She cast her eyes away. It was like he could see in her, through her. It was too much, yet she still wanted to wrap herself around him and beg him to never leave her side.
Whoa.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “What made you want to do that? Your mother said you and your brothers were all in the Air Force.”
He rolled onto his back, folding his hands behind his head. “Del serves full-time. KC finished when he was thirty, and now he’s in the reserves. I was in until I was twenty-eight when an accident required me to be honorably discharged, but ineligible to serve in the reserves.”
Her eyes slid to his right eye. The one that was lighter than the left. The one with the skin faded and pale with ragged edges. But it wasn’t ugly; it was the opposite, making this already stunning man more fascinating.
“Your eye?” she asked, reaching out to stroke a finger over the pale skin.
He closed his eyes and nodded. “Chemical burn from working on a plane. I’m color-blind in that eye, which is a no-no in the Air Force. And I love to fly. It crushed me when it happened. When I was recovering, I was so pissed at the world. I had my life ripped from me, my dream, all because someone didn’t tighten a gasket.” His voice stayed calm, despite a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “When I found out I was ineligible to even serve in the reserves, my life was practically over. My parents tried to help, but I didn’t want to listen to them. ‘God has a plan for you, Quinn,’ Dad would always say. And Ma?” He rolled his eyes. “She was happy her baby was alive and could see. It wasn’t until I met Dan, another pilot at the VA hospital, that Ma’s words really hit home.”
Piper’s fingers stroked through his hair, wanting to help calm whatever bad feelings he was conjuring up.
“His injury took his eyesight.” Quinn blinked, and Piper saw the flash of emotion he tried to hide. “After talking to him, I became more thankful of the gift I still had—my sight. It might not be perfect anymore, but I can still see and still do the things I love, even if it’s not in the area I’d prefer. I didn’t have anything taken from me, I realized. I had new doors open up. That’s how life works, Piper.”
Her fingers stilled in his hair. Suddenly she felt as if he was talking about more than his accident. “Well, from what I gather,” she said, a little choked up, “you’re probably very good at your job. You’ve managed to turn my insides out.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Then I’ve accomplished my goal.”
In a flash, his arms were wound around her back, his lips were on hers, dragging her to that sweet place.
“Everyone has a story, Piper. It’s a matter of whether or not you want to tell it…or learn from it. Grandpa taught me that.” He kissed the corner of her lips before releasing her.
“He’s a very smart man.”
“Indeed. He’s taught us all the importance of being the best we can be—in life, love, and when dealing with others.” The streetlamp light caught his eyes, and they glistened. “Like you. If it weren’t for what I’ve been through, I would have never known what to do about you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You make it sound like I was some sort of a conquest.”
A chuckled rolled out him, rattling his chest against hers. “It was nothing like that. You did something to me that I couldn’t shake. Only one person has done that before, and I didn’t want to let it go.”
“Maddie…” Piper let the word hang between them like a question. She was certain that was who he was referring to, but she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be compared to his dead wife.
Quinn sat up in bed and rolled his shoulders, swinging his legs to the side. His back was to her now, taking away any comfort she’d felt when he was lying next to her.
“Would you like to hear about her?” he asked, his voice still steely calm.
“Only if you want to tell me.” Piper herself had loved someone and lost him, and she didn’t know if her heart could handle listening to Quinn tell a story she could barely tell herself.
“We’d known each other since kindergarten. She lived right next door to Ma and Dad. We hated each other at first, of course. Imagine, three young boys with a house full of sisters next door.” He chuckled. “Recipe for disaster. Frogs in their bicycle baskets, worms in their tea cups. One day when we were in the fifth grade, she was racing home from her friend’s house on her bike. She hit a pothole and flipped over the handlebars. I happened to be playing basketball down by the school with some friends and saw the whole thing. I remember that day like it was yesterday.”
His head tipped back. Piper didn’t know if his eyes were closed or not, if he was looking up toward the heavens or not, but she imagined he was reliving that day over in his head.
