. But, what's more, I don't want that for them. After everything Annabell put us all through, something like this could tear them apart. And then, when you come back, it will be so much worse for them because they will feel horrible for not having trusted you in the first place. It's going to be messy."
Holy. Fucking.Shit.
He was...
Quinton Alexander was giving in. He was going to let me do this because he really did trust me.
"Quinton," I whispered in a choked up voice, not even beginning to comprehend what was happening here.
"I’m down for damage control when you get back, baby, but I need you to know before you actually go through with it that it might be horrible for you when you get back for a while. Is going to get Romero worth it to you? Is it more important than your relationships with them? You need to ask yourself these questions, because what you decide to do next is going to change everything. Make sure you know what you're doing before you make that choice."
He was right, absolutely, about all of it. They were going to hate me while I was gone, and every single one of them who wasn't in on it would feel an immense amount of hurt and betrayal by my actions. Until it was over, that is. Then they'd likely feel an immense amount of guilt. But I thought it would be worth it if it worked out in the end.
So, really, I didn't even have to think about it.
"It'll be worth it," I said with confidence I actually felt, because I believed in myself and what I was about to do.
