She gives me a smile that is all Quinn—cockiness and sass. “I know.”
A low chuckle escapes me. Some things will never change. “If you’re so all-knowing then you already know I’m not going anywhere tonight. I’m staying with you.”
Her earlier sass fades, and I can tell she’s becoming tired once more. “Hold me, Colt.”
I glance at the bed, feeling uncertain. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Get over here already,” she mumbles, turning onto her side and wincing with pain.
Very carefully, I climb into the bed and spoon her from behind, careful of the IV connected to her arm. She releases a satisfied sigh, and her body immediately relaxes into mine. I’m so relieved to have her back in my arms again, and I press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. It’s also a relief to know that she’s still Quinn, but there will be some changes that I’ll have to adjust to, and I’m okay with that. We’ll get through it together.
When a nurse comes in to check on Quinn, her eyes widen when she sees me in the hospital bed, and when she begins to frown, I give her a glare that warns her I’m not moving a goddamn inch.
Thirty
Quinn
I’m struggling with life in general.
It’s been three days since I came home from the hospital, and I see things differently now. I know it won’t last, and that I’ll grow accustomed to everyday necessities like water, food, and simple comfort once more. But right now, I’m just taking each day at one at a time, trying to overcome the turmoil that I’m feeling inside.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m ecstatic to be home and to be with Colt. This is exactly where I want to be, but yet it’s all changed. I’ve changed. I don’t know how to be the way I was before, though I know she’s somewhere inside me. She peeks out from time to time, but I’m having a tough time connecting with her.
I also see the way they watch me when they think I’m not looking. Everyone’s either waiting for me to break down, or expecting me to clue them in on how to act around me. Even Colt is prone to that. He’s more careful around me, and I can’t blame him. I sleep in his bed every night, comforted by his presence when the nightmares come. But that’s where the affection ends. As much as I want him to touch me, I’m incredibly self-conscious of the healing wounds on my body. I will never look the same, and I can’t bring myself to look at myself in the mirror when I bathe. I don’t want to see what will be my new normal.
Gabe’s supposed to be changing my bandages since he’s a paramedic and knows what he’s doing, but I refuse to let him tend to me. I take the bandages off and clean the wounds, looking at them as little as possible, and when I’m done gritting my teeth and doing what needs to be done, I cover them up again and go on with the day.
I lift the glass and take a sip of lemonade while I stare aimlessly at the pool. I’m sitting on the patio while the others are at work. It’s the first day I’ve managed to talk Colt into going back. I think the only reason he’d given in is because Gabe has the day off. Someone’s home to babysit me.
It’s sad that my life has come to this, but I can’t complain. I’m alive. This feeling of being studied under a microscope won’t last forever. I just need to find a way to move on with my life, but right now, my body is still healing. I can’t go back to work until I can move and lift my arms without feeling pain from my injuries. I’m hoping next week I might be able to go back part-time and work my way up.
Shane eventually creeps into my mind as he usually does, and I’m beginning to realize that it was no accident that he’d chosen me. I reminded him of the woman in Maine, and he’d set his sights on me before I’d probably ever laid eyes on him behind the bar. That knowledge eases the part of me that’s been feeling guilty for so long over allowing him into my life. I thought I’d done this on my own, but I hadn’t. Not that it absolves me from all my bad decision making, but it does help knowing that this mess wasn’t all of my own creation.
I might have come to terms with how this all happened, but he still haunts me when I sleep. He haunts me with every move I make. The pain brings to surface the memory of him slashing at my skin. When I’m thirsty, I think of how he’d drank a bottle of water in front of me that first night, warning me that it was the closest I’d ever come to water again. He was eager to inflict any kind of mental torture that he could. The worst were his taunts after he’d cut up my chest. He’d laughed and told me that if he allowed me to survive, Colt would never want me again. That no one would. I know they’re just words. Colt would never let something like scars come between us. I know that, but I still can’t shake off the dread I feel every time I think about undressing in front of him.
I need help.
I know that.
That’s why I’m sitting out by the pool while Gabe is somewhere inside the house, frustrated that I’m not opening up to him. I need to pull myself together and make the call. It’s just hard setting up an appointment to speak to a total stranger about the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to me. I certainly don’t want to relive it by talking about it, but I also know that I don’t think I can move on without outside help. It’s just too much for me to wrap my head around at this point. I don’t think anyone could understand what I’m going through unless they’ve been kidnapped by a complete psycho.
Just do it, I tell myself.
If I want to move on, this is the first step.
I push off the chair and stand. It’s a gorgeous day out, but I don’t really see it. Not anymore. But I will soon, I hope.
When I reach my bedroom, I step inside and close the door for privacy. The card is still sitting on the dresser, and I pick it up along with my phone and walk to the bed, sitting down. I don’t give myself time to second guess my decision, and I call the number. Dr. Barush must’ve been expecting my call, because the receptionist recognizes my name immediately. She tells me there’s an opening at five, and I go ahead and reserve the appointment.
