Sweet Ache

“Dude, you’re family … but I told him he wasn’t allowed in this courtroom. As much confidence I had with how well your seminar went, it was still a crapshoot, and the last thing I wanted was to give him a chance to gloat while you took the fall for him if it went to hell.”

I nod my head, the merry-go-round of emotions inside me on full throttle right now. One of the many burdens that’s weighed me down has been lifted permanently and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. Between Hunter and the promises to my dad and shaking this conviction, I feel so relieved. It’s like I’m floating on air. And with Quin wanting to talk, shit, I might just grow wings and fly soon.

“Man, let’s get the hell out of here,” Vince says from behind me, interrupting our conversation the same time I feel his hand patting me solidly on the back.

“You don’t have to ask me twice!” I tell him, ready to shed this stiff shirt and don one of my tees that’s sitting folded on the front seat of my car. Then it dawns on me, breaks through the fog of relief, that Quinlan texted me and wants to talk. Can my day get any better? “Dude, did you talk to Quin? What did she say?”

I see the shock flicker across Vince’s face before he narrows his eyes and shakes his head like he’s confused. “How’d you know?”

What? “How’d I know what?” Now I’m confused. What in the hell is he talking about?

“How’d you know I talked to her earlier?”

I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone all of a sudden, like we’re talking about two different things. “Because I told … uh …” I look over to Ben for the name of his aide.

“Steph,” he fills in for me and I can tell his interest is piqued, his eyes darting over his shoulder where she is speaking to an associate.

“Yeah, Steph. I had her give you my phone. Quin texted me. I wanted you to call her. So what did she say?” My sentences are short and clipped and I don’t care that I’m kind of being an ass because I don’t want to play games right now. I just want to walk the fuck out of the courtroom, which I don’t ever care to see the inside of again, and go find Quin so that we can move forward somehow after my monstrous fuckup.

When he just continues to stand there and look at me like I’m crazy, I hold out my hand. All patience is lost. “Fuck it. Just give me my phone.” I can tell Vince is getting irritated with me talking to him like he’s a dumbshit, but if he doesn’t want to be treated like one, he shouldn’t act like one.

“I don’t have your phone, Play. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Unease begins to settle in the far reaches of my mind, and I’m brimming with frustration when Ben beckons Steph over. I can see the worry flicker over her expression as she approaches the three of us, who are focused solely on her.

“Yes?” I can hear the trepidation in her voice, the fear that she’s done something wrong in her new job.

“Hawke’s phone? Where is it?” Ben asks, tone stern.

Her eyes shift to mine and then back to Ben’s. “I don’t have it. I gave it to his brother in the hallway—”

“Oh fuck!” It’s the only word that can express the dread that explodes through me right now. That and the mix of adrenaline as I’m rushing out of the courtroom like a man on a mission the minute everything registers: the possibilities, my fears, my brother’s anger, his never-ending need to sabotage my life.

The problem is I’ve pushed him to the brink, cut off funding when I never have before, and so I fear just how he’ll lash out this time.

I push through the crowd of reporters, not stopping, not worrying what an ass they are going to make me out to be in their reports. That’s the least of my worries. They trail after me, shouting my name, hoping for the big scoop as I head toward the parking garage. I don’t have to look to know Vince is right beside me. He always is.

It’s what’s waiting for me at Quinlan’s house that worries me the most.

Chapter 36

QUINLAN

Our lips meet, and I expected the softness of the kiss, but not the tears that burn the back of my eyes as emotion overwhelms me that we’re going to try to work this out. I knew I was falling for him, hell I might even acknowledge that the L-word has crossed my mind in all of its ludicrousness, but I don’t think I understood how much I missed him until right now with his lips against mine, the warmth of his breath hitting my face, and possibility stretched out before us.

The kiss is gentle at first, the taste of alcohol on his tongue as it softly meets mine. I scoot farther into him, my knee now against his groin, and place my hands on his thighs. He reaches out and cups my chin, fingers directing the angle of the kiss in a way he hasn’t before, and I hate the fact that for a split instant I wonder if he’s been with someone else. That simple streak of feminine jealousy tarnishes this moment until I push it away, but I can’t help but feel that the way we are normally perfectly in sync with each other is slightly off.

I try to forget the thought, try to lose myself in the desire simmering in our kiss, and hate that the irrefutable chemistry that usually lights me on fire when we touch seems muted in a sense. And normally his bad-boy demeanor would be one helluva turn-on, but after the shit we’ve gone through the past couple of days, it’s not. Greed is a turn-on when it’s the hunger of a kiss overtaking you in your need for another, but when it’s used to overshadow the amends you need to make, it doesn’t do anything for me.