“I don’t know. We just don’t want anything to stress him.”
“What if he asks me? Michelle, I can’t lie to him.”
She considered my dilemma, no doubt comparing it to her own. “If you can sidestep the question, that’s preferred, but I trust you to do what you feel is right. I suspect you know him better than any of us nowadays, so maybe the truth needs to come from you… whenyouthink he’s ready.”
* * *
I considered Michelle’s words as I stood outside the unit, waiting for the go-ahead to see Quinn.
Maybe the truth needs to come from you.
The truth?
My stomach churned.
The truth was that nine people perished in the shooting before security guards wrestled the man down. Fifteen more were wounded, and scores were injured trying to escape.
The truth was the gunman worked for the arena. He’d had a grudge and a death wish and a desire to take as many with him as he could.
The truth was Wylder had been the target of the night, not Sketch Monsters, and it wasn’t anything Wylderhad done wrong either. They’d been marked for death simply because they were the headliners on the very night the gunman had decided to die.
The truth was the perpetrator only opened fire upon Sketch Monsters because he’d been spotted with a suspicious bag and security was moving in.
And the truth—the big horrible, terrible truth that Michelle did not want Quinn to know, but that I’d now been tasked to tell—was that not every member of Sketch Monsters had survived.
* * *
Quinn slowly opened his eyes, focusing on me.
“Hey, babe,” I said, stroking the back of his hand.
He didn’t speak, just blinked.
I leaned in to place a light kiss to his cheek. “I love you so much. I was so scared.”
“Who are you?”
I took a step back, shocked speechless. He didn’t know who I was? How could that be? His mom said he’d wanted to see me, that the first word out of his mouth had beenJess.
“You don’t remember?” I asked.
He blinked, no recollection in his gaze.
“I’m Jess. I’m your girlfriend.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. We live together. I have a son. His name is Noah.”
“You’re not my girlfriend,” he replied, his voice stronger and more determined now.
I stood my ground. “Yes, Quinn, I am.”
“No, Jess, you’re not. You’re my fiancée.” A grin broke across his lips.
I grabbed hold of the guardrail, my mouth agape.
Oh. My. God.
