Wynter's Horizon

by Dee C. May

  “No, just more work.” I thought about my date. I had been debating telling Beck the entire ride up. “Oh, hey, yeah, I went out on a date last night.”

  Quinn whipped his head around. “You did?” He exchanged a look with Beck, who immediately opened the liquor cabinet.

  “What’s that look for?” I asked, annoyed. So far, this visit was not going as I had planned.

  “I’m thinking of where to put the bottle of scotch Quinn owes me.” He answered calmly, shutting the cabinet.

  Quinn grunted a response as he opened the door to the basement. He motioned to Beck’s phone buzzing on the counter. “Hey, Reginald, Fiona’s calling.”

  Beck’s eyes flashed and his face clouded. Striding to the counter, he grabbed it, glanced at it quickly, and silenced it. “You ass.”

  It wasn’t often I got info on their lives. I took the bait. “Who’s Fiona?”

  “Nobody.” I didn’t let it go. Maybe there was a reason he didn’t like me. I needed to know before I spilled my guts. I stared at his back and the way his hair almost curled over the edge of his collar.

  “Well, she must be somebody,” I pushed.

  “She’s a friend. That’s all. He’s just trying to be a jerk. We had a bet earlier, and he lost, and now he wants to be an ass to get back at me.” He emphasized the last words, tossing his head in the direction of the open basement door. He obviously wanted Quinn to hear.

  “Okay. Is she just a friend or a friend with benefits?” I could hear Quinn’s laughter from downstairs, which gave me my answer, but I stared at Beck, waiting.

  He squirmed and ruffled some papers on the table. “Yes. She’s an old friend and, sometimes, more.” He struggled over the last word, almost choking it out.

  “Do you love her?” My heart went nuts. I usually wasn’t so nosy, but I had to know. Maybe he was in love with her and, for some unknown reason, couldn’t be with her.

  “Yes, but as more of a … sister. She lives in London.”

  “Oh. That’s kind of disturbing.” I hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.

  Quinn laughed louder. “She’s got a point, Reggie.”

  Beck reached out and, in one quick motion, despite the basement door being halfway across the room, slammed it shut. It was not a move a normal human could make, and I jumped. He usually didn’t do that stuff in front of me.

  He turned and faced me, his expression hard to read, his tone clipped. “Listen, she’s a friend. I don’t think of her as a sister. It was the wrong words. She’s someone who’s shared a lot of my life with me. She knows what it’s like to be an outcast and to be wanted for something you can’t control.”

  He raked his hand through his hair, and I wondered how I could even compare. He was sleeping with someone like himself, I realized. She could probably do things in bed I couldn’t imagine. This explained all those trips to London. So much for the future I kept imagining for us—and the conversation I’d planned in my head for three hours. I felt the air drain out of me.

  He tilted his head, looking at me. “What?”

  “Should I go?” I felt self-conscious and inadequate. He studied me, and then his face softened. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand gently around my wrist. I just stared at his fingers.

  “Don’t go. I didn’t mean to be short with you. It’s just … love and I … well, they don’t go well together. I told you that before. For a long time I didn’t even think I could feel. Do you want to go for a run while I wrap things up here, and then we can go downtown for dinner and a movie?” I swallowed, feeling like there was so much more to say, but I wasn’t sure what. Something had set him off, but, whatever it was, he hadn’t let me in.

  “Okay. Are you going to kill Quinn while I’m gone?”

  He smiled now, a genuine one that reached his eyes. “Bloody hell, if it was that easy, he would have been gone a long time ago.”

  “I heard that even through the door.” A mock hurt voice floated up the stairs. I smiled and went to get changed for my run.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Beck—Sara

  I watched her retreating back, legs long and lean sticking out from her shorts, pouring into her running shoes. She always started out slowly, but I could see her pick up her pace as she rounded the bend and flew out of sight at the top of the drive. I tried to distract myself by collecting all the half-filled glasses and remnants of a week’s worth of life. I heard Quinn’s steps before the door opened. I didn’t turn around as I gathered up the last of my documents to clean off the table.

