After about twenty minutes of gregarious conversation, Rowan gave up even pretending she was interested in food and instead signaled a passing waiter. “I need a gin and tonic,” she said, earning a surprised look from Quinn. She wasn’t much of a drinker.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Quinn interjected, confused. “That won’t help your stomach.”
“Actually, I think it will help,” Rowan replied. It was the nerves eating her alive and making her feel ill. Alcohol was known to be relaxing, after all. “Make it a tall one.” The waiter nodded in understanding and turned to leave, but she grabbed his arm before he could disappear. “Actually, make it two.”
ROWAN WAS DRUNK. THAT’S ALL Quinn could think about as she downed her fourth cocktail and laughed like an idiot at some story Michael decided to share with the crowd. Quinn was sure it was exaggerated. While women threw themselves at the friendly captain because of his position, he’d never once seen four women at once chase him across the deck, which was the end result of the story he chose to tell tonight. Quinn figured it wasn’t his place to question Michael’s story, though. He had bigger problems. The biggest was sitting next to him and trying to flag down a waiter.
Ever since she started drinking, Rowan had become much friendlier. She engaged Julia and Darcy in conversation, asked polite questions, and even laughed at a few jokes. Anyone outside their immediate circle would think she was being friendly. Quinn knew better.
“I’ll have another.” Rowan tapped the side of her glass when the waiter caught her eye.
“No, she won’t,” Quinn interjected, grabbing the glass and lowering it to the table. “She’s done.”
Rowan’s eyes were full of fire when she turned them to Quinn. “I think I can decide if I’m thirsty.”
“Not tonight you can’t.” He wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin and slowly stood. “I apologize, but we’re going to have to cut things short. I need to get Rowan back to the room. This stomach bug is doing a number on her.”
Disappointment flitted across Spencer’s face. “Oh, that’s a shame. We didn’t get a chance to talk about the two of you at all.”
That was true, and something Quinn was ridiculously thankful for. “Maybe another time.” He grabbed Rowan’s elbow and helped her onto unsteady feet. She was practically a teetotaler so four cocktails had pretty much sent her to La-La Land. “Say goodnight, Rowan.”
“Goodnight, Rowan,” she mocked.
He bit back his anger, reminded himself she was out of her element and terrified, and then led her away from the table. “I hope you all have a lovely evening.”
Rowan was full of complaints on the way back to the room, anger bitterly spewing forth. Quinn completely ignored anything she said, making sure to keep a firm grip on her so she wouldn’t wander away. Once inside, he threw his keycard on the dresser and glared at her.
“What were you thinking?”
Rowan opened her mouth to answer and then made a face. “I don’t know. I just needed to loosen up. I would’ve given us away if I didn’t loosen up.”
“There are different ways to loosen up besides getting blitzed.”
“I’m hardly blitzed.” As if to prove her point, Rowan tried to flip off her sandals, and almost tripped.
Quinn lunged forward to catch her. “Right. You’re not blitzed. You’re completely in control of your faculties.”
Rowan jutted out her lower lip. “I am. I’m awesome. I’m great. I’m ... .” She trailed off, her expression twisting. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She bolted into the bathroom with little preamble, not closing the door before falling to her knees and lurching over the toilet.
Quinn watched the show, helplessness tightening his chest. He thought about going to her, holding back her hair, and saying whatever she needed to hear to feel better. He couldn’t make himself do it, though.
He was disappointed in her. That had never happened, not since the moment they’d met. She’d confused him, infuriated him, even hurt him a time or two. She’d never disappointed him, though. He didn’t know what to make of the phenomenon.
“Oh, good grief,” Rowan muttered as she went back for a second round.
“I guess now would be a good time to mention vomit,” he offered.
“You’re so funny.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, and even though he was frustrated, he hated to see them.
“I’ll get you some clothes to change into,” he offered. “I’ll get some ginger ale for your stomach, too. Oh, and some aspirin. It’s probably best if you throw it all up. That’s the only way you won’t be hungover tomorrow.”
“Sure. Great. I ... .” Her head was back in the toilet before she finished, causing him to shake his head and stomp to the dresser. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this way where she was concerned and he wasn’t happy with his reaction, let alone her antics over the course of the last hour.
He yanked open the middle drawer, where he knew she kept sleep shorts and tank tops, and frowned when his eyes fell on two envelopes. His name was scrawled across one. Her father's name across the other.
He forgot about his hunt for pajamas and grabbed the top letter. He considered asking her about it before invading her privacy and then opted against it. She was otherwise engaged, and he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding at the possibility that she’d written something horrendous to him. What if her show this evening had nothing to do with their dinner guests and everything to do with something else?
He had the letter open and was reading it before he gave much thought to how she would react. Frankly, he didn’t care. Once her head was on straight, they were going to have a long talk. Unfortunately for him, the letter was worse than he envisioned. No wonder she was so upset. No wonder she was lost.
She was going to die.
