Mara made a strange noise, and when I looked back at her, her mouth was set in a thin line.
“You okay?” I frowned.
She blinked at me, forcing a smile. “Yes.” She nodded. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”
“You should get some rest tonight. It’s been a crazy weekend.”
Her smile widened. “Right, I will. I’ll head straight up to bed when I close down the place.”
I nodded, starting to turn away. “Let me know if you need any help.”
I didn’t hear her answer, though, as I walked away, my mind shifting back to Quinn.
My chest eased a fraction when I rounded the shelf that hid the small table in the stacks of the study, and saw her sitting there. Of course she was there.
She sat still, staring down at her clasped hands.
I wasn’t sure why I expected her to be working on something. Maybe because I’d been conditioned to think so. She was always working, always focused and trying so damn hard.
My eyes moved over her—her shoulders hunched inward like she was resisting the urge to curl in on herself completely.
I took another step toward her, and though I didn’t make a single sound, her head snapped up, those pale eyes locking onto mine.
The breath left my lungs.
Her eyes were ice again—cold and hard. A chill crept down my spine. I’d thought I’d cracked that facade; thought I’d melted those crystalline walls she kept around herself—at least when it came to me. Hadn’t I earned that much?
“I’m so sorry,” I said, barely above a whisper. The surrounding shelves swallowed the sound, cocooning us in quiet. It felt like we were in our own world back here, the books acting like barriers to keep everyone else out.
Quinn stared at me, and I caught the faintest shifts in the expression she was trying so hard to hide.
“You don’t have to be sorry. You warned me. I knew I might not be able to stay.”
Her voice was flat. Icy. The chill spread from her lips into the air between us.
No, I wouldn’t let her disappear into herself again. Not with me.
I moved toward her with purpose. She must’ve seen something in my face, because she jerked to her feet in an instant. She stepped back, putting space between us like she needed the distance to breathe.
“Stop,” she said, voice sharp. “It’s fine, Graham. It really is. I understand.”
My jaw clenched. Understanding was one thing. I needed to know how she was feeling.
I wanted her honesty, not this empty, practiced resignation. Holding myself back, I stayed where I was, pinning her with my gaze.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit.”
She winced at my bluntness.
“Don’t push me away,” I said quietly, but firmly. “I know that I messed up, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you tonight.”
Quinn let out a breath, but she wasn’t giving up. “You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”
I moved then—so fast she had nowhere to go. Her back knocked against the shelf behind her. I reached for her and she flinched, but it didn’t stop me. Not this time.
