All I could think of was Foxleaving.
Fox leaving and thinking Ididn’tcareabout him.
My stomach twisted again,and the next thing I knew I was bent over the sinks, gagging, my body wantingto throw up.
Out of sheer disgust at whatI’ddone. Even my own stomach hated me for it.
Since I hadn’t eaten in asolid fifteen hours or so, nothing came up. I swallowed back down the bile andsaliva, slumping against the wall for support and pressing my forehead to thecool tiles.
I’d lost Fox.
That thought wasn’t going awayanytime soon. Even though I hadn’t looked at his face—hadn’t been brave enough—mybrain was happy to provide images.
Fox, dismayed andheartbroken. Foxangry.
No. He’d never…
He was tookindto beangry with me over this. He’d blame himself.
None of this was his fault.I didn’tknow who’d done it, but I knew Fox would have stopped it if he could. He caredabout me.
And when I’d had the chanceto show him that I cared, too, that he wasn’tjusta giant,interactive sex toy to me…
I’d choked.
Of course I had. I’d been indesperate need of a spine transplant for years, and today had proved it beyondall doubt.
Fox deserved better.
And yet, when the bathroomdoor opened, I couldn’t help hoping it’d be him coming to soothe meagain. Bringing me a bottle of water and a peanut butter cup and a hug.
But it wasn’t Fox. It was…
Lucy?
“Quinn?” Lucy’s eyes widenedas she looked at me. “What’re you doing in here?”
With tear tracks runningdown my face and eyes so puffy theyhurt, I thought it was prettyobvious. “Crying,”I said, more defensively than I meant to. “Obviously.”
“Yeah, but…” Lucy paused. “Thisis the women’s bathroom.”
“Oh.”
I looked around. Yeah. This… this was thewomen’s bathroom.
That explained the lack ofurinals.
“Sorry,” I said, movingtoward the door. “I’ll just…”
“Wait.” Lucy put a hand onmy shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.
The kind, gentle touch wasenough to make me burst into tears again. I didn’tdeservekindness. Sheshould have been yelling at me for what I’d done to Fox.
She couldn’t haveknown, but I stillfelt like the whole universe should have been crashing on top of me right now,coming down like the proverbial ton of bricks.
I’d been waiting for the daywhen I’d have to sell my soul to work in this business. I’dthoughtit’d come when Ihad to give up writing my own music and lyrics. I’d thought Uncle Vincent hadripped it away along with my acoustic guitar, the one he’d broken in the middleof an argument. I’d never gotten around to replacing it, too afraid of makinghim angry.
But no. No, until today, I’d still beendoing the right thing.Ihadn’t made any decisions that were wrong. I hadn’t hurtanyone.
