Sweet Ache

“Oh God, Q … I’m so sorry,” I sob into the curve of her neck, needing the reassurance of the heat of her skin against my lips. I reek of desperation, of need for this woman who can’t even hug me back because she is so busy holding up a blanket to cover up for the clothes my brother ripped off her.

The thought hits me hard now. What could have been. What might have happened. And so I keep murmuring to her over and over, again and again.

The world around us falls away. The cops asking to speak to me, the hands I shrug off me, the sounds of my brother calling my name, none of them register because what matters the most is in my arms and now I just hope I don’t lose her because of this, because of him. Because I’ve enabled him for so long he felt entitled to the one person I’ve ever allowed myself to begin to fall in love with.

Holy shit.

My grip loosens with the realization. My breath hitches. I swear that my mind misfires because the ingrained habit to push away, to deny this emotion tries to grab hold and doesn’t find purchase. Instead of finding a way to walk away, I just pull her even tighter into me.

I find an odd comfort in this moment. Not the hurt it has brought upon Quinlan, not the memories it will scar in both of us, but that after all of the shit of the past week, we’re clinging to each other rather than shoving each other away.

And fuck yes I’m pissed that Hunter robbed me of the innocence of this dawning moment. He may have forced it with his fucked-up actions, but he stole something good, something special from me by doing something so unforgivable.

Chapter 38

QUINLAN

I jolt awake in the darkness, the silence around me screaming with the remnants of my nightmare.

It takes me a few moments to acclimate myself in the unfamiliarity of my surroundings, but soon I pick up the scent of Hawkin’s cologne. My heart is pounding and my body aches as I shift in the luxurious bed, my mind reliving everything from earlier.

My skin crawls remembering the feeling of Hunter’s deceptive hands on me. I force myself to swallow down my feelings of stupidity, my guilt, for not connecting the dots earlier before the situation went as far as it did, shame riding rampant over me that I didn’t even know my own lover’s kiss. I chastise myself for the harshness, tell myself to grant me some leeway, because I did notice the irregularities but wrote them off as our disconnect given the circumstances.

My stomach churns as I think of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens if Hawkin hadn’t swooped in to save the day. It was like one moment I felt Hunter against me, fear holding me hostage, and then the next he was gone, the fear motivating me to flee. And as I did, as I reached for the closest thing to cover myself up, I heard a sound from Hawkin, one of pure, unadulterated rage. It stopped me in my tracks and I turned to watch Hawke not only vindicate me but I also saw years of emotions unleashed between the two of them. The brawl between two brothers, one trying to defend my honor from the one who tried to take it.

And then when all was said and done, when the police showed up and began to cuff Hunter on Vince’s directive, when I looked up to find Hawke, I was found. I never knew that such a simple statement could have so much meaning behind it but it’s true. Maybe it was the broken look on his face or the clarity in his eyes, but it was like he was seeing me in an all new light.

Change. Change brought on by force is not always a good thing, but for some reason I think this time, for Hawkin, it might just be what he needed to break free from the chains of his past.

I shift again, wincing from the pull on my battered muscles, and think of the look on Hawkin’s face as he watched them load his brother in the police cruiser, expressionless, disgusted, done. And then there were questions and statements for the police, and reassurances that I didn’t need to be seen by a medic, before I convinced them all that I was fine, would be fine, and just wanted a shower.

But Hawkin wanted me out of my house, wanted me at his place where he could watch over me until he got someone to put my house back to rights for me. And as tough as I acted, it was so nice to feel his strong arms around me, dragging me into the length of him, and drift off to the nightmares I knew awaited me while wrapped in his comfort.

But now I’m awake and cold. And I know I’m alone even before my hand hits chilled sheets when I reach out next to me. I groan softly as I push myself up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The night’s darkness is not so welcome anymore now that I’m alone. I reach down with another twinge of pain and pick up the first thing that my hands touch on the floor.

I slide Hawke’s T-shirt over my head and stop to hold the collar up to my nose and breathe him in. Use his scent to chase away the demons in my memories until I can find him in this maze of a house.

I know it won’t take long though because I have a feeling I know exactly where he’ll be.

I pad down the hallway and stairs, surprised but thankful that one of the guys isn’t still up somewhere at this god-awful hour, living up to his rock-star reputation. I reach the studio door and see the light through cracks around the jamb. A soft smile I can’t help plays on my lips, knowing that I was right, that I know him so well. That Hawkin turned to his one constant, his one true love, to deal with everything that happened today.

The hearing that went in his favor, the loss of his brother in a sense, and my assault. A lot of things for one man, who was already dealing with enough change to make most men buckle, to handle. Pressure can push only so far before one implodes.

I turn the knob slowly and stop immediately when the door cracks open, and I hear his melodic voice, scraped gravel worn smooth over velvet. I like to think I don’t want him to know I’m there just yet because I don’t want to disturb his work, but really it’s that listening to Hawke sing is as much a therapy for me as it is for him.