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“Babe.”

Shit. I had forgotten all about the man standing behind me in the open doorway.

I had to clear my clogged-up throat twice before I could force out one word.

“Yeah,” I croaked.

“Are you alright?” Quinton asked me in a kind, gentle voice.

No. Absolutely not.

I closed my eyes. I had told him I didn’t want lies between the two of us, yet I did not want to answer his question honestly. I couldn’t do that to him, though. Not after all my crap about honesty. If I expected it out of him, then he certainly deserved it out of me.

“No,” I croaked out. “I am not okay.”

Boy, it was a whole lot harder than I would have imagined to push those words out past the massive lump currently taking up residence in my throat. I would tell you it felt good to get those words out, but that would be a big, fat lie.

I heard him as he entered the bathroom and made his way towards me.

The only thing I saw in the mirror was my big green eyes, my demons dancing right at the surface for all to see. I desperately wished I knew how to mask them from others, so I didn’t come off as damaged goods at first eye contact.

Big, warm hands gripped my shoulders from behind as Quint leaned into my back. He rested his chin against the side of my head as his dark eyes met my green ones in the mirror.

Quinton met my eyes without flinching this time. I should have been happy and relieved because of this. I felt nothing of the sort.

“What do you see when you look at me?” I asked him.

Immediately, I regretted asking the question out of fear I wouldn’t like his answer.

What I really wanted to ask him, what I wasn’t brave enough to ask him, was whether or not he found me ugly, but I hadn’t been able to force those words out.

Quinton’s hands dropped away from my shoulders and he wrapped his arms around my chest. His eyes met mine in the mirror.

“You don’t already know?” he murmured.

I shook my head. How would I have known if he’d never told me before? And why would I ask a question if I already had an answer for it? Wouldn’t that be a waste of time?

“How can you not know?”

I frowned. “Because you’ve never told me?”

“Babe, it’s obvious.”

Now he was starting to piss me off. I wasn’t in the mood to pry an answer out of him or get into a verbal tussle with him.

I tried to pull away from him, but his arms tightened almost to the point of pain. I wasn’t going anywhere, and I knew it. I gave up the struggle before I ever really started.

“What do I see when I look at you? Hmmm…” His voice took on a teasing tone. “Well, I see this crazy girl. She has really big hair in the mornings. Like, we’re talking,” he unwrapped his arms from my body and held them out wide at his sides, “biiigggg. Don’t you worry, though, I think it’s hot. Not sure if the other guys are going to be into it. I bet Damien gets you some kind of hair care product that reduces volume. Then again, he might surprise us and be less of a dick with you than he’s been with other chicks. One can hope. And, sometimes you can get this look. I don’t know how to describe it, but I’m thinking it’s the face you make right before you blow.”

“Excuse me?” I muttered angrily as he wrapped his arms back around my chest. I was amazed that I could stand there in a towel and not be uncomfortable with him wrapped around me. “I do not… blow. Whatever that means.”

“Babe. You threw a rock at my head.”

I was never going to hear the end of that horrible rock business. One bad decision and I was in for a life sentence. Wasn’t that a bitch.

“You tried to burn Marcus’s house down.”

I sighed. That was a gross exaggeration. Accidently light one shoe on fire with your magic and suddenly you’re a pyromaniac. I didn’t even own a damn lighter or a book of matches for goodness sake.