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“I’m not. That guy has a permanent hard-on for you.”
“Oh my God!” I say, mouth agape, as I turn to look at him. “That’s not true, and you’ve just put visuals in my head that I wish I could burn out with acid, so thanks for that.”
Quinn leans forward, inches away from my face.“Good. The only visual I want in your head is me.”
I gasp, and Quinn gives me that damn lopsided smile before slumping back into his seat.
The car door opens, which startles me, and I yelp, jumping about five inches off my seat, nearly hitting my head on the truck roof.
“Okay, all set,” Justin says, tossing the key card onto the dash as he takes a seat behind the wheel.
He looks over at me and smiles.
“Everything okay, Mia? You look flustered. Is it hot in here?” Justin asks, turning on the A/C.
Giving Justin a polite smile, I don’t reply.
He parks his truck, and we exit. Quinn and I look around.
The hotel is perfect.
Not only does it have an underground parking lot for easy escape but the pretentious clienteles’ heads are so far up their own asses, they won’t want anything to do with us.
Looks like Quinn and I should be fine—for now.
As we enter the two-bedroom apartment, Justin tosses his bag onto the carpet in the living area.
“I can crash out here if you two want to take a room each,” Justin suggests, sinking into the huge brown sofa and crossing his legs onto the coffee table in front of him.
“No need,” Quinn says, which are the first two words he’s spoken to Justin in hours.
I cringe when I hear the bitterness behind his tone. It’s probably better he doesn’t speak to him again.
Justin looks over at me, raising his pierced eyebrow, and suddenly, I feel embarrassed for some stupid reason, so I avert my eyes, finding the corner lamp the most interesting thing in the world.
“Oh, right,” Justin says, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he stands. “Okay, well, I’m just going to make a call.”
And he awkwardly reaches for his bag, entering the room to his left. Thankfully, ours is across the hall from his.
When his door shuts, I look up at Quinn and raise an eyebrow at him.
“What?” he says, faking ignorance with a dimpled smile.
I roll my eyes and decide to take a shower before I make contact back home.
After a scorching shower I only stepped out of because I didn’t want to hog all the hot water, I’m sitting on the edge of our king-sized bed, waiting for Quinn to finish up in the bathroom so we can call Abi. She’s working the late shift at the diner,and I can’t help but think about Bobby Joe’s.
I miss it.
I miss the simplicity of going to work, doing my job, and coming home to Hank.
After visiting the church in New Orleans, I feel like I’ve made peace with myself over Hank’s death.I will never forgive myself for what happened to him and will forever be at fault, but I have to try to move on because Hank would have wanted that. The selfless person he was, he would tell me to go on because I’m alive, and he would want me to live my life without this awful sense of regret.
However, deep down, I know the only way for me to ever really move on will be when the people responsible for his death pay for what they did to him. And by pay, I mean them being dead.
“Whatcha thinking?” Quinn asks as the bathroom door opens, and when he steps out, I forget to swallow.
He’s dressed in snug black jeans and nothing else.