“Her arm was broken, and her ankle was sprained. I helped her home…”
“You rescued her,” Piper said, imagining a younger Quinn rushing to anyone’s aide. That was his type of thing to do.
“The boys made fun of me, but I didn’t care. She quickly became my only friend, besides my brothers, and I was the only one who got to sign her arm cast. I didn’t want to be around anyone but her. Even though she was girl, we had a lot in common.
“Enter puberty and high school, and everything changed.” His shoulders rolled back. “Gone were the silly conversations about who could ride their bike faster. Gone were the contests about who could eat ice cream faster. I grew up, she filled out, and everything changed…”
Piper touched a hand to his shoulder. His story was aching familiar to her own story with Steven.
“You loved her,” she said quietly.
He nodded. “The first love is a different kind of love. Innocent, I think. When two people don’t really know who they are, but they find respite in each other.”
Tears stung the back of Piper’s eyes. Quinn was exactly right.
“Our junior year she was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Surgery was not an option. Chemo would only prolong the inevitable, and she refused to have the last days of her life strung out in sickness and hospital visits. She wanted to live.”
The tears crested and broke, falling down Piper’s cheek, splashing silently on the covers beneath her. Piper’s first love Steven hadn’t been given that option to live. His life had been taken with no warning. Learning about Maddie, Piper realized she and Quinn had a connection she was not prepared for.
“The day she turned eighteen, we were married.” Quinn’s voice had gone soft, distant. “She passed away less than a month later.”
“Oh, Quinn.” Her arms were around him in an instant. His hand stroked across her forearm.
“She was happy when she passed. She had lived.”
Piper’s heart wrenched tightly, squeezing the air right out of her lungs. “That’s why you won’t marry again, isn’t it?”
He bobbed his head. “I promised her she would be the only one. And I’ll keep that promise.”
This man, this wonderfully perfect man was wounded like she was. Only he didn’t even realize it.
“And you won’t love because you believe it’s selfish,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her right hand. “We’re perfect for each other, Piper.”
Her vision blurred. He was ridiculously right.
She rested her head against the strength of his back. “I know what you feel about losing Maddie, Quinn. It wasn’t only my parents I lost.”
Finally he twisted, curling his arms around her back and swinging her around to sit in his lap. “Tell me,” he said, his voice still low.
They fit perfectly together, she noticed. Skin on skin, heart to heart as she drew herself closer to his chest. She inhaled deeply, desperately needing to feel soothed by his scent, his arms, just him.
“His name was Steven.” She closed her eyes, pressing her face to heat of his chest. “He was the son of my dad’s embalmer. Black hair, eyes so dark it didn’t look like he had pupils. And he was always mulling about, asking my dad questions about dead people. Creepy. I didn’
t talk to him the entire first year.”
Quinn chuckled, sending a puff of air through her hair. “How old were you?”
“Eight. My mom passed away when I was nine, an accident when she was having routine surgery.”
“I’m so sorry, Piper.”
Her throat went tight. “At the funeral, Steven was there. And suddenly, in my state of grief, he didn’t seem so creepy. He was actually…helpful. Bringing me glasses of water and boxes of Kleenex. I didn’t leave my mother’s side for days.” She attempted to shrug off the memory of seeing her loving mother, her face devoid of her beaming smile, lying in a casket lined with white satin. “After that we were sort of inseparable.”
As she spoke, Quinn’s hand rubbed up and down her back, his breath that essential soothing sound in her ear.
“When Steven turned sixteen, he bought his dream car—a sixty-nine Camaro. It was a beat-up old thing, but it ran, and ran well. And way too fast.” She shuddered at the coming reel of memories. But no matter how tightly she clenched her eyes, she couldn’t keep them from flooding her mind. They’d been hanging out with friends by the old quarry behind the Millstone. Young and stupid, needing to find something to do to keep from going insane. A hot summer night, a few beers and boredom stole her first and only love. She could still hear the screeching of the tires along the pavement. She could still feel the dribble of blood that had cascaded down her head from the crash. And she could remember, in perfect detail, Steven’s lifeless eyes as he lay against the steering wheel.
