Tin

by K. S. Thomas

  Riker’s not smiling anymore. His expression is moving back and forth somewhere between sadness and anger, and his voice is a new kind of low when he asks, “Like Harley did for you?”

  It’s not really a question. We both already know the answer is yes.

  “He saved my life that day. Not just because he went after the man who was attacking me, but because he gave me the courage to fight back. He gave me something, someone, to fight for. Because I couldn’t do it for myself.” I move my plate out of my lap and stack it on top of his on the counter. Now that I’ve heard myself say it all out loud, I’m wondering if it’s kind of silly. Maybe the whole thing is a stupid idea and I just want it to be more so Harley’s sacrifice counts for more. I don’t know.

  “Hey.” Riker’s hand slips under my chin, gently directing me to face him again. “You’re amazing. You know that?”

  I start to roll my eyes, but he catches me and shoots me a threatening glare. “Take a compliment, Quinn. Especially one that comes from me. I don’t hand that shit out to just anyone,” he growls softly.

  “I just don’t feel all that amazing.” I pull my knees up to my chest, resting my cheek on them. “But I think I might if I saw myself through your eyes,” I whisper. Because the way he looks at me, sometimes I think he’s face to face with something utterly remarkable. Like maybe he’s remembering something spectacular he saw once upon a time. Until I look again, and I notice how his eyes are locked directly on mine and I feel how they pull me in and pry me open, and I realize I’m the spectacular thing he’s seeing.

  “Come here.” He takes my hands and helps me down from the counter. Then, without letting go, he leads the way out of the kitchen and through the small studio until we’re both standing in the bathroom facing the mirror. He’s behind me, his arms wrapped around my chest, his hands folded right in the center of it.

  “See this, right here?” He’s putting pressure on my skin, right below my collar bone. “The first time I saw you interacting with Nox, I knew whatever was under here was exceptional, that you were special, because Nox doesn’t stand for ordinary. Then, I watched you with your niece, and even though you were nervous and visibly uncomfortable trying to manage all those kids, you put your own feelings aside and focused only on hers. And I knew you were selfless.” He lowers his head down to mine, touching my cheek with his and brushing my skin with his soft stubble, and still staring straight ahead at the mirror watching our reflections. “Then I met Harley. And I saw how you view him. Not as broken. Or damaged. Or less. You look at Harley and you don’t see what he lacks physically. You see his strength and his courage. His unwavering fight for life. He’s your hero. You look at him and you see more dog than you’ll ever see looking at one with all of his limbs perfectly intact. And because you see him that way, you make other people see it, too.”

  His words are making tears sting my eyes. I’m not even sure why. Because most of the things he just listed, while important to me, should mean nothing to him or anyone else. And yet they do. Mean something.

  Riker’s hands move down to my waist and he brings me around to face him again. “I saw the way you looked at Harley, and I knew you were different. And that’s just what I knew after one day with you. I knew you could see light where others see nothing but darkness. Only you can’t seem to see it in yourself. It’s a gift you only give to others.” He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes as he continues, “You know what the irony is, Quinn? Hearing you say you wish you could see yourself through my eyes, when all this time, all I’ve wanted was to be the man you see through yours.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Riker

  I’m lying with my head in her lap staring blankly at the ceiling. I don’t see the water damage from where the washer was leaking in the laundry room directly above the bed. I don’t notice the cobwebs in the corner over my recliner where I never bother to reach up and dust. I can’t even tell that the fan blades, which are currently still, are entirely covered in a thick layer of dust, and now thanks to Harley’s frequent visits, dog hair.

  I know they are. Same as I know about the cobwebs and water damage. Because I’ve spent countless hours lying here without her, staring up at those very things, unable to see anything else and unwilling to pick my ass up and do anything about it.

  Tonight is different. Tonight, no matter where I direct my attention it keeps coming back to her. I’m completely devoid of the ability to focus on anything outside of her. She consumes me, like a riddle I am desperate to solve but no matter how I approach it, I just can’t. And for every clue I unveil along the way to cracking her code, I find myself only more and more confused. Somehow figuring her out was easiest when I knew nothing about her. Now, the more I know, the more I discover how much I don’t know. And it’s driving me out of my fucking mind. Not because she isn’t entitled to her secrets. We all are. But because I have a feeling not knowing hers will wind up costing me what I want. What I’m starting to need. Her.

  She’s ruined me. She’s destroyed the man who didn’t give two shits about his life and left behind a pile of rubble determined to rebuild itself into something better, more worthy than what I’ve been these last few years.

  Her hand is gently stroking my hair as she tips her head to smile down at me. “Comfortable?” Her smile turns almost childlike as she reveals her silly side by stealing the covers and leaving my naked ass bare on the cold hardwood floor. We’d started on the bed. We just hadn’t finished there.

  “Hey! It’s cold over here. I’m not the one with a human heater lying in my lap.”

  She giggles. “Oh, so you’re a hot head. That’s good to know.” But she returns the blanket and covers the both of us again.

