by Amanda Cowen
“I’m not leaving until I talk to Cash,” Daniela says, furious.
My throat squeezes shut. Goddamn it. She won’t go away.
“Cash loves you like a sister, Daniela.” I gulp nervously. “I understand that you loved Cory, but Cash did everything he could to try and make it up to you.” My pulse races as I step closer. I stand in front of her, knees locked, arms crossed tight to my chest, because my whole body is shaking so hard it’s the only way to stop from swaying on my feet. “Cash and I are together now. We’re happy. Clearly, you’ve never dealt with your loss. And I’m sorry that happened to you, but you’re not going to burden Cash anymore, because I won’t let you. You signed those divorce papers months ago, and your lawyer negotiated a temporary work visa for you. It’s your fault you didn’t fill out the proper paper work. I don’t feel sorry for you. It’s over, so get over it, and please get out of our house.”
“Is that what he tells you? I’ve never dealt with my loss?” Her voice drips with icy revulsion. “He killed the love of my life. And while I was suffering, dying inside from what I lost I had to be the strong one. The one taking care of Cash when he was too depressed to even live. I was the person who was there for him. The person who saw his decline, was beside him at worst lows and alcoholic benders. You think you know me, but you have no idea what he means to me. Cash is the older brother I never had. I’m an only child raised by a single mother. There’s no amount of money in the world that could fill the void he caused in my heart. From the very first day I moved to Thompson at seven years old, I loved Cory. He was the first friend I made on my first day of school and he was the first boy I ever kissed. We started dating when we were only thirteen years old. Cory was my entire life – I even gave up the idea of turning dancing into a full time career to stay with him in Thompson. And when he asked me to marry him, it was the happiest day of my life. Cory didn’t deserve to die.”
I swallow, unable to form any words. Why does she suddenly have me feeling sorry for her? She’s hurting, I get it, but something about her seems, off and insincere like she knows exactly which buttons to push, exactly how much disgust and guilt to inject into her tone in order to make me feel guilty, to make me feel awkward, to make me feel awful.
“I’m so sorry for what you lost. And I know Cash cares about you too. He cared about you enough to marry you, pay your rent, pay for dance lessons, and help connect you to build your career. I’m sorry, but it’s over. We have a life here in Boston, without you. And I think you should go.”
“I hate that he met you. We had a deal…no relationships until our five years was up, but he just couldn’t separate his dick from his heart long enough to do what he owed me,” she says, tersely. “And now I’m the one suffering, giving up everything so he can be with you. So he can finally be happy, even though he ruined any chance I had at happiness.”
I stiffen. “Daniela you need to calm down.”
“He can’t cut me out.” She moves forward.
I take an instinctive step back, but she doesn’t advance on me.
She starts pacing the hardwood floor instead, raking her hands through her hair like he’s trying to tear it out from the roots. “He needs to fix this.”
Anger rises in my throat. “You need to go.”
“I can’t go back to Canada.” She lunges forward and shoves me backward. “You need to get out of our lives,” she shouts and shoves me again, anger flashing in her eyes. “I want my old life back.”
Another shove and I stumble over my feet, crashing into the entryway table. I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck is happening, when she shoves me again and something hard connects with my head. CRACK. I cry out in pain before I tumble to the floor.
“I want things to go back to how they were,” she shouts, and a swift kick pounds my ribcage.
I scream out in pain again, and my bottom lip quivers wildly.
“I hate you,” she spits as pain swims in my head.
I have to fight the strangled sob that’s desperately trying to rip out of my throat as I’m moaning in and out of consciousness. I’m vaguely aware of the front door flying open, the heavy footsteps, Cash grabbing Daniela by the waist. Hauling her to the door. Hissing out a threat. Dialing 911. My head is pounding and my vision is fuzzy, making it difficult to focus on what’s going on.
I jerk when I feel a pair of soft warm arms wrap around me. It’s Cash, hugging me tight. My head drops against his shoulder and I blink away the tears threatening to surface.