“Car crash,” she choked out. Why hadn’t she died too? Why was life so ridiculously cruel?
He cradled her tighter, making the tension bunch up in her body. Quinn cared about her and her feelings. Just as she was slowly beginning to care about him. Like, really care. What had she gotten herself into with this man? She was pouring out her heart and soul, letting him into a place where she’d never let anyone.
“Then Dad passed when I was twenty-five, and I’ve been alone ever since.” She ended her heart pouring on a solemn note, wiping the tears from her face. It was the first, and the last time she would ever speak to anyone about this.
“That’s no way to live, Piper.”
“Please don’t lecture me on love and happiness again.”
His arms fell away and the stab of loss she felt was unsettling.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said quietly. “You and I have been through similar things, and it’s human nature to comfort.”
“I’ve just never told anyone this before.”
He gave her a soft look, the kind that made her feel like he could see her insides again. “That’s understandable. But your profession has taught you the need for support during difficult times, so please…let me comfort you.”
“I don’t know how.”
His arms wound around her again. He kissed the top of her head and simply held her. Instead of tensing up at the tenderness in his tone and touch, she curled herself into him, relishing in how perfect he was. For a moment. She would only allow herself this moment.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“May I say just one more thing?” he asked, pulling away slightly to look her in the eye.
She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for one of his soul-searching statements. “Of course.”
“My family’s always taught me that dying is not a goodbye…it’s until next time.”
Until next time. She closed her eyes, grief swallowing her whole. Her mother’s hugs long gone, her father’s knowledge no more, and the only love she’d ever known had been flickered out right in front of her eyes. If there was indeed a next time, she wanted to ask those she’d lost why they’d ever loved her. Why would they put themselves in a position to break someone’s heart? Then again, maybe she was the selfish one for loving them in the first place.
“Love isn’t worth the next time, Quinn,” she whispered. “Just like you’ve learned that marriage isn’t worth it, either.”
And with that, she drifted off to sleep.
<<<<>>>>>
It was worth it, Quinn thought as he stretched next to Piper and watched her sleep. It was more than worth it. While he was a man who thought his heart could only belong to one woman in marriage, it belonged to whomever he chose in love. And being right here, with Piper, knowing that she’d struggled in telling him of her past, the same as he had struggled with his, made him feel an unfurling in his chest, pulling the treasure that was Piper into his heart…in love.
He loved this woman. He’d known it was coming, but hadn’t expected it to come so fast or for it to feel like this. He remembered when he’d first felt the sprinkle of love with Maddie. They’d been so young, so silly with their feelings. His love for her was a flutter in his chest, wanting to see her laugh, needing to see her happy even though she was going through the biggest battle of her life. What they’d had had been innocent and devoid of the turmoil that life would teach them. Until it was too late, that is—too late for Maddie. While they’d known each other for practically all their lives, their love hadn’t had time to grow into a deep respect, a kindred spirit of togetherness and happily-ever-after. They’d known how their love story would end. In tragedy. So they’d keep most things light, free of tangles and arguments and stupid things. They’d never grown with each other as adults do. They’d never had to share scary moments of life, until death had taken Maddie’s. Innocent love. The perfect kind that didn’t get to sprout fully into something stronger, bottomless, forever.
He’d thought he’d been in love with other women, but now he could see that wasn’t true at all. With others, he’d merely been in lust. Wanting to gain pleasure from their touch, wanting them to have pleasure from his. But there was no dying need to keep them safe, no voice in his ear about never letting them go, no surge to protect them and keep them happy. With Piper, he had all of that and more. He had the same feelings he’d had for Maddie, and on top of that, he had that deeper connection. The kind he thought didn’t even exist. But as his heart beat faster as he looked at her, he knew this was love. Undying, pure, strong, deep, long lasting love. All of the things he could have had with Maddie. And all of the things he’d been missing since Maddie.
