“I have to take this off. We’ll make a new one tomorrow.”
I try to hide how much every tiny movement hurts, but of course, nothing goes unnoticed by Quinton.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re not in pain. I know this hurts.”
“Did you ever break a bone? I never have before.”
“Yeah, a few times…” He trails off as he takes his clothes off and throws them to the front seat. “I broke my leg falling out of a tree once. I was climbing up to get my sister’s kite and slipped on the way down.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Quinton rarely shares anything about himself with me. It’s not the kind of thing we do, so hearing him talk about something personal leaves me pretty speechless.
When he has stripped down to his boxers, he twists around and leans over the backseat, looking through the trunk of the jeep. A moment later, he pulls a blanket out, and I almost rip it out of his hands. It looks scratchy and uncomfortable, but when you are half freezing to death, anything that offers warmth looks great.
Wrapping an arm around me, he holds me to his side and drapes the gray wool blanket around our bodies. I hate to admit it, but I cling to him. The warmth of his body blankets mine, and I shudder against him. The chill of the cold I’ve endured all day finally melts away, and the first slivers of warmth return to my body.
I lean my head against his shoulder, and he rests his on mine, bringing our bodies even closer together. There’s a lot of bad blood and misunderstanding between us, but out here, all of that seems to fizzle away. The chances of us dying now are slim since I know Xander will call for a search party for his son, even if no one else cares to come looking for me.
Still, I’d rather clear the air between us while I can, and maybe by the time we get back to Corium, we can somewhat describe our relationship as friends.
“I didn’t steal the bracelet from your sister,” I start, but he interrupts me.
“I know.” He sighs. “I mean, I didn’t know. Not until it was too late, and you were already on the helicopter, but I know now. That’s why I came for you. I owed it to you. You helped my sister. You were there for her, and I knew if I didn’t come out here and at least see if you had survived, I would have this on my conscience for the rest of my life.”
The response is more than I ever expected.
I take a deep breath. “So, you know she gave it to me as a gift? I was only trying to help her, make sure she was okay, and then she told me to take the bracelet. I planned to give it back to her; I still do.”
“Well, you won’t be able to do that anymore.”
There’s a coldness to his voice that wasn’t there moments ago, and I know it has to do with Adela.
“Why is that? Did you already send it back?”
I can feel a wall forming between us, and I don’t know how to stop him from building it up. “No… I don’t want to talk about it.”
I lick my dry lips, thankful that he didn’t pull away and leave me cold, even if he’s pulled away emotionally.
“I understand you were hurt; you thought I stole from your sister… but why did it have to be Matteo you sent after me? Did you really hate me that much?”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t send anyone after you.”
“You gave him your key card… he told me.”
“That fucking prick. What did he do?” The venom in Quinton’s voice is enough to strike fear in any man.
“He attacked me, came into my room, and told me he had a video of that night in the hall. He said you told him he could send it to whoever he wanted.” I try not to sound accusatory, but the thought ignites a fire of rage deep in my belly. Silence fills the cab of the truck, and all you can hear is our heavy breathing.
“I didn’t give him the key to your room.”
I don’t know why, but I believe him. He didn’t give Matteo access to my room, but he is not denying anything about the video. I probably should leave it alone and concentrate on staying warm, but I have to tell Quinton the whole story.
“You know it was Matteo that night at the fundraiser.”
Quinton’s whole body stiffens at my words, his arms tighten around me like a boa. “What did you just say?”
“Matteo was the guy who cornered Adela. I stopped him; that’s why he hates me so much… I mean, more than the rest of the school.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me earlier?” Quinton’s voice takes on a murderous tone, and I instantly regret telling him.
“I thought you knew,” I whimper. Quinton loosens his hold on me slightly, and I continue. “I didn’t know you and your father cared about your sisters like that. I didn’t think you would care. You know how most men in our world look at women. I didn’t know…” I truly didn’t. Most powerful men like Xander act like Matteo. They think women are to be owned, controlled, and fucked, nothing else.
“He’ll pay for that,” Quinton mumbles under his breath before the cab falls into silence.
We remain wrapped in each other’s arms, and my eyes drift closed. The exhaustion of everything that happened weighs heavily on my mind, yet I still can’t forget about Adela. Why can’t I give her the bracelet? And why didn’t she come to the founders’ ball?
I let out a defeated sigh and turn to burrow my face into Quinton’s side when I sense the stare of his eyes on me. Even in the dark, I can feel his gaze; it’s penetrating, intrusive, and inescapable. I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that because it makes me want to peel all my layers back and let him in, even while knowing he wouldn’t let me in.
“What happened, Q? What happened to your sister?” I ask, assuming he won’t tell me, but hoping he will.
After a brief pause, he sighs, and I can feel every single ounce of pain in his words. “She died.”
The confession slices through me, taking the air from my lungs. Dead? I’m not sure why I never thought that she was dead. Maybe because in the world we live in, the Rossi name is untouchable.
No one can hurt them, and no one tries.
“What do you mean, she died?” I whisper the question.
“She had leukemia. We tried everything possible to save her, but there just wasn’t… cancer doesn’t give a shit who you are, it just takes, and it took her, snuffed out her life before it could even be lived.”
All the pain I’ve felt over the last few weeks seems insignificant compared to the hurt in his voice. My heart breaks for him as I look at his handsome face draped in a darkness that only death can bring. I never realized how lost he looks until now.
It is all making sense. His need for control, his rage, and pain. He’s still grieving, and unfortunately, he found an outlet for all of it. I became his punching bag.
“I’m sorry, Quinton. I had no idea—”
“No one knows, and I expect you to keep your mouth shut about it. I’m only telling you because Adela obviously had a soft spot for you.”
“Of course. I would never tell anyone.”
“Good,” he growls, and I feel the vibration of his voice like a current rippling through my body. “Now, go to sleep. You need to build up your strength for tomorrow.”