Quinn

 

I already know that today I’ll be navigating a metaphorical minefield. Yesterday evening had been tough. Colt had left the house to go God only knows where, and I haven’t seen him since. Knowing Gabe needed space, I’d hidden in my room most of the night. A few times, I’d heard raised voices, and since Harper and Ash hadn’t sought me out, I’d known that they had their hands full with Gabe and Channing.

I lean into the mirror above my dresser and apply a layer of lipstick to my lips. Last night, I’d thought it wise to stay out of sight, but today, that’s the last thing I’m going to do. What Colt and I were doing wasn’t wrong. I can understand how it’d be difficult for the others to wrap their heads around, but in the end, it’s Colt’s and my decision, not theirs. I refuse to act as if there’s anything to feel guilty over.

After I grab my purse, I leave my room and head for the kitchen. It’s early, so Ash and Harper are still home, and they’re sitting at the island eating their breakfast with serious expressions on their faces. They both look up.

I set my purse on the island. “I bet you guys had a fun evening,” I say dryly.

I turn and walk to the cupboard where I store my Pop-Tarts. I open a fresh package and slip one in the toaster before turning back to face them. “So, how bad is it?”

“Bad,” Harper relies.

“Channing’s not quite sure what to think,” Ash says tentatively. “He’s...uncomfortable over the idea of you and Colt.” Her eyes search mine. “I had no idea you two…”

“We aren’t anything,” I explain, not wanting her to feel hurt that I hadn’t mentioned it to her. “At least not yet. There’s an attraction, and there could be more, but Colt’s reluctant to explore it. There was no point in saying anything when there wasn’t really anything to share.”

Ash slowly nods with understanding.

Harper’s brow furrows. “Gabe made it sound like you two were definitely on the same page.”

The corner of my mouth tilts upwards. “I was going to give him head. What guy is going to deny himself that?”

“Gabe’s angry that Colt had nothing to say for himself. He feels that it shouldn’t have been all on you to deal with things as they’d gone down. I kind of have to agree with him.”

The Pop-Tart pops up in the toaster, and I grab a plate and drop it onto it before sitting down at the island. “Colt’s not going to defend himself—not to Gabe or Channing—if he feels he’s the guilty party,” I explain.

Harper frowns. “Quinn, you can’t single-handedly fix the issue.”

“I know,” I say miserably.

“I think if Colt can get on board with you and fight for what you two could have, Channing would eventually accept it,” Ash informs me.

“But right now, it looks like Colt’s taking advantage of you,” Harper adds.

I shake my head with frustration. “He’s not. He’s trying to do what he thinks is right.”

“It didn’t look that way when he had his pants down,” Ash says wryly.

I grimace and begin breaking apart my breakfast. “That’s my fault. I cornered him and didn’t give him much chance to protest.” I pop a piece of Pop-Tart into my mouth.

Ash studies me. “Do you really think you can wear him down?”

“I’m doing my damnedest, but he’s stubborn.”

Harper sighs. “This is all my fault.”

Ash turns to her, a look of confusion on her face. “How so?”

“I’m the one who suggested Quinn go after Colt.” Her eyes shift to me, her gaze apologetic. “This has become much more complicated than I ever thought it could. I’m sorry, Quinn.”

“It’s not your fault,” I tell her. “I would have eventually caved and made a move without anyone’s input.”

“What I’d like to know is where Colt’s head is at. Is he going to talk to Channing and Gabe? How’s he going to diffuse the situation?” she asks thoughtfully.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Right now, he’s pissed at me. We haven’t spoken since Gabe walked in on us.”

“He shouldn’t be mad at you,” Ash says.

“We’re in this mess because of me,” I remind.

“Still. He could have said no.”

I shrug.

We all fall silent, and a minute later, Colt ambles into the kitchen. His expression gives nothing away when he sees us, and he sets his duffle bag down and walks to the refrigerator.

The atmosphere has now become tense.

Ash clears her throat and rises to her feet, her empty bowl in hand. “I’d better get going.”

“Me too,” Harper says, standing.

