No judgment. He understood. My fingers mingled with his. “The thought did occur to me.”
“Were you at least close to your father?”
“I was as a child—preferred him over my mother—but my dad had an alcohol and drug problem, making him a very unstable force. And he just got progressively worse as I got older. He couldn’t hold a job. There were times he’d leave our apartment and be gone for a week or more, and I’d be all alone. I never told anyone because I didn’t want them to take me away.”
“That had to be hard on you.”
“It was. When I was seventeen, my dad went into rehab. Mom refused to take me in while he was away. She told the social worker that she was concerned I’d be a bad influence on her new daughter… the one she’d had with the rich guy. Anyway, I was hanging with the wrong crowd. Pissed at my mom. It was a perfect storm. My friends and I stole a bunch of stuff. Hawked it. Got arrested. I went to juvenile hall, which, on the bright side, solved my housing problem...”
I paused, realizing I was rambling, and instantly shut down. What had I been thinking, spilling my messy history to Quinn? That wasnevera first date revelation. And now I’d left myself open and exposed, his to judge as he pleased. “This is the part where you run,” I whispered.
His eyes caught mine… and there was no horror in them, no indication he couldn’t get away fast enough. “Now why would I do that?”
“Because you prefer uncomplicated women.”
He considered my words a moment before responding. “At this moment… I prefer you.”
His admission ranked up there with one of the most unexpected moments of my life. Unbidden, a spark of hope flared. I’d only dared dreamed of finding a man who not only accepted me for who I was now but also sympathized with the messed-up girl I once was. Of course, Quinn was only getting the first half of my story. If I didn’t lose him in part one, there was still part two to scare the boy away.
“And just so you know, I’m not that girl anymore.”
He nudged his shoulder into mine. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m not fragile, Jess. Far from it. And my childhood wasn’t picture-perfect either. In fact,terrifyingis the adjective I most often use to describe it.”
Quinn watched for a reaction, waiting. For what? How was I supposed to respond? People didn’t use that word to describe a death in the family or a bankruptcy or a drug-addicted dad who got them kicked out of their home. No, people used the wordterrifyingin relation to their childhood when they’d been traumatized by some major event.
“What happened?”
The muscle in Quinn’s jaw tightened. Whatever he was hiding still had him in its grips.
“You shoulda googled me,” he said, pushing off the wall and rising to his feet.
As he turned his back on me, I took the opportunity to mouth my complete and utter shock at his admission. Was this guy’s life story in the public domain? “Are you saying if I googled you, I would’ve discovered your secret?”
“See, that’s the thing, Jess. It isn’t a secret.” He turned around to face me. “All you need to know is just one tiny piece of my puzzle, and then everything about me will fall right into place.”
WTF?The intrigue was killing me. I had half a mind to pull out my phone on the spot, but one glance at Quinn’s fiery expression stopped me. This wasn’t a tabloid story to him. This was his life, and whatever had happened to terrify him during his childhood still had a hold of him today.
I rose to my feet, offered my hand, and whispered, “You want more?”
I wasn’t sure if Quinn cared to know more about me, but he didn’t hesitate to grab my hand. He trusted me. And something told me he didn’t extend that privilege to just anyone.
We walked toward the back of the castle where it narrowed and offered a more compact and protected place to sleep. Nick and I had used it for other things too, but that was a discussion for another time. Or not. I crouched down in search of my contribution to the wall of graffiti. It was just one small declaration of love, but instinctively I knew it would have survived the test of time. And sure enough, it was right where I’d left it, almost as if the love gods had conspired to protect its sanctity. My memories of Nick—of us—had been warped with time, but this little piece of us, preserved in ink, proved we had once been good.
“Here,” I said, directing his attention to my initials framed inside a heart.
Quinn stooped down to take a closer look. I waited as he examined my drawing, knowing exactly what he was going to ask.
“You’re JB?”
“Yes.”
“And NL is your boyfriend.”
“Was. Now he’s more like a ghost,” I replied.