  “Only when dealing with assholes. Never with you.” I’m not necessarily looking to turn this into some sort of a moment, but I need her to know it. To believe it without a doubt. Because her trust in me depends on it. And moving forward with her will be impossible without that trust.

  She bends down to kiss me, gradually deepening the kiss as I open up and let her in. My hand moves up around the back of her head, my fingers roaming through her thick, wild hair. I’m still twirling a long strand of it when she pulls back.

  “Quinn?”

  “Yes, Riker.” She’s smirking because she knows how much I like it when she says my name. I’m tempted to tug at the hair still in my hand to bring her back down where I can kiss that sweet mouth all over again. But I don’t.

  “Remember the first night you came over?”

  She scrunches her eyes together. “Vaguely.”

  She’s a brat. “Yeah, same here.” I yank at her hair. Not hard, just enough to remind her I’m not the only one with vulnerabilities between us.

  “Ow! Fine! I remember. You were a stud and a half and delivered five happy endings before I went running back home, delirious and exhausted. What’s your point?”

  Between the way her lips move when she speaks and the words stud and happy endings still ringing in my ears, I almost forget I have one.

  “You said you’d never fall for another loser who didn’t have his shit together,” I spit out the words before I fully remember why I’m bringing them up again.

  Her brow curves and I can tell she’s not sure why either. “Actually, I said that the second time I came over. But what’s your point?”

  I laugh. “Sorry, that whole first week sort of blurs together for me now, what with all the lack of sleep I was experiencing.” I pause, trying to focus on my original topic again, “Anyway, I’ve just been wondering what you meant by that. I mean, I know my place is kind of a shithole compared to the house you live in. And my truck is about three decades older than anything sitting in your sister’s garage.” I have a whole list I’ve been making for a while now, but she’s shaking her head at me and I’m pretty sure she’s fighting the urge to smack me, so I stop talking.

  “You’re a dumbass.” Yeah. She was definitely thinking about slapping me. Even i
f it was just to startle some brain cells back into action. ““Having your shit together has nothing to do with money or the amount of fancy crap you own. It’s knowing the difference between having a bed to sleep in and a home to come to. The difference between taking care of yourself and eating ramen noodles for dinner every night of the week. And the difference between having a random job to get you by and doing what you love and want to be doing for the rest of your life, or at least, working toward doing that. If having your shit together had anything to do with money, I couldn’t claim to have my shit together. Which, clearly, I do.” Her hand drops to her chest, indicating herself.

  Between the gesture and her haughty expression I can’t help but laugh again. “No, you don’t.”

  “Um, I resent that. I totally do.” But the underlying sarcasm in her voice suggests otherwise.

  “You live with your sister. You eat left over shit out of my fridge and on occasion you’ve even nuked a cup of ramen noodles. The only one I’ll give you is the job one. No one can argue the fact that you’re pursuing something you’re passionate about.”

  Her index finger shoots straight into the air like she’s about to make her argument, and I can’t wait to hear what it is.

  “Excuse me, but I said nothing about actually doing one over the other. I simply stated one would know the difference between the two. Which I do. And, someday, when I get bored with the amazing sex I have over here, I can move out of my sister’s conveniently located abode to one farther away, and then I’ll stop being able to run over here on a daily basis to eat your shitty food.”

  I lift myself up out of her lap and prop myself up onto my side. “So that’s why you come here. Just the sex.”

  Her eyes flit back and forth as the corners of her mouth twitch playfully. “I believe I said ‘amazing’.”

  “Hm. And here I was starting to think it was my shitty food.” My hand slips up behind her neck to bring her to me. Not that I need to. She’s moving toward me all on her own. I’m about to pick her up and put her back in the bed so I can do all the things that make her forget the shitty food I feed her when there’s a knock on the door.

  “What the hell was that?” Quinn’s face is both confused and frustrated and I’m pretty sure mine is a mirror image.

  I’m about to answer when the knocker repeats the offense and does it again. “Riker? Get your lazy ass out of bed and open the door. It’s cold out here.”

  It’s Sid.

  And I’m not the only one who recognizes her voice. “What is Sidney doing here at ten o’clock at night?” Quinn hisses, definitely unimpressed with our late night visitor. And I don’t think it’s only due to interrupting what we were doing. Or, about to do anyway.

  “I need you to do me a favor and go wait in the bathroom while I get rid of her.” Even as I hear myself say the words I know how horrible they sound. “Please. I promise I’ll explain as soon as she leaves.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” But she’s already up on her feet so I’m hoping she’s just letting me know how pissed she is while doing what she’s pissed about.

  “I’m sorry. I swear to you I’ll answer every question in a minute.” I reach for the closest pair of sweats and start to pull them on while she huffs her way to the bathroom. Then, as soon as I hear the door shut behind her, I go to let in Sid.