  “You know, I could care less if you yell at me. But why did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Take it out on her? She has no idea what’s going on.”

  I sighed. He was right, which was annoying on so many levels. “I hate the fact that she went out with that guy.”

  “Oh, I know you do. The jealousy emanates from you almost as much as the sexual frustration. I don’t get it. You don’t want her going out with other guys, but you don’t want to tell her you love her. You’re putting her in some double bind, and she doesn’t even know it.”

  “Well, that’s just what I have to deal with.”

  “And the rest of us, apparently. You’re unbelievable. Your ability for self-denial is almost a religious art. Fuck! Cut yourself some slack. It’s all right to be in love.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m not doing this to her.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that she wants you to do it to her—in all interpretations of the word it?”

  I was silent, trying hard not to let my imagination run away with me. I took a deep breath. “Even if that’s true—and that’s a big if—that doesn’t make it right.”

  “I don’t know. It feels right to me, and I’m not even the one in love with her. She loves you.” He paused. “She is in love with you, and you are in love with her. Anyone can see that.”

  “You don’t have to speak slowly. I’m not an idiot.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  Wynter pushed open the door, her face red and glistening, her chest heaving with exertion. “What’s debatable?”

  “Beck’s IQ.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t press for more, just sat on the floor and stretched. It was amazing to see her there. A year ago, I was staring at her across a bar.

  “You still want to do dinner and a movie?” I asked, trying to distract myself from her legs.

  “Sure, but we can skip dinner and go straight to the movies.” She lay down and crossed her leg over her side, arching her back—unfair and torturous.

  “Don’t you want dinner?” I asked. I could see Quinn smirking behind her, pretending to read a magazine.

  “Popcorn’s fine. Unless you guys want it.” She finally stood up.

  “Oh, I think Beck wants it,” Quinn added. I gave him the finger.

  “What do you want to see?”

  “What’s playing at that retro theater?” Wynter asked.

  “If it’s Legends of the Fall, we’re not going.” Quinn interjected.

  “Why not?” Wynter demanded.

  “We’ve already seen it, and I don’t know why you like that guy.”

  “Brad Pitt? The one with the hair, smile, and hot way of getting on a horse?”

  “It’s just hair. I have it, too.”

  “Not like that you don’t. Besides, it’s a great love story.” She gave me a knowing look. “It ends unhappily.”

  “Well, if I looked like that with that hair, would you be jumping my bones?” Quinn just couldn’t leave it alone.

  “Maybe. But we’ll never know.” She smiled innocently back at him, fluttering her eyes in the process.

  “Don’t tempt me.” He grinned even wider. My jealousy flared. Quinn had an easy way of interacting with Wynter. I wished for that ability to banter. I had never had it.

  “Okay. So, what do you want to see?” She stood and gathered her bag.

  “Anything but that,” Quinn said.

  Wy
nter climbed the stairs, peeling off her sweatshirt as she went. I could see her shirt bunch up under it, exposing her bare back. “Fine. I’ll be down after my shower,” she called. I felt like moaning. I turned toward the kitchen to get a drink and caught Quinn smirking at me.

  “What?” I pretended not to be bothered.

  “Just tell her.”

  “Forget it.”

  “You’re nuts. Wait. What did she mean by a great love story?”

  “Oh, besides the teenage movie thing, she has a theory all great love stories end unhappily.”

  “Good God, she’s twisted, too. You guys should just do it and get it over with.”

  “Sod off.”

  ***

  We went to see some science fiction movie instead. I didn’t really pay attention. During most movies, I spent the time watching her, the way she ate her popcorn, how she drank her soda, the fact her hair never stayed behind her ear, the curve of her jaw as it melted into her neck and collarbones.

  It was a nice night, unseasonably warm for the fall. In the Jeep driving home, she convinced me to take the top down, hanging her head out the side and letting the wind blow her hair back.

  “If you like that, Wyn, you should try standing up,” Quinn said. We had, by this time, pulled down the dirt road leading to the driveway.

