Epilogue
After two months living in a prison in the middle of nowhere, followed by a week holed up in an apartment to avoid the media and paparazzi, the speed and noise of the city are overwhelming. Still, at least in Philadelphia no one’s looking for me, and I can blend into the crowd.
I press the apartment building’s buzzer and wait.
The women from Walker have been scattered and housed in secure locations, giving them time to try and reclaim some semblance of normality. Some have elected to stay together, wanting someone with them who they know.
“Yes, who is it?”
“Lydia… it’s me.”
Our names have been kept secret, though some have opted to speak publicly, including Jacqueline and Isabel. Though her wound required surgery, Jacqueline is going to pull through. But she wanted to be the first to tell the world what Prescott did to her, addressing the media from her hospital room.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah.”
A high-pitched scream plays through the intercom before shutting off. I don’t hear the door unlock, but after a moment I see Lydia hurtling through the hall.
“Oh my god,” she says when she sees me, tears already wetting her cheeks.
I get it — the first time I looked in a mirror at Reed’s apartment, I was startled. The constant work and poor nutrition caused me to lose some weight, and being indoors almost all the time paled my skin to ghostly white. I’ve seen a dietitian and a nutritionist — and I’ll spend as much time as I can outdoors before fall turns to winter.
“Hey, Lydia,” I say. “It’s good to see you.”
She practically launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. Trembling and crying, Lydia touches my hair, my back, as if unsure this is real.
“I knew you were one of them,” she says, her voice wavering as her breathing hitches. “When I heard the news…”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t call you sooner,” I say. “It’s been a long week.”
“Please! I’m just so glad you’re okay. I’ve been so afraid for you…”
I wouldn’t say anything, but it shows: her face looks drawn from constant worry. She looks like she’s lost weight — too much. She doesn’t eat when she’s apprehensive, and then hunger just exacerbates her worrying. The last two months must have been no picnic for her either.
“I’ll be okay, Lydia. Are you hungry? You want to get lunch?”
Her eyes light up and she wipes away her last tears. “I’d love to! Any preference?”
“Just somewhere quiet.”
—
Reed takes the news better than I thought he would.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll respect that,” he says, taking a seat on the hotel bed. He’s thrown a towel over his shoulder, his hair still dripping from the shower. The sight of his chest makes me smile as much as his response.
“Really? You’re not upset?”
He shrugs, then rises and pulls me into an embrace. His body feels impossibly hard — he’s had a lot of spare time to work out since we brought down Walker. “I am, a little. Since Marla got me the immunity deal, I got used to the idea of us living together. I was excited about it, but if you want to move in with Lydia, I won’t stop you.”
I kiss him, then let him pull me down with him onto the bed. Lying next to him, I lean my head against his shoulder. “It won’t be forever. We said we were going to be roommates in Philly, and I want to pick up my life where it left off. I’ll still see you all the time.”
“Yeah, you will,” he says, turning over to kiss my forehead.
“And it’ll give you some space to figure out who you want to be, and what you want to do. Have you thought about college?” I ask.
“I’m way too old for college,” he laughs, shaking his head.
“Hey, that’s bullshit and you know it. Don’t be a chicken, Reed.”
He lifts me up and smacks my ass. “Behave yourself, Quinn.”
The sweet sting sends a surge of need through my body, and I bite my lip, eager for more. Acting on instinct, I pull off my shirt and toss it onto the dresser.
“I’m going to find a job,” he says, sitting me back down and unhooking my bra. “At least until the restitution comes in.”
It didn’t occur to me until a few days ago, on a conference call with Marla, Carson and Helena, that we’re going to sue the ever-loving shit out of Darren Prescott, all the rich sponsors and the estates of Byron Ashworth and Judge Jonah Jefferson. They were all rich as fuck, especially Prescott, and even split a few dozen ways, everyone is expected to receive millions. It’s not going to change what happened to us, but it’ll help us start over.
“Deal,” I say. “But I want you to think about it. Maybe take a course or two at night?”
Grunting hungrily, he fondles my breasts, tracing his thumbs along my hardening nipples. “Yeah, and what will I get in return?”
“Mmm, what exactly do you want?” I ask, lying down and spreading my legs.
I expect him to yank off my sweats and pin me down, but instead he leans over me and looks me in the eye. “Just your love, Quinn. I don’t need anything else.”
“You have it,” I say. “And no matter what happens to us, or whatever challenges we face, you always will.”
He takes my hand and holds it in his, rubbing my ring finger with his thumb. “I’ll work the rest of my life to make up for my mistakes and to show you I love you. I promise never to forget that all the joy in my life, I have because of you.”
Reed kisses me and reaches into my pants. His words echo as I close my eyes and open myself to bliss. There was a time I believed days like this would never come. Now I know they’ll never end.
—