Now he was the one who felt sick. On a whim, he dropped the letter on the bed and strode to the nightstand to grab her camera. He was familiar enough with the mechanics to access the photos she’d taken during the day. Sure enough, her face popped up in ten of them. She’d obviously taken them of herself given the angle.
The anger he felt drained as he flipped through each photo. She’d taught him how to recognize the omen, and it was present in every snapshot.
“Oh, geez.” His eyes burned, as did the lining of his stomach. He thought he might actually have to push her out of the way and join her in front of the toilet before all was said and done. “Oh, geez. I can’t believe this. How could you keep this from me?”
9
Nine
Quinn felt frozen in place. He couldn’t stop looking at the photos over and over ... and over ... again. Her face, so lovely with her big eyes and high cheekbones. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile in the photos, though.
He was a man of action and yet he felt such fear that he was immobilized. Should he call Paul to see the photo? Should he fake an emergency to get her off the ship? Should he lock her in the bathroom and never let her out? All of them sounded like viable options.
And then he heard her get sick again and all thoughts about how he was going to keep her safe in the future fled in the wake of the realization that he had to take care of her now.
Slowly, he lowered the camera to the nightstand. He allowed himself a brief moment to feel the fear, and then he pushed it out of his mind. He grabbed a tank top and sleep shorts from the dresser and returned to the bathroom, his heart giving a mighty heave when he saw her face resting on the side of the toilet seat. She was sweating and looked miserable, tears streaming down her face.
“Here, sweetie.” He dropped the clothes on the floor and moved to the sink, filling one of the provided plastic cups with water and grabbing a hair tie and brush before sliding onto the floor behind her. The bathroom was tiny. They had to get inventive when they both wanted to be in there at the same time. He ignored that now.
“Try to drink this for me,” he prodded, handing her the cup. “I’m going to pull your hair back.”
<
br /> Rowan wordlessly took the cup, but she didn’t drink. She felt terrible, as if she’d been hollowed out. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t find a way out of the void she appeared to be trapped in.
Of course, that could be the gin talking.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, gripping the cup with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I don’t ever want to do that.”
Quinn paused in his efforts to drag the brush through her tangled hair and considered his words. “You didn’t embarrass me.” He managed to pull her auburn waves back into a loose bun. He’d watched her do the same enough times he understood how it worked. “I was a little disappointed in you earlier, but I get it now.”
The simple admission was enough to have Rowan’s shoulders shaking as the tears started flowing again. “Oh ... I’m ... oh ... .”
“Don’t, baby.” He moved his hands to her shoulders as the sobs overtook her. “Don’t dwell on it. Just ... get it all out of your system. Finish throwing up. Then I’m going to pour some more water into you, some Advil, and put you to bed. You need sleep at this point.”
“I didn’t mean to disappoint you.” She sounded so morose Quinn’s heart threatened to break.
“You didn’t.” He kissed the back of her neck and stroked her cheek. “I didn’t realize everything you were dealing with. I understand now. I’m not disappointed. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
“I’m not sure that’s true.” Rowan searched for the correct words to explain what she’d discovered earlier in the afternoon. She didn’t realize he’d already uncovered the truth. “I have something to tell you. You’re not going to like it. I’m so afraid to tell you but ... you have to know. You just have to even though it will probably ruin our last few hours together. I don’t know what else to do.”
Quinn worked his jaw away from her sightline and then shook his head. “We’re going to talk about it tomorrow. You’re not ready to deal with it right now.” In truth, neither was he. His mind was too jumbled to sort through the emotions threatening to overtake him. “I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to make you well again.” Then, tomorrow, we’ll have a very long talk in the morning, he silently added.
“I’m sorry for all of it. I didn’t know I was going to fall apart like that.”
He moved his hands to the back of her neck. “Nobody is perfect all the time. Even you.” His smile was rueful as he brushed his lips over her temple. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“I think I’m done puking. You don’t have to worry about me.”
It was too late for that. Quinn loved her with his whole heart. The fear gripping him by the throat was real ... and altogether overwhelming. They couldn’t risk a heavy discussion tonight, though. She was drunk and he was emotionally overwrought. It would have to wait.
“You should drink some water and brush your teeth. Then we’ll get you settled in bed.”
“Okay.” She rolled her neck. “I really am sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He meant it. “It’s not the end of the world. In fact, maybe the Phoenix Society folks think you’re a drunk and don’t want you now. It’s a different approach than I would’ve picked but it’s still mildly interesting to see how they’ll react.”
“At least you’re looking on the bright side of things.”
“There is that.”
QUINN DIDN’T THINK HE WOULD MANAGE even five minutes of sleep. He was wrong. Not long after getting her tucked in on her side, the garbage bin on the floor in case she needed it, she slid into slumber. He curled around her, determined to keep her close, and assumed he would stare at the wall the entire night. Instead, her steady breathing lulled him. The feel of her heart against his reminded him she was safe ... at least for now. Before he realized what was happening, he’d drifted off.
He didn’t wake again until the sun was shining through the window. Then, one look at Rowan’s confused eyes as she rubbed her forehead and made faces told him all he needed to know. Things were about to get turbulent on The Bounding Storm.
