SOMETHING LIKE REDEMPTION (Something Like Normal #2)

One-2

“How long for?”

“Just a night,” Quinn says, pulling out his wallet.

Reaching for her silver-rimmed glasses from where they’re tangled in her wiry gray hair, she perches them on the tip of her skinny nose and begins tapping away on a computer.

“Two single beds or a double?” she asks, looking at the screen.

“Double,” Quinn says

I say, “Single.”

We reply at the same time, which is not at all awkward.

Quinn glares at me, his nostrils flaring slightly, and when we’re asked again, double or single, he replies, “Double,” without breaking eye contact with me.

I lower my eyes, unable to maintain contact. I know I’m being a total b***h to him, but I have no other choice.

“You’re in room 14. And no pets,” she barks, curling her lip. “I saw you pull up with that dog.”

She didn’t dare refer to Lucky in such a derogatory manner, did she?

I lean forward, bracing my hands on the counter and getting into her personal space while she leans back nervously. “The only dog around here is yo—”

But I’m rudely cut off by Quinn when he yanks on my arm, talking over me.

“Thanks,” he says quickly while grabbing the key card and escorting me out the door.

“Let me go!” I demand, attempting to shake myself free. But it’s pointless, as Quinn drags me toward our room without loosening his grip.

My boots drag on the gravel as I attempt to kick my heels in, but I have no doubt Quinn will drag me, kicking and screaming if need be, so I let him lead me. He unlocks our door and hurls me into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The walls rattle with the force, and I know he’s pissed.

“What is the matter with you?” he shouts, dropping our bags onto the carpet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I smugly reply, sitting on the end of the bed.

“Bullshit, you don’t,” he huffs, stalking over to me, his huge frame dwarfing mine. “You do remember we’re on the run, right? Trying to keep a low profile is kind of imperative. But you insulting everyone you come across is not really low-profile material.”

He drops to his knees, crouching in front of me.

“I know this is hard, but…”

“I’m going to take a shower,” I snap, standing up and stepping around him, as I’m in no mood for a lecture or pep talk.

Nothing he says will change the fact that Hank is dead, and Tristan is hurt, and it’s all my fault.

“Red!” I slam the bathroom door shut, wishing I could do the same with Quinn.

But somehow, I don’t think it’ll be that easy.

So this is what guilt feels like.

Staring at my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror, I have an urge to smash my fist through the glass, shattering the appearance before me because I hate what I see.

I have destroyed so many people’s lives—good people.

I’d do anything to trade places with Hank because he deserves to be alive, not me. As for Quinn, he deserves to be free. And I plan on setting that one thing right because that’s the only thing I can control.

“Red?” Quinn knocks softly. “Everything okay?”

I sigh. He should hate me for everything I’ve done. But he doesn’t.

But he will.

“I’m fine, Quinn. I’ll be out in a minute.”

With my hands braced on the edge of the sink, I take a deep breath, needing a sea of courage for what I have planned. I step out wearing my pj’s. I’m beat and want to catch up on a little sleep before I make good on my plan.

However, all plans of sleep are thrown out the window when I see Quinn slumped forward on the end of the bed, head cradled in his hands, his foot tapping frantically.

“Quinn?” I ask, rushing over to him, my heart in my throat.

As he lifts his head, his bright emerald eyes peek out from under his long, messy bangs. “He’s going to be okay,” he says, a breath leaving his chest in a whoosh of relief.

“Oh, thank God.”

Quinn nods, holding up Tabitha’s iPhone.

“Abi just texted. Said it was a close call, but he’s just come out of surgery and the doctor said he’s going to be fine.”

I step toward Quinn, embracing him.

He wraps his warm arms around my waist and presses his head to my belly. We stay this way for a while, both needing the comfort of this connection.

And I need it because it’ll be the last time I hug him.

I’m trying to feign sleep while Quinn is in the shower because tonight is when I make things right. Knowing that Tristan will be okay is a small weight lifted off my shoulders, but it’s still not enough.

When I hear the shower switch off, I shut my eyes, hoping sleep will be kind to me—but it’s not. My eyes snap open, and no matter how tired I am, I don’t think I will ever be able to get a sound night’s sleep ever again.

Quinn strolls out of the bathroom, switching off the lights. It’s dark out, so the only light illuminating the room is from a dim streetlight just outside our window. I beg my eyes to shut, but as soon as they fall onto Quinn’s bare, chiseled chest, they do the opposite and open wider. He’s a work of art, which is funny, considering he’s the artist.

I’ve seen his work, and it should be hanging in a gallery somewhere. I think about the sketchbook he showed me all those nights ago and remember the sketch of Hank. His kind gray eyes came alive onto paper, Quinn capturing him perfectly.