Okay, that wasn’t so bad.
Next, I text Colt. I have an appointment at five.
I know he can’t keep his phone on him during his shift, but I do know he checks it on and off. When he sees that I have the appointment set—the one he’d began urging me to make yesterday—he’ll make certain he’s home in time.
Oddly enough, I feel a little better, and I set the phone down on the bed. I’m not the old Quinn who felt she could take on the world on her own. Sometimes, a little help is needed, and I’m ready to allow others to help me. That craving for independence is still within me, and I have every intention of getting back on my feet and doing everything I used to.
I will get there. And I now know that it’s okay to get a little help along the way.
***
I can’t sleep.
Not that I really want to anyway. When I sleep, he comes to me in my nightmares.
Colt’s not sleeping either, I can tell. He’s lying behind me, spooning me, but his body isn’t as relaxed as it typically is when he’s fallen asleep. I’m certain his mind is on me, and I wish I wasn’t causing him so much distress.
He’s been so good to me. He’d made it home in time today to take me to my appointment, and he’d patiently waited in the lobby while I’d spoken one on one with Dr. Barush. I didn’t think I’d like her, but she’s an older woman with the kindest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. There’s just something about her that makes me want to confide in her. I think she’s going to be good for my recovery process, and I’m looking forward to my next session.
“Quinn?” Colt asks softly, his voice near my shoulder.
“Hmm?”
His reply is silence.
A frown tugs on my lips as I stare into the darkness of his room. I’ve always pushed him to be open with me, but now he’s back to keeping his thoughts to himself, and it’s all my fault. “What is it?” I ask lightly.
“Never mind.” He shifts his body, and I feel him press a kiss to my shoulder where it’s covered by a t-shirt.
Come on Quinn, you survived a psychotic serial killer, you can handle an honest conversation with your boyfriend, an inner voice inside me chides. I know it’s right, but that doesn’t make it any less difficult.
I close my eyes and debate what to do. Talking has always come easy for me, until now.
Don’t let him win, the inner voice warns.
I’d fought to survive, and I’m here because I didn’t give up. I can’t give up now, especially not on the one man that means the world to me. I draw in a deep breath and exhale, feeling the sensation of all my stitches tugging. I’m so afraid that Colt won’t love the person that I’ve turned into in the short span of several days. He fell for the fun-loving Quinn that had a blasé attitude towards everything. That’s no longer who I am. I think I’ve grown up more in the past week than I ever could. Life isn’t all fun and games. It can shit on you in a heartbeat.
So shower off that shit and move on, the voice in my mind says.
My eyes open, and I feel amused. Has that voice always been there? Doesn’t matter, it’s got a point. The amusement fades. I need to talk to him sometime, right?
“I’m scared,” I whisper, cracking the metaphoric door open so he can step inside the maze of emotions that resembles my mind.
“Scared? I’m right here,” Colt says, his gravelly voice full of reassurance.
“But someday, you might not want to be,” I say in a thick voice, baring my soul to him.
Colt’s silent a minute. “Can I turn on the light?”
As much as I want to say no, I know we should talk face to face—where we can see each other. “Yeah, sure,” I murmur.
He eases away from me, and the lamp switches on. I carefully turn onto my back, and I watch as he adjusts himself and lies on his side near me, his head propped on his hand. Tonight, he’s shirtless and only wearing briefs. I can feel a hint of desire coiling deep within me at the sight of his taut, sexy body, but I am nowhere near ready to act on it.
Colt’s eyes lock on mine. “I’m going nowhere, Quinn. My place is by your side.”
I shift my body so that it’s easier to look into his face. “Everything has changed,” I say quietly.
“Not my love for you.”
“I’m not the woman you fell in love with,” I say huskily, tears burning the backs of my eyes.
“The hell you’re not. Quinn, you are the same woman you were before, you’ve just evolved, that’s all. We all change as we grow older—it’s a given.” He hesitates, looking adorably uncertain. “I’m not good at saying how I feel, but I’m doing my best here.”
His confession brings a smile to my lips. “You’re doing pretty damn good.”
Instead of smiling, his eyes search mine. “Talk to me,” he urges in a soft voice.
“I’m afraid to let you see me,” I say in a rush. I swallow and look at him sadly. “I’m afraid to look at myself.”
Colt’s eyes sharpen. “This is about the scars you’ll have?”
I mutely nod.
He blinks, looking bewildered. “Why would you be afraid to let me see you?”
“They’re ugly,” I say bitterly.
He frowns and uses his free hand to cup my jaw, his head moving closer to mine. “Nothing, and I mean nothing about you could ever be ugly. Let me ask you this. If I got myself into a bad situation at the prison, and during a riot, the inmates beat the shit out of me and left my face scarred, would you leave me because of it?”
“Of course not,” I say immediately, offended that he’d think that.
His eyes burn into mine, waiting.