  “Really?” She jumped up on the passenger seat. I could see Quinn reach out a hand to steady her, but she didn’t need his help.

  “Totally. And then ask Beck to go really fast.”

  “Quinn.” I hoped by the tone of my voice he could tell I wanted him to stop. She didn’t heal like us. She couldn’t afford to take the stupid chances we did.

  “Oh, be quiet, Buffy.” I shot Quinn the nastiest look I could. He moved behind her and the passenger seat, which I supposed was to make me feel better.

  Wynter wrapped her hands around the roll bar, braced her feet on the seat, and looked down at me grinning. “Go fast.” I could hear her heart starting to gallop.

  “Wynter.”

  “I’m okay. Really. Go fast,” she assured me, smiling and widening her eyes.

  “I’ve got her, Beck,” Quinn added. Against my better judgment, I pushed the pedal hard, and the stones from the driveway spun under the tires. The Jeep leapt forward as Wynter yelled, her body sagging back against the seat. I slowed down.

  “Do it again,” she called, breathless. I could see her tighten her hands on the roll bar and move her feet further apart. I hesitated a second and then floored it. She was more prepared this time. Quinn moved his arms to either side of her in case she lost her balance, but she didn’t. We raced down the drive. Wynter screamed and laughed, throwing her head back to watch the sky. Her hair fanned out, the wind lifting it and giving it a life all its own.

  I turned the Jeep around at the bottom of the driveway, fishtailing through the grass, and raced back up. Over the roar of the engine, I could hear Quinn singing some Gaelic song at the top of his lungs and Wynter still laughing and screaming. I hoped to God the residents of the few houses left on the block were either asleep or out, but I wouldn’t have stopped for anything.

  We finally headed all the way home. Quinn and Wynter tumbled out of the Jeep, still laughing and now arguing about how strong we really were. Quinn challenged Wynter to come up with something he couldn’t do. We were in mid-sentence when the scent hit us both. Quinn, who had been holding Wynter above his head with one hand, dropped her down to the ground gently but swiftly.

  “Oh, fuck.” She materialized out of the darkness on the side of the garage, staring at Quinn, her eyes flashing with anger even in the dark. I felt my stomach lurch with anxiety. Wynter got up, dusting herself off.

  “Nice going, strong arms,” Wynter threw at Quinn. He didn’t acknowledge, never breaking his gaze from Sara’s.

  She moved forward, extending her hand. “Hi. I’m Wynter.”

  Sara stared at her like she was a leper. I felt the instinctive urge to step in front of Wynter.

  “Is this what you’ve been doing these past months?” Sara nearly shrieked.

  Wynter stepped back beside me, and it was only then I realized how fast she was breathing and the rapid beat of her heart. She was scared but attempting to hide it. I felt a surge of admiration for her, which was quickly smashed as Sara turned her attention toward me. “How could you?” Her voice was full of shock and horror. I didn’t blame her.

  “You of all of us? After everything we’ve been through, this is what you do? Put us all in danger?” I cleared my throat, fumbling for words. “Well—”

  She stepped toward me, and I saw Quinn reach for her. “Let it go, Sara.”

  She rounded on him. “Let it go? I came here because I have bad news, and I didn’t want to say it over the phone. I thought we should talk face to face. Now, I get here and find the two of you playing what? House? With some university bimbo?”

  “Those two words don’t go together.” Quinn offered. Sara looked like she might rip his head off.

  “What’s the news?” I asked, my stomach doing a roll and remembering Fiona’s call. Sara pointed at both of us,

  “I’m not discussing this outside.” And she turned on her heel and marched to the house. Only Sara could do it and look elegant with her diminutive height and frame.

  We followed wordlessly, though I could see Quinn grinning at her departing silhouette. “She’s so sexy when she’s mad.” He leaned over, whispering. Sara whipped her head around, pinning him with a withering look. “Just complementing you, luv,” he called to her.

  “You’re an ass,” she muttered.

  “It’s why she loves me,” Quinn explained loudly to no one.