  ***

  Quinn

  I didn’t have time to grab any clothes on my way in here. Something I’m now annoyingly aware of as I’m standing naked in front of the mirror. The same mirror I was so enamored with a couple of hours ago when Riker and I were both reflected in it. Now I kinda hate it. I hate it even more when I see my face. It’s ugly, painted with disgusting feelings like shame and jealousy and I have half a mind to bust out of here buck ass naked to confront Riker and Sidney. But then I’ll have to add humiliation to the list of ugliness and I’m all tapped out already.

  Since causing a massive scene is out of the question, I opt for the next most appeasing thing and eavesdrop by pressing the side of my head to the door as tight as I can.

  “What the hell happened in here, Riker? It looks like a fucking bomb went off. You’ve got half your bedding on the floor. There are clothes everywhere. Why don’t you use some of the money you’re not spending on car payments or rent and hire a maid? You could definitely use one.” She sounds like she’s trying to make a joke while still being completely serious. I’m familiar with the tactic. Kirsten uses it on me all the time. Like the humorous delivery somehow makes the condescending message less offensive. It doesn’t.

  “I can manage doing a load of laundry without hiring someone.” I can hear him moving around. Probably picking up the scattered clothes before she notices they’re mine. I don’t get it. I don’t think they’re together. After everything that’s happened in the last couple of days, I can’t imagine he would have lied to me about that. Besides, when would he have time to see her? I’m here every night.

  “Sometimes I wonder. You do wear that same damn flannel shirt almost every day.” She giggles at her own comment and I’m pretty damn sure this is her attempt at flirting.

  “I bought a packet of five. They’re different shirts. They just look the same.” He exhales loudly. “Can you just get to the point and tell me what you’re doing here so late? Because I seriously doubt it was to hassle me about my lack of housekeeping skills.” I’m oddly satisfied by how annoyed he sounds right now. Even if she’s into him, he’s not feeling it. Although that still doesn’t explain why I was shunned to the bathroom like his dirty little secret. Especially given how unconcerned he seemed earlier at the ranch when he was kissing me goodbye for the entire world to see. Of course, Sidney had been in the barn for the whole thing and no one else had been around.

  “Honestly? I couldn’t sleep. The whole thing with Nox today. I don’t know. It just got to me. I don’t know what I would have done if we had lost him.” Toward the end, her words are muffled and I know there’s only one reason they would be. He’s holding her. Right there. Outside this door. And I hate him for it. And then I hate myself for hating him for it. Because he’s a good man. And she’s hurting. And of course he would console her. He would do whatever he could to make the pain go away. I know that. Without a doubt. Because that’s precisely what he did for me.

  “He’s going to be fine, Sid. I’m not going to let anything happen to him. You know that. Same as I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” I can hear something that sounds unsettlingly similar to a kiss. “I’m here for you. You know that.”

  “Yeah, well. Next time don’t take so long answering the damn door. It makes a girl wonder,” she grumbles, but it’s not muffled anymore so I’m going to assume she’s no longer in his arms.

  “Won’t happen again. I’m sorry.” He chuckles, that deep quiet chuckle. The one I stupidly thought belonged to me. Why the hell I thought that I don’t know. I guess because until now we’ve existed in this tiny bubble where I never heard him interact with anyone else. Of course he would chuckle around other people. Other women. Women he was promising to look after for all eternity. Why was that making me want to claw my way out of my own skin?

  “Okay. I think I’m good now.” I hear footsteps, hopefully headed for the door.

  “You sure? You could stay a while if you wanted.” Like hell she could. How fucking long does he plan on keeping me stashed in here?

  Thankfully, she’s ready to leave. “I’m good. Really. I just needed something to snap me out of the funk. So thank you.” The door opens. Then it closes. And I come flying out of the bathroom like a bat out of hell riding a broomstick.

  “Quinn.” His hand draws out to catch me.

  “Get off of me.” I shrug out of his grip. “I have to go.”

  He steps into my path but doesn’t touch me again. “Just let me explain.” He hands me one of his stupid flannel shirts and I slip it on.

  “Fine. Explain. But I’m telling you right now, chances are good I won�
��t give a shit. I don’t much care for being trapped and locked away out of sight.”

  He squints at me for a second longer than I’d like and I’m sure I emphasized the word trapped more than I should have.

  “I’m sorry I asked you to wait in the bathroom. I’m even more sorry you felt trapped. I wasn’t trying to confine you...just keep things from getting complicated.”

  I twist the shirt tight around my body. “I don’t know, Riker. Sounds like you and Sidney are already pretty fucking complicated. You obviously care about her. What’s the problem? She won’t get involved with the help? Doesn’t want to deal with your half-assed way of living? Or maybe she just can’t stand wading through the constant pool of self-loathing one has to cross to get to you.” I’m raging at him now. Hurling every hurtful thing that comes to mind in his direction. And I don’t even know if he really deserves it or not.

  “Are you done?” His hands are hanging listless at his sides and his eyes, God, his eyes. They’re so dark and deep I’m certain he’s in there drowning. And I don’t know what to fucking do to save him because I’m going under myself.