He kissed Piper’s bare shoulder and pulled up the blanket to cover her. Settling in next to her he whispered against her soft skin, “Please don’t run away from me again. I promise to give you only what you ask for.”
And with that, Quinn allowed himself to fall asleep next to the woman he loved, but would never be able to tell.
Chapter Seventeen
“You’re a sticky one, Mr. Monroe,” Piper said to the man lying on her stainless steel table. For a fifth time, she tried to insert the embalming needle into his neck. Her hands wouldn’t quit shaking. Maybe it wasn’t Mr. Monroe at all.
Three days had passed, and Piper was going out of her mind. She wasn’t used to thinking about a man when she first opened her eyes in the morning. She wasn’t used to wishing he’d call and say hello. And she certainly wasn’t used to the clawing and heart-pounding going on in her chest, thinking about the next time she’d see him.
She loved it.
She hated it.
And she had no idea what to do about it. She’d been very serious when she’d asked Quinn “What have you done to me?” He’d shifted her entire world, everything she thought she knew, in such a short amount of time. He tucked himself into her life—into her heart—without even trying. And she was furious about it. With him, with herself, with everything she’d tried to stay away from for so long.
Love was selfish. End of story.
But why couldn’t she keep her hands from twitching at the thought of him? Why, for the love of the best German chocolate, could she not push his captivating eyes out of her mind?
She knew the answer, but she couldn’t admit it. That would be her biggest weakness. Admitting he’d gotten under her skin, twisting her feelings and making her care, would be the worst thing she cou
ld do—for the both of them. If it killed her, and it probably would, she would keep what they had simple, detached, just sex. That was what she knew. And that was the only thing she wanted, needed. As long as Quinn could keep his end of their bargain, she could do the same. She would do the same. After all, they were great together. Fan-freakin’-tastic in bed. He was a lover who pleased her endlessly, ruthlessly, perfectly. She wasn’t about to give that up. Loving was selfish, but keeping a man who was phenomenal in bed was plain smart.
The swish of the embalming room door made Piper’s head snap up.
“Got everything packed and ready for the conference this weekend?” Margo asked, trundling in and plopping a box down on the counter.
The equipment in Piper’s hand clanked to the tile floor. “Oh, my God, I forgot all about it. I thought that was in a few weeks.”
Margo’s cheeks folded into a frown. “Uh, no. You all right?”
Piper scrambled to pick up the needles and tubes from the floor, jamming them back into their holders on the wall. Swiping her arm across her forehead, she answered, “A little scatterbrained, I guess. Ignore me.” She ran her hands down her plastic apron and hustled to the other side of the room. Stripping off her gloves and smock, she rattled off a list of things she had forgotten to do.
“I need to call the convention people and ask them about speaking on behalf of the foundation. I thought I’d have more time than this. Jessica’s still out, and I need to find someone to work in the office while I’m gone. Where does someone find a replacement that I don’t really want? Gavin mentioned something about going to the convention and wanted me to do something…jeez, what was it?”
Margo’s hand fell on her shoulder. “Should I be writing this stuff down for you, Piper?”
Piper spun about, her face heating with some unknown discomfort. “Oh, no. I’ve got it under control.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
Piper’s eyes narrowed. “When you operate your own funeral home, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
Margo’s hands shot up. “Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you. Listen, why don’t you let me take over for Jess while you’re gone—” She held up a hand before Piper could protest. “It’ll give me good practice. I think I can handle this place for a few days, Piper. You go call the convention people right now, and I’ll call Gavin for you. Then you can gather up all the stuff you need to go. That way you’ll be packed and ready to jump on your plane first thing Friday morning.” Her thick brow shot up. “You do have a plane ticket, don’t you?”
Until Next Time Page 20