  Sara opened the front door, breaking the lock clear off the frame. Damn, she was mad. I was vaguely aware of Wynter beside me.

  Quinn, who didn’t seem bothered by it at all, leaned over me to catch Wynter’s eyes. “She doesn’t play nice with strangers, but she’ll warm up.”

  Wynter didn’t respond. She just smiled weakly. I knew she probably needed some support from me, but my own shock had set in. Sara’s arrival only emphasized the fairy tale I’d been living. I paused outside the door, letting Quinn go in and get Sara settled.

  “Wynter…” I grabbed her arm as she went to step through the door.

  “What?” Her tone was clipped, her eyes guarded, and I wondered what she was thinking. I dropped my voice a level.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What do you think?” She hissed back in a whisper.

  “Do you want to leave?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Do you want me to?”

  “No … No! I just have to deal with this.” I pointed toward the open door, not sure what to do. Sara would be staying, perhaps for weeks.

  “Are you worried about her?” She jabbed a finger in the air. I wondered how much Sara and Quinn were listening to our conversation.

  “No. It’s just that Sara’s really protective, like a mother hen.” I grimaced. Sara as a nurturer was a strange image. Damn, I couldn’t find the right words. “…And … well, she’s wary of strangers. Normal people.” Of course, so was I a few months ago, I thought silently. “I don’t know how she’ll be.”

  She stared at me for a second. “I’ll just go.”

  “No, I don’t want you to drive by yourself at night.” Even as I heard the words, I cringed. I should have been convincing her to stay. But I was lost to find the two areas of my life colliding.

  “Okay. I’ll stay and leave in the morning.” I wanted to stop her, but I couldn’t. Sara’s being here screwed everything.

  Wynter turned abruptly and marched through the door and quickly up the stairs. I watched her go as Quinn appeared beside me. I could feel his disapproval.

  “What?” I asked sharply. I knew I hadn’t handled the situation well, or at all.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Sara emerged from the kitchen, a can of soda in her hand. Her temper seemed to have dissipated
. She gulped down her Coke and stared at me, expectantly.

  “Wynter went upstairs. What happened?” I tried to dispense with the small talk.

  “Wynter? Her name is Wynter? How stupid can Americans get?”

  “Drop it, Sara.” I nearly growled.

  “Fine. Katherine and Nat were jumped last night.”

  The air left my lungs. Damn it! That explained Fiona’s call. If I had returned it, I would have known Sara was on her way. “Where?”

  “In London. They were walking back from a play. Whoever they were, they were expecting Katherine alone and were a bit surprised to find both, at least that’s what Nat and Katherine think. Some random cops were in the neighborhood and heard the whole thing. They jumped into the fight, thinking it was a robbery, and scared them off.”

  “Are they okay?” Quinn asked.

  “Just some bruises and stuff. Nothing serious. Katherine said they were well trained—and vicious. She thinks military, or ex-military.”

  “Fuck.” I moved around the room, trying to shake off the feeling of desperation.

  “Yes, we had better be careful and watch our backs. Anything going on here?”

  I thought of the merc at the casino. Quinn had been monitoring him for weeks. Just recently, he had disappeared without a trace. Quinn raised an eyebrow at me, most likely thinking the same thing, then looked at Sara.

  “No. Nothing here,” he lied. She would have gone ballistic to find out we hadn’t done anything more proactive.

  “Well, would you know, being so occupied entertaining Alice in Wonderland?” She sneered. Sara didn’t like anyone who caught Quinn’s attention. It had taken her years to even tolerate Katherine and Fiona. How Quinn had made it through her defenses was nothing short of a miracle.

  Quinn, who was never one to indulge her snits and took more pleasure in needling her than coddling her, shook his head. “Sara, Wynter is nothing like Alice.” It was all the provocation needed to push Sara over the edge she had been teetering on since emerging from the woods. She swung out at Quinn full force. He caught her hand in his before it connected with his face, pushing her back. I stayed out of it, watching the two of them spar. Despite the difference in size, Sara was stronger than Quinn, and he knew it.