“Are you okay?” he asks urgently. “Quinn, answer me.”
“No.” My response is muffled against his sleeve.
“The police arrested Daniela outside. An ambulance is on its way. Your head is bleeding, babe.” He draws me deeper into his arms and cocoons me in them.
I bury my face against his chest, and I can feel him trembling.
He kisses my nose and whispers against my lips. “Quinn. Talk to me. I need to know that you’re all right, Mittens.”
The worry and panic in his voice rises, and tears spill over and stream down my cheeks. A sob flies out as I shudder in his embrace.
This feels surreal. My heartbeat grows erratic. Sirens ring in my ears. I feel my body being lifted and removed from Cash’s warm and familiar embrace. And then suddenly there is nothing but black.
Chapter 23
Cash
“Where is she?” I muscle my way past the doctor before he can even fully open the door. My gaze darts around the waiting room, but Quinn isn’t in here.
Aiden shoots to his feet when he sees me. “She’s in the hospital room—”
I ignore him and charge forward, only to be intercepted by her classmate Nadia. “Hold on a second,” she orders, planting her palm against my chest. “What the hell happened?”
“Move it, Nadia,” I snap.
“They’re running a few more tests,” Aiden says grimly. “We’ve been told to wait.”
We? I glare at Aiden. Who does this fucker think he is? And what the hell is he doing here anyway?
“Like I give a shit,” I say. “I need to see my girlfriend.”
“We all want to see her,” Nadia says calmly. “Aiden and I rushed over here as soon as we could after the hospital called and told me Quinn was admitted. Now, please tell me what happened.”
“After hockey practice, I received a text from Daniela. She wrote me that she hated me, she was getting deported, and that she was in Boston. She showed up at our house pounding on the door and demanded to talk to me. Quinn let her in—”
“She let her in?” she asks. “Where the hell were you?”
“I wasn’t home,” I mutter. “Daniela was furious and upset and looking for me. She’s not exactly the most stable person.”
Aiden’s mouth tightens. “Quinn has an open skull fracture because of this woman?”
Fury sizzles up my spine, ripped from my throat in the form of a menacing growl. “Get out of my way.” I hate this little fucker.
“Cash!” Nadia shouts as I sprint toward the short hallway. “She needs her rest…”
The thump of my footsteps drowns out the rest. I burst into Quinn’s room, then skid to a stop when I see the bandages around her head and IVs connected to her tiny arm. She lifts her head at my entrance, and the desolate look in her big green eyes shreds my heart to pieces.
“Mittens,” I say softly. I’m on the bed before she can blink, drawing her into my arms and cocooning her close. She buries her face against my chest, and I can feel her trembling.
“You’re here,” she says against my shirt.
“Yeah, baby, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” A curse slips out when I remember how I found her, blood oozing from her head, her on the floor, semi-conscious.
“Daniela… she’s getting deported. She was so upset. Where is she?” Quinn asks with a quiver in her voice.
“Arrested,” I mutter. Then I take a breath and smooth my hand over her silky hair. “They brought her to the mental
health ward at the hospital for further observation. She’s finally getting the help she’s always needed. I’m sick to my stomach that she hurt you. That I wasn’t there. That this happened because of me.”
“Don’t say that,” Quinn whispers.
“It’s true. She hurt you because of me.”
Quinn rests a hand on my arm. My skin is ice cold. She gives me a soft, comforting stroke.
“Cash…you showed up and protected me.” Her voice cracks. “She called me a home-wrecking whore.”
Fury slams into me like a cross-check to the chest. It takes every ounce of strength to push it away, to banish it from my body.
“You are not a home-wrecking whore.” I take another breath. “There would have to be a home to wreck for that to be true. Do you hear me, Mittens? You are not that. Ever. She was like a sister to me and nothing more. Now she means nothing to me at all.”
