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“What changed?”
“I found out the chances of that happening takes years. Or in some circumstances, never,” he replies, sucking the underside of my neck, his lip piercing chilling my skin. “And I’m not that patient.”
I shiver at the contact, heated by his words as I wonder if he is referring to something else. “And now?”
“Now what?”
“Now that you’ve grown up, what do you want to be?”
There is silence for a moment, and I can feel Quinn thinking over his answer before he replies.
“Now…now I just want to be a good man,” he finally answers, and the truth behind his words hurts my heart.
“Youarea good man, Quinn,” I reply, turning around so I can meet his eyes.
“Thanks, Red. I’m glad you think so,” he says in return, and his eyes focus on the drawing on the wall, not able to meet my probing stare.
I think so? What about him? What does he think he is? A bad man? That is so far from the truth, and I need him to believe that.
“Quinn—” But he silences me as he reaches for my chin, arching my head back and capturing my lips with his.
I know this is his way of ending our conversation, and it’s a clever derailment because I can never say no to a kiss from Quinn. We sit, making out for a while, until I need to find the restroom.
“I have to use the bathroom,” I say begrudgingly, sliding off Quinn’s lap.
Quinn attempts to move, but I place my hand on his shoulder to stop him. “No, stay. I’ll be right back.” I know he is enjoying his time here and not ready to leave yet.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I reply, kissing him and quietly exiting through the back door.
The cool December breeze hits my cheeks, and today is one of those days where magic is in the air. It could just be all the frantic shoppers buying last-minute Christmas gifts, but whatever it is, it makes me feel fortunate to be alive.
The restroom has seen better days. I enter the middle stall and quickly do my thing since I’m not a fan of public bathrooms. As I’m about to flush the toilet, I hear a gentle whispering catch on the cool winter breeze.
It’s so faint that I have to strain my hearing to confirm I’m not imagining things. But as I raise my head upward, positioning my ear under the window above the toilet, I hear it again.
I can’t make out what they’re saying, but the voices belong to men. I listen closely, blocking out all other noise, and focus on the hushed voices. The moment I hear the voice of one of the men, the walls close in on me, and I can’t breathe.
It can’t be.
It can’t behim.
Jumping up onto the toilet lid, I’m just tall enough to peer through the window, but I don’t see anyone.
Am I going crazy?
Am I imagining the voice of my…father?
Turning my head from left to right, I frantically search for the face of the man I want dead. But it’s useless. There is no place for him to hide since this window overlooks an open courtyard.
So where is the whispering coming from then?
Softly lowering my feet onto the concrete, I crouch low and reach silently into my boot for my knife. If he’s out there, then I’m facing him, armed and ready for battle.
I flick open the blade but accidentally fumble, slicing across the length of my palm when I hear his voice echoing off the dirty walls.
“Mia…it’s only a matter of time.”