I watch them both quickly leave the kitchen, and my eyes swing back to Colt. His back is to me as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. I study him, noting that he no longer seems to be filled with the tension he’d been feeling yesterday. I suppose that’s good. Unless he believes I’m going leave him alone for good. That could be a problem.

I’m debating what to say when Ash and Harper re-enter the kitchen. I note that Harper looks pale. “What’s wrong?” I ask immediately, causing Colt to turn to see what’s going on.

Harper looks at me and hesitates.

Slade did something to my car.

I scramble off my stool and rush down the hall.

“Quinn, wait!” Colt calls after me.

No way in hell am I waiting around for him. I need to see whatever put that sick expression on Harper’s face. I hurry through the living room, Colt right on my heels as I burst out the front door. I’m halfway down the driveway when I come to a complete halt as I try to process what I’m seeing on my car.

It’s covered in red with pale blue peeking out from beneath large splatters. There are clumps of gold fur sticking to the car in some places. I blink and squint at the clump attached to the end of the antenna. It looks like an animal head. My hand covers my mouth as I stare at the horrific sight of all the gore on my beloved car.

“Son of a bitch,” Colt breathes, standing beside me.

“It…looks like a puppy,” Harper says hoarsely.

Oh God. The thing on the antenna is beginning to make sense now, and I cringe—completely sickened.

“Quinn,” Ash says, touching my arm.

I’m still unable to tear my gaze from my car.

“Go. You guys don’t need to see this,” Colt instructs Harper and Ash.

Ash moves and puts herself in my way so that I have no choice but to look at her. Somberness fills her brown eyes. “We can stay,” she offers.

I shake my head. “Go. I’ll be fine,” I say flatly as the horror begins to fade. Now, I’m left feeling disgusted and pissed.

He notices the hose and quickly yanks it from my grip.

“Hey!” I exclaim.

“You can’t. Not yet.”

“I can’t drive it to work like that,” I snap at him, trying to grab the hose, but he blocks me.

He gives me a firm look. “Bryce needs to see it. Quinn, this needs to be reported and documented. That means photos,” he explains.

“I’m not denying that, but I also have a client at nine. I’m not bailing on my client because Slade’s a sick fuck.”

Colt sighs and digs his keys out of his jeans pocket, holding them out to me. “Take my truck. Bryce will need photos, and he can talk to you on your break or when you get home.”

I stare at him. Did he just offer me his truck? Colt doesn’t allow anyone to drive it. Ever. “You’re sure?” I hear myself asking.

He sets the hose down and reaches for my hand, pressing the keys into my palm. Then, I receive a warning look. “You hit anything, and we’re going to have a very big problem.” He nods his head towards the driveway. “Let’s go. I want you out of here while this mess is dealt with.”

We begin walking to the driveway, and my eyes slide to my car once more. “He bought a puppy just to…” I can’t even finish the sentence.

Colt’s hands settle on my shoulders as he turns me away from the car so that he can peer into my face, his eyes dead serious. “He’s a sociopath. As much as you want him to go away, he’s not going to.”

I shudder. “I know,” I reluctantly admit.

He looks at me steadily. “Then it’s time to admit that you can’t handle this without help. Stop going out to prove that he’s not getting to you.”

“You’re asking me to quit living my life,” I say unhappily.

“I’m asking you to stay safe,” he corrects.

“I’m going to be late.”

He releases my shoulders and steps back. “Go, I’ll call Bryce.”

“What about your job?”

“They’ll understand.”

I nod, and my eyes linger on him before I turn and begin walking to the large, black truck parked at the end of the driveway.

“Quinn?” he calls.

I turn to look back at him.

“Watch your back.”

“I will,” I promise.

I have to literally climb up into the driver’s seat, and after I close the door, I begin adjusting the seat and mirrors. It feels strange to be this high up, and I’m aware of Colt standing in the driveway as he watches me with folded arms, his brow creased. It’s probably killing him watching me drive his truck.

I start the engine, listening to it rumble before I pull on my seatbelt.

Here goes nothing.

As I carefully back into the street, I see Channing exiting the house to see what’s going on. I can’t deny that I’m relieved to be leaving that mess behind.