Page 28

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DECOMPOSE WITH THE OTHER SKELETONS DOWN THERE

QUINN

I’m less sick than I anticipated, but still feel like I have sludge in my veins when I drag myself downstairs to answer the door.

I’m surprised to find Stu waiting on the other side. “Jack texted,” he frowns, looking me over and holding up a bag stuffed to the brim with various items. “I brought stomach virus necessities.”

I step out of the way and he slips by me, giving me a wide berth.

“Ugh, thank you. Just sit it on the island.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the closed door. I expect him to bolt, but he starts unloading the contents of the bag. “You don’t have to stick around, I’m not that sick.”

He waves me off and continues what he’s doing. “It’s fine. Have you tried to eat anything yet?” He shakes a container of what looks like egg drop soup, and I all but drool. Why is it the best thing ever for every illness?

I cringe. “No. I’m not sure I can yet.”

He turns and opens a cabinet and pulls out a bowl. “Well, you should at least try.” He jerks his head toward the living room. “Go sit down, I’ll heat this up and bring it to you.”

I hesitate for only a moment before doing as he asks. Jack genuinely has some of the best friends.

I left my phone on the nightstand, but don’t have the energy to climb the stairs again to grab it. “Hey,” I yell to the kitchen. “Could you text Jack to check on things? I left my phone upstairs.”

His face appears around the corner and he has a bowl of soup in one hand and his phone in the other. His eyes are on the screen, already busy typing up a text as he brings me the soup.

“On it. He was actually just texting me to check on you. I told him I’m pretty sure you have ebola and I’m not bothering to take you to the ER, just tossing you in the basement to decompose with the other skeletons down there. He said that was cool, just squeeze you into a corner since it's cramped.”

I roll my eyes, taking the bowl from him. “You’re ridiculous.” He just smirks, pocketing his phone. He looks more tired than usual and seems less himself. His playfulness seems more forced.

“Everything okay?” I ask, sipping the soup from the spoon. It’s hot as fuck but I can tell it’s just what my stomach needs. If I can keep it down.

He crosses one arm over his chest and scrubs a hand over the scruff on his face. “Yeah. Just tired.”

A wave of dizziness hits me out of nowhere and I shake my head to try and refocus my vision. The outline of him is blurry. I’ve never passed out before, but it feels like that might be what’s about to happen. I open my mouth to speak, and something comes out, but it’s not exactly the words my brain is trying to piece together.

“I’ve been up for literal days .” He takes a step closer to me and takes the bowl and spoon from my hand, placing it on the end table. “Watching these fucking cameras I lied about not having access to, waiting for you to pull out the wine I sent with Ezra. I really wanted the blame for that to be placed on Kruz since it seemed like she was the one who left it here. It would have been so much easier for me to take what I needed from your cooling corpse, but here we are.” He’s so nonchalant, but his words are only slightly registering in my brain because what the fuck?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and my head tips back against the couch cushion. I’ve lost all control of my movements and panic swirls inside me as everything goes dark.

“Just my luck that you’d take one diluted sip of it and puke your guts out immediately after.”