He stiffens, but not in the way I hope. “I can’t. Graham…” Turning, he stares down to where our bodies touch and chokes back a sob. “You know I don’t go outside. Only to the dumpster, and even then…there are days I can’t.”
“Look at me, baby. Please?” I won’t force him. Not to meet my gaze, not to go outside, not to do anything, and I desperately need him to understand that. “Quinton?”
Slowly, he raises his head, and his shame breaks my heart. “I’m not disappointed, not mad. It’s just me in an SUV for three hours with a five minute stop. I thought it might be easier if you didn’t have to be among people. If it were just the two of us.”
Q’s shaking now, and I turn him so the spray hits his back. With a shuddering breath, he buries his face in the curve of my neck. “It’s still leaving the only place I feel safe. Before…Alec, I could go to a quiet bar or have a drink with friends. But he shrank my world down to nothing.”
“How?”
Q flinches and pulls away, grabbing the shampoo and vigorously washing his hair. I think I’ve lost him until the words start to tumble from his lips so quickly, like he’s trying to get them all out before he shuts down.
“Little things. Digs that my apartment was too small, it was too hard to find parking, so we always went to his place. He never let me pick when we ordered takeout. He’d put down my friends—not to their faces, but to me—and he never wanted to hang out with them. After a few months, I was so alone, and I thought…he convinced me…that I needed him. That he was the only one who understood me.”
“Fuck, Q. That’s straight up abuse. You know that, right?”
The look he shoots me over his shoulder makes me feel all of three inches tall. “No shit. But that’s what abusersdo.And Alec…it got so much worse than that.”
There’s only one way it could possibly be worse.
“Did he hit you?”
“No. Never.” He slumps against the shower wall, his eyes closed. “Ever heard the term gaslighting?”
Warning bells go off in my head. Images of Ripper in the days after we rescued him. Ry used the term a time or two. “Yeah. It’s making you doubt your own judgment, right?”
“Not exactly.” After a shuddering breath, he swipes a sudsy trail of shampoo from his forehead. “Gaslighting is when an abuser makes you question your own sanity.” He returns to scrubbing his hair like he’s trying to scour the memories from his head, and I gently cover his hands with mine. This strong, brave, man crumbles in my arms, hoarse, choking sobs wracking his body, and I hold him so he won’t fall. The water’s starting to cool by the time he gets it all out, and I ease him out of the shower and wrap him in a towel before drying myself off and leading him back to the bed.
Q huddles under the blankets shivering while I sit next to him. I’m ready to tell him he doesn’t need to say another word when he clears his throat. “Alec doesn’t feel emotions like normal people do. No remorse, no guilt, no compassion. Life is one biggameto him. One he always has to win. And I tried to leave him, but after I fell…”
Another wave of tears and he curls onto his side. Clementine wedges herself under his chin, and I take my own position at his back so I can hold him.
“Howdidyou get out?” I ask when his sobs fade.
“My brother. If it weren’t for Connor…” He swipes at his cheeks, brushing away the tears, and buries his face in Clementine’s fur. “Alec took everything from me. And now, I don’t know how to find myself again.”
I’d give anything to reassure him. To tell him he’s already found himself in so many ways, taken back so much of his life. But instead, I say nothing. Just hold him so he knows he’s not alone.
* * *
An hour later,he flips open the locks one at a time. He’s tense. Has been ever since he told me about Alec, but I at least got him to smile when I found one of Clementine’s toys and had her leaping and doing backflips as she chased a ball with a bell inside.
The morning sun brightens his front porch, and the way he’s looking at it—the longing in his eyes—it breaks me. “How far can you go?” I ask softly, my hand clasped around his.
“Two steps. Just to the mailbox.”
“In three, you’d be in the sun.” I cross the threshold, still holding his hand, our arms outstretched. “I’d like to kiss you in the sun. But only if you want that too.”
Q’s lips press together in a hard, thin line. I expect him to shake his head, but before I can return to his side to say goodbye to him properly,hejoinsme.
His breath stutters in his chest, and I rest my free hand over his heart. “You can do this, baby. One more? Together?”
His nod does something to my heart. I can’t describe it, except to say it’s warm and reassuring andright.
We move as one, and when the sun hits his face, the corners of his lips tug up slightly. Sliding my hand from his chest up to his neck, I thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him so thoroughly, my dick rockets to attention, straining against my zipper.
He’s breathless too by the time my phone buzzes in my pocket. Likely West wondering where the hell I am and why I haven’t picked up Hidden Agenda’s SUV yet. “I have to go,” I say against his lips. “And I have to cover for one of the other bartenders at the Unicorn for the next two nights. But I want to see you again. Soon.”
Q rests his forehead against mine. “I’d like that.”