“My head is killing me,” Rowan complained, rolling to a sitting position and rubbing her forehead. “I haven’t felt this bad since college. Ugh.”
Quinn stretched his arms over his head, his back popping as he worked out a few kinks. He wasn’t used to sleeping in the position he was forced all night — generally she rested her head on his shoulder and they wrapped themselves around one another a different way — and he was afraid his back was going to stiffen up throughout the day. “I’ll get you some water and Advil,” he offered, sliding his legs from beneath the covers. “Just ... wait there.”
He took his time in the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, stared at his reflection, and then gathered the items she needed. When he returned, he found her in the exact same position. She was obviously hurting.
“Here, sweetie.” He shuffled to the bed and handed her the water and tablets. “Swallow all of it.”
Rowan did as instructed without a single complaint. When she was finished, she turned a set of red-rimmed eyes to him and offered up a lame apology. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint you the way I did last night.”
She remembered that much of their conversation, Quinn realized. She probably didn’t remember much, but that she couldn’t shake. It made him unhappy. “You didn’t disappoint me.” That was the truth. He’d worked out a lot of his angst in his dreams and he was determined to fix things between them. “I know you were going through a lot.”
“You do?” She furrowed her brow. “How do you know?”
It was time to put all their cards on the table. “Because I found this.” He retrieved the letter she’d left him from the nightstand and held it up for her inspection. “I can’t believe you were going to say goodbye to me in a letter.”
Rowan balked, horrified. “How did you find that?”
“I was looking for pajamas for you last night. I saw the letter in the drawer.”
“And you read it? That was a private letter.”
“With my name on it.”
“Yeah, but ... .” Rowan trailed off. She honestly had no idea what she was supposed to say to him. “I’m sorry.” The words were insufficient, weak. “I’m so sorry. I freaked out. I had to check myself ... and then I had to check you because you were in that photo with me. You’re safe, though. I’m the only one who is going to die. You’re safe.” She grabbed his hand and gave it a solid squeeze.
“Is that what you think I’m worried about?” Quinn asked, incredulous. “Do you think I’m worried about myself?”
“Of course not. It’s just ... you’re going to be okay. That’s probably not a great comfort to you right now, but it is to me. You’re going to be okay. That’s actually the most important thing in the world to me.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth as he debated how to respond. “Rowan, I’m really angry at you right now,” he said finally. “I mean ... so angry. Despite that, I still love you more than anything. I need you to know that in case I start yelling and it frightens you.
“Nothing in this world is ever going to drag me from you,” he continued. “You and I belong together. It’s not going to change. However, all that being said, I’m so mad at you right now I can hardly see straight.”
Rowan balked. “I ... you ... .”
He bobbed his head in understanding. “You know why I’m angry, don’t you?”
Her eyes filled with morose regret. “You’re mad because I didn’t tell you.”
“Well, at least I don’t have to explain it.”
“I was going to tell you,” she protested after a beat. “I had it all planned out in my head. I was going to wait until after dinner so you wouldn’t accidentally snap and stab Spencer in the throat with a fork. I thought it was best to wait.”
“Which put you in danger because I wasn’t aware what was going on.”
Rowan turned sheepish. “
I didn’t really think about it that way. I was just trying to survive the night.”
On the surface, Quinn understood that. That didn’t make her reaction okay. “Why did you write the letters if you were going to tell me?” he challenged, determined to get everything out in the open.
“Because ... because ... .” Rowan looked pained as she regrouped. “Because I wasn’t sure I was going to tell you right away. You have to understand, I was stunned when Darcy showed me the photo. I didn’t know what to do. I had to get away from her, and I retreated to the room.”
“I don’t have a problem with that,” Quinn practically exploded. “The room was the safest place for you. That was smart. The letters were not.”
“I was in shock I think. Maybe just a little. I took a bunch of photos of myself and then started to think what your life would be like without me. I knew you would be upset, grieve hard. You would be alive, though. Eventually you would be able to move on.”
Quinn’s eyes filled with fire. “You are an idiot if you think I would ever move on from you. When I said you were it for me, I meant it. There will never be anyone else.”
“You can’t know that.” Rowan opted to be practical. “Sure, you feel that now, but you’ll move on eventually. You’ll find someone else to fill the hole in your heart.”
“No, I won’t.” Quinn was adamant. “There will never be anyone for me but you. That’s hardly the conversation we should be focusing on right now, though. Keep in mind, we will discuss it later. You’d better prepare yourself.
“I want to know why you didn’t tell me the second you realized you were in danger,” he pressed. “Did you think I wouldn’t care?”
“I knew you would care. I simply wasn’t sure you would be able to do anything about it and, if I only had a few hours or days left, I wanted to spend them with you being happy instead of constantly looking over my shoulder.”
Quinn opened his mouth, something particularly spiteful on the tip of his tongue. Her words hurt worse than anything else she could’ve said. In a weird way, though, he understood the sentiment. “You didn’t want us to be sad if it was really the end.”
Farewell Seas Page 47