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“I’m sorry. I was only trying to protect you,” I explain, referring to my grade A asshole behavior over the past two days.
“Shhh,” he whispers, wiping away my tears with his knuckles. “I know. It just took me a little while to figure it out. But no more, okay?”
I nod, my tears spilling over my wet lashes and onto his fingers.
“We do this together. I’m here because Iwantto be here. Because I wantyou,” he says, and before I have a chance to speak, he seals his lips over mine, kissing me deeply.
My body melts as he bites my lower lip and plunges his tongue into my mouth, claiming my lips as his own. I know I belong to Quinn at this moment, and all plans of pushing him away have been rendered redundant.
So no more plans, and no more schemes. This is raw, and this is real. And this is the first time I have felt alive in two days.
Iwake after the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in two days. And I know the reason behind that is Quinn.
How is it possible I’ve grown to depend on him in such a short amount of time? I feel safe with him, as he seems to be my equilibrium. If we’re off, then so am I. But if we’re balanced, then everything is, well, steady.
“Mornin’.”
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up and look around the room, which is only illuminated by the soft glow of the small TV.
“What time is it?” I ask, clearing my throat when I see Quinn sitting on the brown sofa, channel surfing with the volume muted.
“A little after four,” he replies, his eyes fixated on the TV.
He’s propped up his bare feet on the coffee table in front of him, and his tangled hair cascades into his intense eyes as he focuses on the TV. The hard set of his jaw reveals something is wrong.
“Come here,” he says when I just sit and stare, my foggy brain playing catch-up.
It’s freezing, so I reach out and snatch one of Quinn’s zip-up sweaters from the end of the bed. I wrap myself into it, as it’s about five sizes too big. Quinn’s eyes flick up to meet mine, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his beautiful lips.
“That look suits you,” he teases, opening his arm out to the side for me to cuddle into him.
“Whatcha watching?” I ask as I sit near him, tucking my legs underneath me, his sweater covering my cold legs.
He pulls me into his side, wrapping an arm protectively around my waist. “Just checking out the news.”
“Anything?” I ask, gesturing toward the TV with my head.
“Nope,” he says, relieved.
I know he’s been checking to see if our faces have been plastered on the local news as wanted fugitives—so far, so good.
“I was thinking…what if we called the police and put in our own anonymous tip? We can say we saw two men matching my dad and Phil’s description leaving Night Cats on the night…”
But I can’t finish that sentence without wanting to hurl.
“We have to try something,” I opt for instead. “Shake it up a bit so we’re not the only ones the police want to speak to.”
“It might be worth a shot,” he replies, disheartened, and I realize it’s a stupid idea.
“I’m—”
“Red,” he says before I have a chance to finish my sentence,“I don’t want your apologies. So quit giving them to me.”
I give him a small smile, as it’s nice to hear he doesn’t hate me.
“So what do you think?” I ask, peering up at him.
“I think anything is better than nothing. Even if it falls on deaf ears, it might help take some heat off us.”
