Quinn didn’t want to show up at August’s house looking like a mess, so he took the prescribed anxiety medication that he kept in his car before he got on the road. It wasn’t strong enough to fuck up his cognitive function, and Quinn rarely used it anymore, but it helped take the edge off. That was something he needed right now.
But when he knocked on the door and tall, dark and handsome Harrison Killinger opened it with a scowl, he wished he had doubled his dose.
“Thank fuck,” said Harrison, ushering Quinn inside—nearly yanking him by the arm to get him over the threshold. “There was about to be a kidnapping at the arena if Jett couldn’t convince you to get your ass over here.”
Despite Harrison’s unfriendly appearance, Quinn could hear true concern in his tone. And the fact that Harrison washereand not coaching his team spoke volumes.
Quinn removed his jacket and boots, looking around for any sign of August, and found none. “Where—”
“Upstairs,” said Harrison. “He’s in the bathroom because he can’t keep anything down. I’m making a broth soup and sandwiches for later if you can get him to eat, but I’ll leave you guys alone for the night. I’ll be downstairs if you need me, so don’t worry about feeling like you have to stay if you want to leave.”
Any last apprehension melted away at Harrison’s words, and Quinn let out a relieved breath. “Thank you for this—for trusting me with him.”
Harrison folded his arms. “Thank you for trustingyourselfwith him. I know what it took for you to come here tonight. Surrendering logic to emotions fucking sucks.”
Harrison walked away without a goodbye or an explanation, jabbing a finger in the direction of the stairs.
Go to August.
Quinn didn’t have to be told twice.
He took the steps as fast as he could, not giving himself time to think about what he might find and headed straight for August’s room. The bed was empty, but it didn’t take long to spot him on the bathroom floor, wrapped in all the missing blankets.
August was lying on his side in front of the toilet, cradling a bucket in case he didn’t make it to his knees fast enough. The lights were off, but Quinn could see just fine with the bedroom door open. He could see how pale and sickly August looked, and the bloody towels and tissues spread around him. He could see his cheeks were flushed, and that he had a wet facecloth over his eyes to ease the ache of his migraine.
Quinn could also see that August wasnotokay like Niko had told him.
“August?”
He waited, but August didn’t stir. Quinn couldn’t even tell if he wasbreathing.
“Hey,” Quinn whispered, keeping quiet so he didn’t hurt August’s head. “I know you don’t want me here, but I came anyway.”
A muscle flexed in August’s jaw, and Quinn watched his breathing turn heavy before he spoke.
“I don’t know if you’re real or not, but either way, you should go.”
Real or not?
This wasn’t the first time August had said something like this. The first time had been in the hotel room the night Quinn propositioned him, and he brushed it off because he thought August was sleepwalking.
Quinn knelt and gently touched his face, so August could feel for himself that he wasn’t a ghost, illusion or whatever else his mind was conjuring.
August shuddered, and fresh blood dripped from his nose, turning his breathing bubbly. His calloused hands left the folds of the blanket to take Quinn’s, pressing it to his face like his touch was as soothing as a balm.
“Quinn, please leave,” August croaked. “You can’t see me—not like this. I’ve already been too much of a burden.”
He would have been a burden had their relationship stayed true to their contract. Quinn hadn’t signed up for illness and…whatever this was.
But it was a good thing he didn’t care anymore.
“Our agreement ended when I realized you broke the only rule I gave you,” said Quinn. “I’m here because I want to be, so lift the blanket and let me in, August. I need to take care of you before I lose my goddamn mind.”
August didn’t move when Quinn asked, but his breath hitched, his bottom lip starting to tremble. When Quinn lifted the cloth from his eyes, his own heart stuttered at the sight of tears slipping free and running down August’s cheeks.
August, who had never cried—who had always held an air of uncaring numbness at times—was blinking at him with big blue eyes, looking like a lost and terrified little boy.
“Oh, baby.” Quinn fell into August’s arms the moment he opened them, his heart shattering into a million pieces when August hugged him and sobbed into his neck. “What’s wrong? Please tell me what happened.”
