Page 149

“Tell me I didn’t see what I think I saw on TV?” I press.
His eyes leave the road for a second. The black shadows have multiplied. “I’m not into anyone else, Elyse. Right now, you’re the only thing I want.”
Right now. What about last week? What about next week?
The words stick in my throat. I remind myself I don’t have any rights here.
“You can’t live like this, Quinn.” Whatever’s going on, it’s taking a dangerous toll on him.
I’m surprised when he nods. “It’ll be over soon.” They’re more than just words. They’re a dark, solemn pledge that vibrates through the car.
My breath shudders out and I nod in return. “Okay. Then, whatever you need, I’m here.”
His chest rises and falls in a deep exhale. He turns the music back up and shoves his foot on the gas. We fly up interstate highways and eventually emerge into the countryside. In the late afternoon sun, spring colors bloom. The roads are relatively traffic-free, and Quinn’s smooth driving lulls us both into calmer states.
An age later, I see signs for the Catskills. We stop for an early dinner at a local pub. Conversation is light and limited, but Quinn remains attentive, his gaze running over me several times as we eat.
After we’re done, we head back to the car. He kisses me before I get back in, and my hand returns to his thigh as we drive deeper into the Catskills.
Alpine countryside and historic B&Bs whizz by as the Mercedes eats up the miles.
Eventually, he pulls to a stop in Catskills Park. When he leaves the car, I follow. We hike a short distance to a still lake. Quinn shoves his hands into his pockets, walks off by himself, his shoulders hunched as he stares into the water.
I want to hug him, but the vibes he’s throwing off make me keep my distance. After about ten minutes, he retraces his steps to me.
“My mother loved it here,” he says without looking up from the lake. “When she wanted to get out of the city, we would drive up here, spend the night at a B&B and return home in the morning. Just me and her.”
My heart squeezes at the raw anguish in his voice. “That must have been special for you.”
“Yes. I thought so.”
I frown at the odd note. “You don’t think it was for her?”
He shrugs. “I wish she would’ve trusted me.”
“With what?”
He looks at me and his eyes are terrifying again. “Enough to tell me why she needed to escape. Enough to let me save her.”
“How…from what?”
“From him. From Maxwell.”
Shock stabs me. “Your father?”
He doesn’t respond. His face turns desolately bleak and he stares back at the water. After five harrowing minutes pass, I give in to the urge and hug him.
He stiffens and pushes away from me so violently, I stumble.
He immediately curses and lunges toward me. “Elyse, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…”
I hold out my hands and dive out of his reach, my heart hammering. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
His hands ball into fists, and his chest rises and falls in ragged breaths. We stare at each other for a fistful of heartbeats, then I slowly hold out my hand.
He takes it, clenches his fingers tight around mine, and we walk back to the car. We drive around a little more and end up outside a quaint, centuries-old white and blue clapboard house with a B&B sign on the outside.
Quinn parks on the curb and looks broodily at the property.