by K. S. Thomas
I have no expectation of sleep. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. Well, that’s crazy. Of course, I’ll sleep again. But sleep would be a kindness right now. And I don’t deserve any. There shouldn’t be any relief for me. Not even the temporary kind.
So, I sit there and I force my eyes to focus on the clock, watching the minutes pass me by one at time. No TV, no music and definitely no sleep. Just my own thoughts to occupy me. Many of them I’ve had before. They recycle well. Especially now. Because if I hadn’t done the things I did back then, I wouldn’t have had to do what I did tonight. It’s all connected. One massive chain reaction.
For a while, I allowed myself to believe that the past was really that. The past. Gone. Closed. Removed from my present. Uninvited to my future. I was wrong. But I’m used to that. I’m wrong a lot.
By seven fifty I can hear people moving around upstairs. Part of me is desperate to be found. The other is hoping against all hope that no one will come down those stairs until after I’ve left for California.
Hope keeps me going until ten. Then the door opens and Kirsten’s heels come clicking down the steps.
“Holy shit!” Her eyes are about to pop out of her head. “You scared me! What the hell are you doing here?” She’s already pissed and she hasn’t even heard the story. Wasn’t that long ago she would have assumed Riker was to blame. Then he landed in her good graces and she came to realize I was the solid fuck up she could continue to count on.
“I’m moving back.” I don’t actually believe that she’ll accept such a simple answer, but I try never to overshoot my offers. I’d rather she reject it and I counter, and we continue the negotiations until she has enough of what she needs and I have some of my privacy left, too.
“No, you’re not.” She marches straight for me. “Get your ass up out of that chair and go back. Right now.”
“You don’t understand, Kirsten. I can’t be with him. And staying...even the next two weeks...I can’t do it.” I stand up, but only because I feel like it will help me make a stronger argument.
“Why not? Why can’t you do it? Because he makes you too happy? Makes you feel too loved? Too safe? Too cared for? What is it? Tell me!” She’s gesturing at me furiously and twice she makes a fist I think she might wish she could swing at me.
“Because I feel nothing! That’s why. He feels everything and I feel nothing!” I shout. “I slid out of his arms and crept out of his home in the middle of the night while he was sound asleep and I felt nothing. I was completely numb. Who does that Kirsten? What kind of monster does the things I’m capable of?”
I want her to keep being angry at me. I want her to keep yelling. But her furious demeanor slips away leaving behind a mixture of pity and heartache.
“You’re so stupid,” she whispers. She shakes her head at me, but her hands hang listless at her side. “You don’t go numb from feeling nothing. You go numb from feeling too much.”
I press my lips together tightly, as if that will somehow keep everything sealed inside me. “No. You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not.” She takes a step closer. “You love him, Quinn. And what you’re feeling right now isn’t nothing. It’s heartbreak.”
“I can’t love him, Kirsten,” I hiss out the words, trying with all my might to keep the tears from falling.
She tilts her head, looking up at me with a sad curiosity shining in her glossy eyes. “Why not?”
“Because. If I love him...and he loves me...it will make it that much more unbearable when we can’t be together.” I’ve lost. My own body has defeated me and now threatens to destroy what’s left of me with the ache of a thousand heaving sobs desperate to burst from my chest.
“But why can’t you be together? Did he say something? Did you tell him about Jackson? What happened?” Her arms wrap around me, cradling me like I’m a baby.
“It’s not about my past this time. It’s...about...his,” I blubber through my tears.
“What are you talking about?” She almost sounds scared. I guess I would be too considering some of the conversations she’s had to have with me in the past.
“His marriage. His...kids.” I lift out of her embrace to look at her. “They didn’t get taken from him because he lost it. He lost it...because they were taken.”
The corners of Kirsten’s mouth curve tenderly in a sad state of understanding. “Oh.”
“I saw pictures,” I whisper, slowly gaining control of myself again. “Pictures of him with his kids. He was happy. Really happy.” I turn away, because I can’t face her or anyone else anymore. “How can I stay with him, even two more weeks, when I know I can never make him that happy again?”
Kirsten combs the hair away from my cheek and kisses it. “How can you leave him, even for a day, when leaving means sparing him from learning he can’t have something he never asked for, and denying him the one thing he has? You.”
Then she walks away and I can hear her heels click clack with every step she takes. It’s not until the door closes and I know she’s gone that I collapse on the floor completely.
Chapter Sixteen
Riker
It’s been a week. One whole goddamn week. Every day I tell myself she’ll turn up before the sun does. Then, when she doesn’t, I go to work, convinced I’ll find her here when I get back. I don’t know why I tell myself such bullshit. I’ve never been much for denial in the past. For some reason this time I just can’t get a fucking grip on things. I knew it could happen. Actually, I was pretty damn sure she would bolt as soon as I told her everything. I don’t even know why I knew that, other than she’s a creature of flight who lives in constant fear of being the cause of someone else’s pain.
Ironic, really. Considering how much she’s fucking hurting me by being gone. Only she can’t see that. Or maybe she does. I don’t know. I just know she believes staying will hurt me more than leaving. She’s fucked up in the head that way. Fucked up in the heart. Fucked up to her very core. And if I ever find the bastard who fucked her up, I’ll kill him.
