‘Don’t put him on, Mum.’
‘Let me talk to him.’
‘Leave it be, Harold.’
‘Tell him he is ruining my life!’
Quinn laughed, out of delirium more so than humour. ‘I’m ruininghislife? He’s the one taking away everything I live for.’
‘The press is hounding him, Quinn.’ His mother sighed. ‘They’re outside the house.’
‘That’s not my fault.’ But guilt plagued his body.
‘What are we to do?’
‘Go on with your daily life,’ Quinn said. ‘And don’t speak to the press. Mum, I promise you I won’t mention him. But this is my business that is under threat. You best believe I’m going to do everything in my power to keep it alive.’
He hung up and ignored her when she called back.
If manifestation was real, then Quinn focussed on attracting his power. It was time to find his voice.
ChapterEighteen
Knock. Knock. Knock.
‘Whawathaa?’
Knock. Knock. Knock.
What time was it? 3am?
Quinn, in bed, looked at his phone, the light from his screen blinding him. It was close to 7am, the dark of winter still lingering outside.
Quinn groaned.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
‘Who is it?’
‘The ghost of Christmas past!’ Noah’s voice.
Noah again? Had he left the door unlocked downstairs once more?
Hold on a second. Noah?
Quinn shot to his feet and almost toppled over. Noah couldn’t be here. There was no way this was happening.
Crashing across his bedroom and into his open plan apartment, he almost expected to see smashed glass, mess everywhere, and hooded burglars.
‘Quinn?’
The apartment was untouched, clean, cosy. He had left the Christmas tree lights on the night before, and they faded in and out, slow, lazy, like they were willing him to curl back up and hibernate.
He opened the door and observed Noah in all his morning glory.
No, Quinn. Donotthink of morning glory right now.
Quinn looked Noah up and down, his eyes travelling over him, taking every part of him in. The duster jacket, the scarf around his neck, the bulge of his Adam’s apple. On his chin, blond hair gathered to create the start of a morning’s shadow. It was rugged, tantalising, the hint of what could be a gorgeously crafted mane of beard. He’d shaved it since they’d been together in the bookshop, but it seemed like a constant battle on Noah’s part, judging by the way it grew back so quickly.