“She hates me,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to practice. I should have known Daniela was not okay…” My voice is low, rippling with anxiety. “I’m just so thankful I came back home when I did. If I hadn’t…” I can’t even finish my sentence.
My eyes sting with the threat of unshed tears. I kiss Quinn’s lips and then her cheek, forehead, and the back of her hand. Oh, man, what happened tonight scares me. We’ve come so far—Quinn and I—as a couple. Through all the ups and downs and pain and tears and anger, there are so many things I wish I could have done differently. Things that make me wish I knew then what I know now. I wish my past didn't have to hurt everybody.
“I’m going to be okay,” she says. “Because of you. You came home.”
“Quinn…” I swallow. “Mittens, look at me.”
She slowly raises her eyes to mine.
“Daniela is not going to get away with this. I won’t let her. I’m here to protect you. You didn’t do a goddamn thing to deserve her verbal and physical attack, you got it?”
“I love you.” She blinks rapidly, fighting back tears. “God. When you were holding me before I blacked out, I thought…” She swallows, unable to finish her sentence.
My palms grow damp. I don’t want her to continue. I’m too terrified of what she’s going to say. “Quinn don’t even. You’re safe.”
“I am now.” Quinn slowly runs one hand over my cheek, and her fingertips scrape the bristles of stubble on my jaw.
The tension in my chest lightens, replaced by a strange rush of warmth I couldn’t explain if I tried. I release her only so I can peel back the sheets and crawl in beside her. Without a word, she shifts over so there’s room for me. I slide in behind her, curling one arm around her slender body and drawing her closer. She makes a contented noise and snuggles her ass to my groin, her back to my chest. Her hair tickles my chin. I lay there listening to the sound of her soft breathing and the steady beating of her heart beneath my palm.
Time passes, and I lose track of how long I’ve been holding her.
A doctor walks in holding a clipboard. I sit up at the edge of the bed and slide over as the doctor approaches Quinn. A nurse with curly blonde hair walks over to Quinn’s bedside and switches out the bag attached to her IV.
“You must be Cash Brooks.” The doctor shakes my hand. He’s tall and lean with thick black hair. “I’m Dr. George. Hello, Quinn.” He offers her a friendly smile.
Her face pales. “Did the results from my MRI come back okay?”
He rubs a hand over his jaw, scratching the dark stubble there. “You’ve suffered a linear skull fracture. Luckily, you don’t have any bone displacement. There is a small fracture in your cranial bone resembling a thin line.”
She turns to me with sad green eyes
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask.
“The fracture could take three to six months to heal completely. We’ll book Quinn for a follow-up MRI in a few months to make sure everything is progressing properly.”
I reach over the bedside to squeeze her hand. It’s cold. Trembling. She’s scared. I don’t want her to be scared. Everything is going to be okay. She will be okay. I will protect and take care of her. I stare at the wall across from me. I start to go numb.
The nurse adjusts her pillow. “Your other guests have been patiently waiting in the lobby to see you. Did you want any more visitors tonight?”
Quinn nods. “Yes, please.”
“You will be able to go home in a few days,” Dr. George says, and then looks over at me. “Do you two live together?”
“Yes, she’s my girlfriend. We live together,” I assure him.
“She will need a lot of rest. Not strenuous activities for the next few months.”
“She will be well taken care of.” I toss a grin in Dr. George’s direction. “Am I able to spend the night here?”
Dr. George smiles. “Yes, Mr. Brooks. Of course.”
Once Dr. George leaves the room, I capture Quinn’s chin in my hand, tip her head back and press my mouth to hers.
The kiss I give her is soft and sweet. I’m not leaving this hospital room until she’s healed and with me. She needs reassurance right now and she needs to feel safe.
___________
The next day Quinn’s still a bit nauseous and drowsy. Aiden and Nadia haven’t been to visit today, but Lyndsey had a FaceTime visit with Quinn a few hours ago. I haven’t left Quinn’s side since last night. She’s sleeping now, and I’m flipping through a Hockey Time magazine for the hundredth time. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, but I hate the idea of leaving her, even for a minute.