I fall silent, my eyebrows drawing together. “It’s not the same…”
“Isn’t it?”
“Now you’re making me feel foolish,” I mutter.
Alarm flickers across his face, and he abruptly sits up. “Shit, no. No. That wasn’t my intention.”
“I know, and it’s my own fault.” I gaze up at him and laugh dryly. “Ironic, huh? I’ve never been self-conscious in my life, and now I’m insecure to even take my shirt off in front of you.”
He reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Hey, there’s no rush Quinn. You don’t have to show me today, or tomorrow, or a month from now. I only want to see that part of you when you are in a good place and want to show me.”
I swallow hard, seeing how earnest he’s being. This man, I love him so much. “I’m sorry. None of this should be difficult, but it is. I feel lost right now, if that makes sense.”
“No one’s asking you to pretend it didn’t happen. Be you, the you that you’ve become. I loved you then, and I’ll love you more as the days go by. That’s what love is, Quinn. You taught me that.”
“I did, huh?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“You make me sound pretty smart.”
He smiles. “That’s because you are.”
We both fall silent, and he lies back down. He must be able to sense that I’m done sharing for now, because he reaches over and turns off the lamp. I turn onto my side, and he immediately moves in behind me, his lips brushing my cheek tenderly.
I close my eyes, feeling better than I had when we’d gone to bed. Tomorrow will be a new day, and I’m going to push myself a little further than I had today. And the next day, I’ll push even harder, and so on and so forth until I have my life back.
Thirty-one
Colt
For once, I beat Quinn home, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. I pull into the driveway, noting an old beat-up car parked at the curb in front of the house. A woman looks to be sitting in the driver’s seat, and I dismiss her as a friend of the neighbor’s on the left. They always have people coming and going these days.
I park the truck and head inside, closing the front door and automatically locking it. Too much shit has happened in the span of a few months to ever grow lax with that again. The door stays locked whether someone’s home or not.
My thoughts shift back to Quinn. She’d gone back to work a week ago, and she seems to be getting back into the swing of things. It’s been three weeks since the kidnapping, and it’s been a struggle for her to ease back into some semblance of normalcy. Dr. Barush has been there every step of the way, and during some of the appointments, she has me sit in on them so that Quinn can talk freely. This helps me understand some of what she’s feeling without the added pressure of her talking to me one on one. Those appointments have really opened my eyes to what she’s going through, and it’s made it easier for Quinn and me to discuss the things she’s struggling with.
A slow grin forms on my lips. She’d finally allowed me to love that body of hers last night. She’d insisted that the lights remain off, but it’s a start. We’re continuing to move forward, and that’s all that matters.
I’m just setting my bag down by the island in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I frown and go to the nearest window, peering outside. My eyes fall upon the blue car at the curb, and the driver’s side is now empty. Maybe she’s waiting for Sebastian to come home?
I walk back to the living room and open the door, studying the petite, dark-haired woman who looks to be Quinn’s age. She looks strangely familiar with her long, dark hair and doe-eyed hazel eyes. “Can I help you?” I ask politely.
She looks at me nervously and licks her lips. “Um, Colton, right?”
Fuck. Is she someone I’ve slept with? I’m terrible with remembering faces and names, because most of the time I hadn’t given a shit whose bed I was in. My face hardens. “Don’t come around here again,” I tell her, not wanting to hear what she has to say. Quinn will be home any second, and I don’t need an old
conquest standing on our doorstep when she pulls in.
The woman blinks with surprise, her lips parting. She looks momentarily stunned into speechlessness.
“One-night stands are meant to be just that,” I inform her before I begin closing the door.
“Wait!” she exclaims desperately.
It’s the desperation in her tone that has me pausing.
She digs into her purse and quickly holds out a folded piece of paper. “Here. You need to see this.”
I make no move to accept the paper. I don’t know who the fuck she is, but I don’t need any added drama in my life. Right now, I need to concentrate on Quinn, and only Quinn.
“I’m your sister!” she blurts. “Half-sister,” she belatedly amends.
My eyebrows rise. “Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing—”
“Look at my birth certificate,” she insists, shoving the paper towards me once more.
She’s not leaving until I do, so I sigh with resignation and take the paper, unfolding it. I scan it, noting that her name is Tessa Bishop. My eyes snag on my father’s name listed in the father’s space. This looks awfully real. I glance at her, and this time, I scan her features closely. Now I know why she looks so familiar—she’s a feminine version of myself.
“As far as I know, my mom never told your dad about me. When she died, he was already in prison.” She bites her lip again. “I’m willing to take a DNA test or whatever. Or…” She draws in a deep breath and gives me an accepting look. “You don’t have to get to know me at all, if that’s what you want,” she says softly.
I don’t need a DNA test to know she’s my sister. Fucking hell. This is the last thing I need going on in my life right now. I know she can’t help the horrible timing, but right now, I’m wishing she’d never appeared on my doorstep.
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