Her flight for California departs in less than five days. I’m guessing Kirsten will show up on day six to collect all of the stuff Quinn couldn’t carry on foot when she left here in the middle of the night. I had half a mind to offer her a ride, but she seemed hell-bent on sneaking out, so eventually, I just faked sleep to make it easier on her.
But it’s been a motherfucking week. And I’m done faking sleep and making shit easier for her. If she wants out, I’m going to make her tell me. To my face. And then I’m going to convince her she’s wrong.
Feeling amped up from the self-motivational rant I gave myself on the way over here, I jump from my truck and slam the door shut. I practically run up to the front door, and I don’t even give a shit if anyone sees me. I’m not here to play games. The whole damn household is welcome to know exactly what I’m here for. Quinn.
Kirsten answers the door. She’s instantly annoyed when she sees me. “What the hell took you so long?”
“What the hell did you let her come back for?” I counter.
She drops the arms holding the door at bay and it swings open. “I tried to send her back. Trust me.” Then she turns and goes back in, leaving me to follow her and close the door.
“Where is she? Downstairs?”
Kirsten shakes her head. “Went for a run. And since you’re here, I’m guessing she’s actually running. For a second there I was hoping maybe it was just code for sex with Riker again.”
Even as she’s using the words sex and my name, I’m scanning the room uncomfortably for her husband and kid. Thankfully, neither seem to be around.
“You don’t mind if I head to the game room and see if I can track her down?” Maybe I can follow her tracks in the sand from there.
“Go for it. But I’m warning you. It won’t be easy. She’s made up her mind. And her jacked up little brain may be broken, but her level of determination is not.” Then she gives me the go ahead nod and I take off down the stairs.
***
Quinn
I’ve listened to the same song seventeen consecutive times now. I don’t know why I won’t take it off repeat. It’s a horrible song. All about falling in love and soul mate bullshit. And yet, here I am, going for eighteen.
I’m just plugging along, keeping my eyes locked on the sand, avoiding any and all eye contact with the other people who are annoyingly out here as well. Then, I notice Harley turn on a dime and start running back the way we came.
“Har –“ I don’t even finish calling his name. He’s not running back to the house. He’s running toward Riker.
I’m tempted to keep going without Harley, but ditching him feels wrong on a level even I can’t fall down to, so I start walking toward them while they make their way over to reach me.
“What are you doing out here?” I sound snotty. I mean to.
“Taking back what’s mine.” He’s got a brazen look in his eyes and I’m scared to ask him what he’s referring to.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay. I shouldn’t have left the way I did...but that doesn’t change that leaving was the right thing to do. For both of us.” I’m avoiding his gaze at all cost until his thumb touches my chin and forces it up.
“Who the hell are you to decide what’s right for me? Huh? I’ve seen the shit-job you do with your own life. Don’t you fucking go around trying to make decisions for mine,” he warns.
“Trust me. If you knew what I know, you’d be thanking me. Not running after me.”
His hand drops from my chin to his side. “Enlighten me then.”
“Fine.” I can’t take it anymore anyway. “You want to know. I’ll fucking tell you.” But not while I’m standing so close to him. If I’m going to get this out, I have to move. And keep moving. And close my eyes, because saying the words out loud is one thing, but facing him and seeing his reaction...and watching how everything he feels for me fades into the ether is something completely different. So, I pace.
“The reason I have to go back to California next week is because I have to be in court.”
“What?” I feel like maybe I should have told him not to interrupt me. I don’t have the strength to climb over hurdles of his shock and disbelief while I do this.
“It’s civil court. This time. My trial starts next week. It’s a wrongful death case and I’m being sued for a few gazillion dollars, which they will likely be awarded considering I was already found guilty in criminal court. Of manslaughter. That’s where I was the last three years. In prison.” I stop. I still can’t face him and my eyes are squeezed shut just in case I catch a glimpse of him walking away. I listen. Straining to hear over the wind and the waves, but I can’t make out even single sound indicating whether or not he’s moved even an inch.
Then, the feel of his hands on either side of my face startle me into lifting my lids in one swift shot.
“I’m listening,” he murmurs, concentrating his gaze on mine, leaving me no way to escape this time.
“Haven’t you heard enough?” I gasp.
“You honestly think you’ve said anything that makes me want to turn away from you? What, you think I can’t fill in the blanks on this one? Think I don’t know you well enough to know you’re not a murderer?” His tone hardens when he says the word. I don’t think he’s mad at me. Well, he is. Mad at me for implying that I am one. Or that I thought he would believe I was one. Not mad that I am one. Which I am. No matter how we twist and turn the words. I killed a man.
“You can’t fix this,” I whisper. “I know you want to. I know you think you can just come to my rescue and hold me until I stop screaming, but it won’t work this time. My moments of peace with you were fleeting. And I knew it all along. I tried to tell you.” I force myself to stop before I say anymore and start weeping into his chest.
“What’s a gazillion dollars? Really. What’s the real number?”
My eyes slant. Damn him. “Why?”