“Cash.” Hilton’s voice startles me, breaking the silence.
I texted him yesterday to tell him that Quinn was in the hospital and brief him on what happened. He never responded. And now here her father is, standing in the doorway.
“You came,” I reply, unable to look at him. It’s all my fault his daughter suffered a skull fracture. I’m the one person who was supposed to protect her, and I failed miserably.
“Tell me she’s okay,” he says, voice strained.
“She’s still a little disoriented and shaken up, but the doctor says she’ll be discharged tomorrow.”
Hilton leans forward and grips me in a tight hug. I stiffen at his warm embrace. This is new. It takes me a second to reciprocate the gesture.
“Thank you for contacting me,” he says. “I know things between us haven’t been great, and my relationship with Quinn has been strained lately. I’ve been really hard on you, Brooks. I know you love her, and I know you feel guilty for what happened, but I promise you, you didn’t let me down as her father. You saved her. And I know I’ve made you feel like you weren’t good enough for my daughter, and I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. You’re a good man, and you’re perfect for her.”
I don’t even know how to respond. I’m in shock. I’ve been riddled with so much guilt over what happened. I never thought of what I did as saving Quinn.
He pats me on the shoulder as tears trickle down his face. Then he walks over to Quinn’s bedside, he picks up her hand, and sits down in the empty chair. He runs a hand over his face to wipe away his tears. He kisses the top of her hand, and Quinn’s eyes flutter open.
“Dad?” Her voice breaks the silence and the pounding in my head. Her hair is a tangled mess, and her sleepy face is perfect. “What are you doing here?”
“I came as soon as I could.” Hilton’s voice is hoarse. I can hear the pain laced in his words. “Cash contacted me late last night. I took the first flight I could get to Boston. I’m so thankful you’re okay. I love you. You’re my little girl. I’m so sorry we’ve been at odds lately. You’re with a good man, Quinn.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “It’s okay, Dad. I love you too”
She sniffles and Hilton gathers her close. He runs a hand through her matted hair, pulling her tight against him. He glances at me with an appreciative smile.
For once in my life, I know without a doubt everything will be okay.
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Chapter 24
Quinn
My boots crunch against the soft blanket of snow covering the ground as I walk across the Harvard campus. I just finished an exam, and I’m pretty confident I aced it. I’ve come a long way since what Cash and I now refer to as “the incident”. My head’s healed, my strength is back, and Cash has been my rock through everything.
After Daniela’s arrest, I decided not to press charges. Instead, I asked that she be professionally treated for her grief and any other mental health issues she may have developed. She was sent back by U.S. immigration to Thompson, Newfoundland where she spent a few months in the mental health ward and continues to attend therapy. Once she was released, Anna and Jake, Cash’s long-time friends ended up taking her in. Cash still tries to keep in contact with Daniela, calling her every few weeks to make sure she is doing well. Recently she told Cash she started teaching dance classes again. I was happy to hear things were looking up for her. I do wish the best for Daniela.
I wrap my scarf around my neck and flip up the hood on my jacket to try and keep warm. It’s cold even for December in Boston. I make it onto the T and grab a seat near the door. I can’t wait to get home.
Cash is on the road with the Boston Hackers. He’s killing it in the pros. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. We FaceTime every night, and I watch his games on TV, but it’s not the same as having him here with me. We’ve texted a few times today, just brief exchanges of “how ya doing” and “I miss you” and not much else. He’s being oddly elusive, but he’s probably really tired from all the traveling. I’m dying to see him. Hold him. Kiss him. Make love to him. I’m picking him up at the airport in a few hours.
It’s pretty dark when I step out of the subway station. We live in the Jamaican Plan neighborhood where the housing stock is a mix of grand, old Victorians, triple-deckers and single family homes. The sprawling green space characterizes the historic area and the Jamaica Pond is a focal point for locals. It is perfect for jogging and of course, dog walking Bexley.