Anna picked up her bag and adjusted the strap on her shoulder. “She’s going to be okay, Graham.”
I nodded absently, unconvinced. She might make it out virtually unscathed tonight, but what if this happened again?
I didn’t think there was anyone looking out for her. When I’d asked who to contact, I’d expected a parent or a sibling—but she’d given me no name. No one who would come for her.
Anna glanced back down the hallway toward my room as she turned to leave. “You should probably go check on her. Make sure that she’s comfortable and that she rests.”
I let out a harsh sigh, shaking my head. “That’ll be easier said than done. I’m not sure she knows the meaning of the word.”
Anna’s mouth thinned. “You’ll take care of her.” She gave a curt nod. “Just be careful with her. Maybe she’ll learn to trust you. You’re a good one, Graham.”
Shame and uncertainty burned in my core. I wasn’t sure that was true. I was probably the last person she should trust.
“I’ll do my best.”
She gave me a knowing look. “Don’t hesitate to call or text. Keep an eye on her breathing. If she develops shortness of breath, dizziness, or the bruising darkens too fast, bring her in immediately.”
My face paled, but I nodded. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“It shouldn’t, but you can contact me for anything. Let me know how she’s doing in the morning.”
With that, she headed to the door, giving a final wave before she left.
The house went still again in her absence.
I leaned against the counter, staring at Anna’s instructions until the words blurred.
I wasn’t sure what worried me more—the fact that Quinn had been attacked…or the realization that I care too much.
Iknockedonceonmybedroom door and was greeted by silence.
I waited, drumming my knuckles over the door, louder, a second time.
“Quinn?”
Still no answer.
A fresh wave of panic twisted my gut. I didn’t want to wake her if she’d fallen asleep—but something in the silence felt wrong.
I turned the knob and cracked the door open an inch at a time. “Quinn?”
The room was dim, the bedside lamp still on, throwing a warm pool of light across the unrumpled bed. My heart clenched. It was empty.
I shoved inside the room, my pulse leaping as I scanned the space.
I froze when I saw her.
She stood at the dresser, her work bag open on top of it; papers and folders were spread haphazardly over the top. Her hands shook as she sifted through them, eyes darting between the pages and the mirror hanging on the wall in front of her.
A deep ache unfurled within me. It wasn’t pity, but something heavier. Something like grief.
“Quinn.” I murmured her name, on the verge of desperation.
She didn’t react.
She stared at her own reflection. Her quaking hands crumpled the sheet of paper in her grip. Most of the blood had been cleaned from her lip and chin, but a stain of scarlet had seeped onto the front of her shirt.
I moved closer, measured and deliberate. “Quinn,” I tried again when I was only a step behind her.
