Chapter 10

Quinn

I couldn’t sleep that night. I paced around my brand new house, gazing at the boxes that were still filled with all my things, my entire life, hardly able to comprehend that I had uprooted my existence. With Tyler sleeping somewhere next door, a crater had begun to form in my heart, a reminder that perhaps I would die alone, after all.

I’d found a zenith of emotion, of sexual passion. And he’d sent me out the door.

“Shit,” I murmured, collapsing against the tan couch, still in my clothes. Toying with the buttons on my pink sweater, I remembered the way he’d ripped it from me—making me naked and vulnerable before him. How I’d inhaled his musk, biting at his lips, yearning for every inch of him to be deep inside me.

Was it his daughter? I wondered then. His daughter was too important to him, forcing him to make a choice between living as a sexual being and living as a father? Or was it his job, forcing him back and forth across the continent?

He’d seemed pent up as if this had been coming in his life for a long time. As if he’d seen the ball and grabbed it from the air, taking every point he could.

Feeling lifeless, I watched as the sun crept over the horizon, making Raleigh come alive with it. Tyler drove his truck from the driveway at around six in the morning, right on cue, making me want to stand on the porch steps and wave at him like some kind of creepy stalker.

No. I had to face the truth. I had to avoid Tyler, as he’d asked.

Rising up from my stance on the couch, I forced myself to take a few sleeping pills (horrible, I knew, based on my sleep research), and then crawled into bed, confident that I would find time to finish the unpacking when I woke. Depression was creeping over my heart, making it difficult to think about anything but the man who had just fucked me and then dismissed me.

You’ve only known him a week; I told myself as my eyes flickered closed. Let it go. This is not your battle. This was a mere fling. If it was something he didn’t want any part of, there was nothing I could do to change it. It was a moment that passed between us and nothing more.

Finally, my body released me. Finally, I slept.

The next day, I continued to unpack slowly, conscious that Tyler was far away from my prying eyes. Therefore, I could make use of myself, not having the excuse to hunt for him, to think about where he was or when he was returning home.

By the afternoon, I took a drive to the local convenience store for light bulbs and snacks. Whistling behind the dashboard, I felt sunlight streaming across my chest and face, causing a grin to form. But as I drove, something caught the corner of my eye, forcing my face to fling left.

A group of children had just walked past my car, bobbing and skipping and giggling in that general way. But another girl lagged behind, carrying a large poster in her hands. Her chin was straight downward, making her look at her shoes with intensity, and her ponytail bobbed sadly.

Jesus. It was Rachel.

Turning the car in a dramatic U turn, I swept toward Rachel, who was now more than half a football field away from her classmates. Checking the time, I realized it was just after school—3:30—and that Rachel was probably walking in the direction of her mother’s house. At least, that’s what I hoped.

The car petered to a halt beside Rachel, who, at first, avoided glancing at me. “I don’t speak to strangers,” had been the old mantra, following us all through school. And I supposed it was still upheld, now.

Rolling down the windows, I called out to her. “Hey! Rachel! Hey!”

Rachel turned swiftly, shocked at hearing her name. When she saw me grinning madly at her, she nearly dropped her poster in surprise. “Quinn!” she cried out. Flashing her poster toward me, she giggled. “I made this because of you!”

The pink poster had crooked letters across it, which read: “WOMEN CAN BE SCIENTISTS, TOO!” Beneath, Rachel had printed out several photographs of women scientists, both in the lab and in the medical field. I shook my head, smiling. “When did you make that?” I asked.

“Last night. It was for this dumb science project,” Rachel said. “They don’t let us get our hands dirty making silly posters. But I, of course, got an A.”

“Of course you did,” I said, feeling my grin stretch wider. “Why don’t you get in the car? I can take you the rest of the way.”

Rachel leaped toward the car with zealous energy, ripping open the door and joining me. She turned up the radio station, telling me she ‘loved’ the song playing. “Are you on your way to the lab?” she asked.

“Well,” I began, thinking about the long, tiled, white floor and gleaming tables. “If you want, we could stop by there. I don’t technically start until Monday, but…”

“Really?” Rachel asked, jumping slightly on her chair. “Because that would be AMAZING!”

“All right,” I said, no longer thinking about Rachel in the context of her father. She was a young girl, interested in my world. Why the hell wouldn’t I show her what I did? “But we can’t be too long. I know you have to get home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

I turned the car around, back toward the university, and then eased into one of the employee parking spots—confident that nobody would ticket me if we were only in there for a few minutes. Rachel left her poster in the car and followed me inside, chatting amicably about her classmates, about what they were reading in science class.

