Saving Quinton (Nova #2)(57)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

I force myself to be positive. “Just wait. I’ve got a whole lot more niceness for you that you haven’t even seen yet,” I say, playfully nudging him with my foot.

He shakes his head, but fights back a smile, his honey-brown eyes flickering with a hint of life, and the sight makes me want to throw my arms around him and hold on to him—hold on to the life I see there in his eyes. “How about we go sit in your car and talk?”

I work to keep my arms to my sides and nod, pushing myself to look past all the problems around me, even though it feels like maybe I shouldn’t—that maybe I’m the one who needs to open her eyes. “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

* * *

I’m not sure how much crystal he did, but by the time we make it to the car a burst of energy kicks in and his talking goes into hyper mode. “So how are you liking Vegas?” he asks as we climb into my car, parked in the parking lot in front of his house.

It’s such a formal question that it takes me a moment to answer. “Good, I guess.”

I get comfortable in the seat, rolling down the window and letting the warm air in as he tips his head back against the headrest. “Have you done anything fun?”

I scoot my seat back a little so I can stretch out my legs “I went to the Strip the other night.”

“I hear it’s intense.” He rubs his eyes and then blinks as he gazes up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, lots and lots of lights and people…do you go down there ever?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s not really for me.” His eyes land on me and through the dark I can almost pretend that he’s sober. “Too many people.”

“You don’t seem to like the city,” I note, rotating in my seat to face him. “Yet you live here and you used to live in Seattle, which is pretty big, isn’t it?” I tense when I feel him tense, worried that maybe bringing up Seattle wasn’t the best thing.

But he relaxes. “Yeah, but cities haven’t always bothered me.”

“What changed?”

“Me,” he says, scratching at his arm where I know his tattoos are hidden. “I just decided I like the quiet…I already have too much noise in my head and the last thing I need to do is add more.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“I’m here because I have nowhere else to go.”

“Not even back to Seattle.” I hope I’m not about to break the thin ice I’m already walking on.

“I’ll never go back to Seattle,” he replies disdainfully, cracking his neck and then his knuckles. “There’s too many f**king memories there.”

It grows quiet as he stares at the building in front of us with a contemplative look on his face, like he’s considering if he wants to bail out and go back in. Before he can, I take the opportunity to say something that I hope doesn’t make him angry, that I hope makes him understand that I understand him more than he thinks I do.

“You know, I used to feel that way about Maple Grove,” I divulge. “Especially since it’s where my boyfriend died. His house was actually across the street…” I swallow the lump in my throat, preparing myself to say the one thing I’ll always hate saying aloud. “Where I found him…after he…well, he took his own life.”

Silence stretches by. I hear cars whizzing by on the streets. Their headlights illuminate the rearview mirror.

“I’m sure that had to be hard for you,” he utters quietly, his breath becoming ragged.

“It was really hard,” I admit. “Especially because I blamed myself for his death.”

He turns his head toward me with his brows furrowed. “Why would you blame yourself over that? He chose to do it. You didn’t make him.” He pauses, composing his erratic breath.

“Yeah, but at the same time, I saw signs that I sort of ignored because I was afraid to admit they existed. Afraid he’d get mad at me…I was afraid of a lot of things and I’ll always regret that fear probably for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, but even if you weren’t afraid and you said something to him,” he says, not looking at me but staring over my shoulder out at the darkness, “it doesn’t mean things would have happened differently. He still might have decided it was time to let go.”

“Yeah, but I’d at least be able to sit here and say that I did everything I could.” I press a point that feels really important now. “That I didn’t give up before it was over.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?” He looks at me. I think he’s aiming to be rude, but his uneven voice gives away that he’s getting emotional.

“Maybe,” I tell him honestly. “Does that make you afraid?”

He shakes his head, holding my gaze. “No, because I know you’re just wasting time.”

“I don’t agree with you.” I refuse to blink away from his intense gaze. “No time is wasted when you’re trying to help someone.”

He’s baffled by my words, his lips parting as he scratches his head. “So what? You’re going to continue to hang out at this place in the hopes that you’re going to save me?” He gestures at our surroundings. The neighborhood has started to come to life, people standing outside on the stairway of the building, walking around the front. “You really want this to be your life? Because even I sometimes hate it. Plus, it’s dangerous and you shouldn’t even be hanging out here.” He falters over his words like he didn’t mean to let the last part slip out. “But I deserve it. You don’t.”

“Well, I don’t have to stay here all the time,” I say, getting an idea as I start up the engine. “No one does. Everyone has a choice of where they want to be. You. Tristan, especially after seeing what that Trace guy did to him.”

“Tristan will be fine…I’m taking care of him.” He slides back in the seat.

“Are you sure? Because I can help—”

He cuts me off. “I’m not letting you get involved in this shit, so drop it, Nova.”

“Okay…but I just want you to know that I’m here if you need anything.”

“I know that.” His expression softens. “And I want you to know that I don’t want you getting involved in anything that’s part of this.” He gestures at the apartment building. “I want you safe.”