“I’ll pay it. If your biggest fucking problem here is paying off the assholes who unleashed the beast who beat you, then yes, I can fix it. And your stubborn ass isn’t going to stop me.” He doesn’t sound nearly as convinced as he’d like to. He sounds desperate. Scared.
“Even if that was the biggest fucking problem here, paying my debt is not yours to do. I am not your responsibility. And I don’t want to be.” I push back, freeing myself from him and those devastating eyes.
“If it’s not the money or the trial, then what is it?”
I take a deep breath in and swallow down the fear threatening to take me out before I can finish what I set into motion. Then, I let it all go. “The problem is that I don’t have any feelings. Not for you. Not for anyone. I had feelings once. And I wasted them on the wrong person for many years. Until one day, when something broke inside me. Literally.” I search his face and zero in on his black pupils and the empty abyss I crave right now. I let it pull me in, away from here. Away from everything until I’m just floating far off in the distance where I can barely hear my own voice anymore. “I killed him. And now I’m dead. You can’t fix dead, Riker. You’re just going to have deal with it.”
“You’re not dead. I’ve felt the warmth of your breath on my lips when you’ve kissed me with more passion than most people are capable of. I’ve heard your heart beat out of your chest after you’ve made love to me. And I’ve seen the way your body comes to life under my touch. You. Are. Not. Dead. And even if you were, it wouldn’t change a damn thing. I am in love with you.” His mouth charges at mine and stops short where he hovers, a raspy rumble coming from his lips, “Deal with that.”
His kiss takes me so rapidly my head is spinning. Or maybe it’s from hearing him say those words. The words I was hoping he would never say. Because now there’s only one way out.
“Don’t.” I push my hands into his chest and break away from him.
“Why not?” He’s not trying to kiss me anymore, but he’s not letting go of me either.
“Because.” I stare him square in the eyes. “I don’t love you.”
He bites his lip, dropping his head to his chest. “Really? You’re going to do this?”
I shrug out of his grip. “I have to. Not telling you the truth, would be wrong. I’ve led you on for long enough.”
When his head rises again, his mouth is one thin line and his jaws are clearly clenched. “But you’re not telling the truth. You’re lying straight to my face.”
“I’m not,” I insist, my tone void of all emotion. “You just don’t want to hear it.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.” And for the first time, he physically turns away from me. “I don’t know what else I can do here, Quinn. I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for. I’ve respected your privacy. Did all I knew how to do trying to earn your trust. Shared with you the darkest, most devastating parts of my life. And did the one thing I swore to myself I would never do again, I gave you my heart. And yes, I know you didn’t ask for it. And fuck, I get that you don’t want it. But, don’t you dare stand there and tell me that you didn’t give me yours, too.”
I’m clamping down on my own tongue so hard I can taste blood, but it’s the only way I know how to hold it together right now. By keeping my focus on something small. Simple. Like the sharp pain in my tongue.
I grind my jaw back and forth one last time, and I think I may need stitches by the time this is over. Then I do it. I say it again.
“I’m sorry this is so hard for you to accept. But, I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I am not now, nor have I ever been, in love with you.”
His eyes narrow and fury flares inside them. “Take it back,” he snarls through gritted teeth. “Take it back, Quinn, or I swear, I’m walking away and I’m not coming after you again. Because I can’t... I can’t keep doing th
is with you.” Then, his face loses all tension and he whispers, “Or did you forget, you’re not the only broken person standing here?”
It takes everything I’ve got not to say and do whatever it takes to erase the hurt so clearly pouring out of him. But I can’t. Not when I know it would only be temporary.
“I won’t take it back. I can’t.”
For some idiotic reason I expect him to continue to fight. To say something else. Anything to get me to change my mind. Because on some sick selfish level I’m desperate for him to change it. Only he doesn’t. He turns and walks away just like he said he would. And I have no choice but to stand there and watch him.
Chapter Seventeen
Riker
I don’t think I’ve moved in twenty hours. After I left Quinn out on that beach, I just drove home, walked in and sat down on the bed. And here I am. Still in the same fucking place. I heard my phone ring several times, but I never bothered to check it. I’m pretty damn sure it was Sid anyway. She’s the only person who calls me. Plus, I missed feeding Nox last night. And then again this morning.
I don’t care if he starves to death this time. It’s his fucking fault I’ve been sitting here for twenty hours. His fault I’m hoping a tsunami hits this house and takes me out to sea with the rubble. If he hadn’t been so damn stubborn that day, running off and choosing her – her, of all people – to be the one to catch him, I wouldn’t be in this mess now.
I’m about to start cursing him out loud when I hear a knock at my door. I watch it, waiting to see it open. Frankly, I’m a little shocked Sid knocked at all. Normally, when I go AWOL she’s prone to just busting through doors.
Then, there’s another knock. Well, that rules out Sid. And pretty much my desire to see whoever it is. Not that I want to see Sid either, but her I can’t deny. Everyone else is open to rejection at this point.
Only, whoever the fuck it is, is persistent because they’re knocking again. And now, they’re not letting up.
“What the hell?!” I get to my feet and stomp across the room. When I throw the door back, Kirsten’s little fist nearly pounds me right in the nose.