“Mitosis. It’s amazing,” she said, her voice lowering as we entered the first area of the lab, where we donned aprons and washed our hands. “And meiosis next week. I think I’m going to make a diagram with play dough. The kids in my class, they just don’t get it. They call me a nerd.”

I patted her back, guiding her into the lab, where one of my new colleagues was busy in the far reaches. I gave him a sturdy hand in hello. “Being called a nerd is one of the best compliments ever,” I whispered to her, leading her to an experiment currently unmanned, closer to the door. The mice were in the midst of their daytime activities, racing along a spinning wheel and nibbling at their food. Rachel giggled, watching them.

“They aren’t allowed to sleep,” I told her. “We’re monitoring what happens to them after they don’t sleep for five days, ten days…” I trailed off.

“I get really cranky,” Rachel said. “And Mommy has a panic attack when she doesn’t sleep. She yells at everyone in sight.”

“Is your mother expecting you back?” I asked her suddenly, realizing that this girl was attached to far more than her father.

“Right after school, yeah,” Rachel said, shrugging.

“Shit,” I murmured, righting myself. My eyes glanced toward the door, conscious I needed to get Rachel back to her mother’s as soon as possible.

“Heh,” Rachel laughed. “Shit. Can I say that around you?”

“Umm. No,” I replied, leading Rachel back toward the door. “Maybe I can bring you back to the lab another time? I guess I didn’t think this through.”

Shit. And now, this would get back to Tyler, who would inevitably think I was trying to stalk him by hanging out with his kid.

I looked needier than ever.

Rachel and I raced back to the car, marked with the bright pink poster in the front seat. Rachel spoke excitedly about the lab as she directed me toward her mother’s house, which was close to the university, thank god.

“And the mice—they keep everything else the same? Their food patterns? They just aren’t allowed to sleep?” she asked me.

I just grunted in return, focused entirely on driving. I would make it up to her later if I was ever allowed to see her again.

Bounding up the driveway, I yanked the car into park and then stepped out onto the pavement. Rachel joined me, laughing at how spastic I was. “It’s okay. She’s probably just passed out in front of the television,” she told me.

My eyebrows crept together at her statement.

Once at the door, I knocked, before Rachel reached up and stabbed her key inside. “Oh,” I said, realizing.

But Rachel’s mother opened the door almost too quickly as if she’d seen the car in the driveway. She assessed me with green, eagle eyes, whipping her dyed red hair behind her shoulders, looking like a cartoon version of a villain. She eased her hands over her daughter’s shoulder in a faux-hug, trying to sniff me out.

“Hello. Who are you?” she asked, her voice snake-like, slithery.

“I’m—um—“ I stuttered, sensing the ten years difference between us. “I’m—“

“This is Quinn, Mom,” Rachel said, ripping out of her hug. A smile stretched across her face, one of secrecy. “She’s Daddy’s girlfriend. Didn’t he tell you about her?”

My jaw dropped. I could feel the whites of my eyes bleeding out from behind my eyelids, making me look ghoulish. Where on earth had this girl come up with this idea? Did Rachel know that I’d slept with her dad? Of course, she hadn’t. She had been at her mother’s house when they had their sexual encounter.

Jesus.

“Oh,” the woman said, knocking the door open a little more. She brought her hand out to shake mine, looking at me with a bit more respect and interest. “Quinn, was it? I’m Marnie.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I found myself lying, glancing around the living room. It was dirty, smelling of grime and overcooked television dinners. An overweight man slept in a chair near the corner, snoring. “I’ve heard so much.”

“I’m sure you have, Quinn,” Marnie said, sounding suspicious. “I’m absolutely sure you have.”

“Is—um. Is Rachel going to be all right here, tonight? Or are you guys in the middle of something?” I asked, hunting around for some semblance of normalcy within the living room. “Just—I don’t want to interrupt.”

I didn’t want to give away that I felt this woman was a rotten mother and that this environment seemed ill-suited for a child of Rachel’s caliber. Rachel shifted her weight below me, flicking her eyes between us. Behind her, the television seemed to rattle with a sex scene so provocative; it made my cheeks turn bright red.

Marnie eyed me suspiciously, then craned her head back. “Actually,” she said, seeming filled with a sudden burst of light. “Greg and I could use a night out.”