But now, I’ll never see his light ever again.

I don’t realize I’m crying until Quinn slips under the covers and pulls me against his warm chest.

“Shh,” he soothes while brushing the tendrils of hair off my face that are sticking to my fallen tears. “It’ll be okay.”

This just makes me cry harder because it’ll never be okay. But I allow this one moment of vulnerability because there will be no more after it.

I can’t stop the avalanche of tears, and when Quinn pulls away, kissing them softly, more follow in their place. His lip ring caresses my cheeks, sending chills down my spine, and a warmth pools in my belly.

He senses my desperate need to wash away this hollowing pain and softly pulls my lips toward his, kissing me with a deep longing. I moan the moment my lips meet his, tangling with his tongue as he slips it into my welcoming mouth. His barbell gets me so hot, and as our tongues move wildly, devouring each other, the cool metal piercing only adds to the pleasure of kissing Quinn.

Before long, we’re pulling at one another frantically as the space between us, which is mere inches, is too far. Quinn hitches up my leg, wrapping it around him, and slides me onto him with ease.

As I lean up on my knees, my hair comes loose, sheltering us from the real world. Our lips move frantically, trying to kiss away the events that led us here, as we both want to feel anything but pain, and for now, this is the best distraction.

Before I leave him, however, I want to touch him…taste him in the flesh—just once. I quickly break the kiss, my teeth tugging at his lip ring and sucking it into my mouth with a soft pull. Planting soft kisses down his chin, his light stubble tickles my lips, and I can’t help myself as I bite down on his strong jaw.

“f**k,” he hisses, his hands squeezing my waist firmly while his body shivers from my assault.

Knowing I can draw this response from him turns me on because God knows he does so for me. I may be a virgin, but I do know what desire and want is, and I know I want and desire Quinn.

I’ve seen Quinn lost to passion, and it’s a sight that has been burned into my brain for an eternity. Quinn engages in that how he does with everything else in his life—with dominance and complete control.

Kissing lazily down his chest, I trace the tattoo he has inked down his side as I latch onto his left n****e, sucking the piercing into my mouth with a deep, long drag.

Quinn curses, then exhales loudly, and his hands move down to my ass, squeezing feverishly. I want into his pants, but I’m scared since I’ve never touched him in the flesh before. And under the thin material of his sweatpants, I can feel his hard-on.

My hands slowly slide down his defined abs and are just about to slip under the waistband of his sweats when his fingers still mine. I look up to meet his wild green eyes.

“You’ve got plenty of time for that, Red,” he says, his hands slowly resting at the small of my back. “We should get some sleep.”

Chewing on my lip, I feel rejected and shyly shift off his body, embarrassed I have done something wrong. But his large hand grasps my hip and the other clutches the back of my neck, stilling me.

“I want you. Don’t think that I don’t.”

“Then why did you stop me?”

“Not now. Not like this,” he replies, his clever eyes watching me closely.

I understand his reasoning, but I begrudgingly slip off him, turning onto my side, feeling heated and unsatisfied. Quinn slides in behind me, slipping his hands around me and cradling me to his chest.

“Good night, Red,” he whispers, kissing my neck, his exhaustion apparent in his voice.

“Good night, Quinn,” I reply, closing my eyes as a silent tear slips down my cheek, afraid of what comes next.

I wake, checking the clock to see how much time has passed. Four hours of sleep is pretty good for me, seeing as I usually rouse from a nightmare, dripping in a cold sweat.

But tonight, I haven’t dreamed, and I know it’s because I’m wrapped in Quinn’s arms.

I look upon his face, his chest rising and falling softly, his sinful lips parted. The slight exhalations he’s taking lull me back to sleep, but as I tenderly brush back wisps of dark hair off his brow, I chew the inside of my cheek to stop the tears because I know it’s time.

Slipping out of bed silently, I shrug into my jeans and tee, which lie on the carpeted floor near me. Reaching for my backpack and pulling out the money I withdrew, I place it all onto the kitchen table and then creep toward the front door. Grabbing Quinn’s black hoodie off the back of the sofa, I pause when I hear him stir.

As his light breathing starts up again, I let out a deep breath and continue. My boots are by the door, and I bend low, picking them up without a sound. With a muted mouthful of air, I give Quinn one last look, my heart breaking with the departure as I shut the door behind me.

I slip Quinn’s hoodie on, tucking in my hair, wanting to shroud as much of myself as possible. I walk away quickly, trying to make my exit as speedy and as quiet as possible. However, I’m glad no one can hear my beating heart because it would wake the whole damn neighborhood.