Nova and Quinton: No Regrets (22 page)

Suddenly, coming here to get her doesn’t seem as terrifying as before. In fact, I’m glad I did. A feeling that grows when she moves away from me and, before I have any time to react, leans forward and kisses me right on the lips.

I probably shouldn’t have kissed him. It’s not what I came here for. I just needed to get away from all the sadness and pain over Delilah and Tristan, and when I thought of the one place that I might be able to do that, being by Quinton’s side was the first thing that came to mind.

Just friends
, I kept telling myself during the airplane ride.
We’re just friends.

But seeing him in the flesh, healthy, honey-brown eyes more full of life than I’ve ever seen, it ignited something inside, and without thinking, I found myself placing my lips to his. I start to pull back when I realize I probably shouldn’t have done that, but to my surprise, he presses his hand against my back and crushes our bodies together, deepening the kiss. My body conforms to his as I grasp him, my lips willingly part as his tongue slips deeper inside my mouth. The longer the kiss goes on, the more intense it gets, and before I know it my legs end up latched around his waist as his hands explore my body while he backs us up against the wall. I can barely breathe, only coming up for air when my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. I can’t take it anymore. I seriously want to tear off his clothes and run my hands across every part of him while he does the same to me.

But then suddenly he’s pulling away and the noise around us washes over me and I remember that I’m in a very public place.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Quinton whispers, resting his head against mine, his breathing ragged, my legs still fastened tightly around him.

“Yeah, me too,” I whisper back, basking in the feel of him, from the warmth of his skin to the feathery touch of his breath.

We stay that way for a moment before, finally, he lowers me back to the ground and lets go of me. Then he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, observing me intently. “Do you need to pick up anything from baggage claim?” he asks.

I shake my head and then reach around and pat the bag on my back. “This is all I brought,” I say. “I was in sort of a rush and I’m not even sure if I remembered to bring deodorant.”

He stares at me with a quizzical look, his eyes skimming over me. “Do you… do you want to talk about what’s going on?”

I press my lips together and shake my head, refusing to think about what made me run. Not right now, when the moment is so good. “No, not yet, but later.”

He cups my cheek in his hand. “Tell me what you need me to do… anything you need and I’ll get it for you.”

“Even if I said I needed a unicorn?” I shake my head at myself. I don’t know why I crack a joke but I do.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “That might be possible to be arrange, if I have some time,” he says. “But until then, what else do you need from me?”

My stomach grumbles in response. “How about breakfast?”

With a small smile, he nods and then takes my hand. “Breakfast it is, then.”

We walk out the door and head to the parking garage, holding hands, the clear sky above us. It feels weird but at the same time right. It feels like this is where I belong and I love the feeling, yet at the same time I hate it, because I know that I won’t be able to keep it this way. I have to start talking about what made me run.

* * *

“So you cook?” I say as he stirs some eggs in a pan. I honestly expected him to take me to a restaurant or McDonald’s to get breakfast, but instead he took me to his house, which is about as bare as a home can be, completely filled with boxes.

He shrugs, turning down the stove temperature as the eggs sizzle. “Yeah, I mean, nothing fancy.” He smiles at me over his shoulder. “But I can hold my own.”

I grin back at him from the kitchen table. “Can you make bacon, too?”

“So you’re picky,” he jokes with a chuckle. “But if anyone deserves to be, it’s you.”

My expression falters. “I’m not as great as you think.”

He grabs a plate from the cupboard. “Please talk to me.” He sets the plate down on the countertop and scoops up some eggs. “I don’t like seeing you sad.”

I trace the lines on the table with my head tipped down. “I’m worried if I tell you what’s going on… that it’ll upset you. And I don’t ever want to upset you.”

He doesn’t answer right away and when I hear him moving around, I force myself to look up. Our eyes meet as he sets a plate of eggs down in front of me. “Try me.”

I give him a wary look and then swallow hard. “Are you sure? Because it’s heavy stuff and I know you’ve been struggling with heavy stuff.”

Now he swallows hard as he sits down in the chair across from me. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He reaches across the table, his hand shaking as he gives my hand a soft squeeze. “I want to be here for you, and like I’ve said on the phone a hundred times, I’m not as fragile as you think.”

His touch makes it the slightest bit bearable to speak. “I’m not even sure where to start,” I say quietly. “It was like one minute I was completely okay and then all this stuff happened at once and I just needed to get the hell away from everything.”

“Life can be that way,” he says, letting go of my hand. “But I’m sure whatever’s happening with you, you’ll be able to handle it.” He offers me a smile as he picks up a fork. “You’re amazing with the heavy stuff.”

I poke at my eggs, deciding that the only thing I can do is rip off the Band-Aid. “I think Tristan might be doing drugs again.”

His arm muscles tense, his eyes widening for a split second, but then he quickly tries to compose himself. “For how long?”

“I’m not sure,” I mutter, playing with my eggs, feeling too nauseous to eat. “I’ve had my suspicions for a couple of weeks now, but last night some stuff happened and when I called him, he told me he was at a party and that he didn’t really care what happened to him, because life was shitty.” I leave out the kiss part. It’s irrelevant in my opinion because it didn’t mean anything to me.

Quinton doesn’t say a word, his fork still in his hand, his face masked with confusion. “Did he flat-out say he was doing drugs again?”

“No, but he said he was about to,” I say, nibbling on my eggs. “He’s been acting so weird lately. Hanging out with this sketchy guy, and I was worried that if I called him out on it, he’d get mad at me.” I blow out a breath, drop my fork on my plate, and massage my temples with my fingertips. “There’s more, but you can tell me to stop if you need me to. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

He sets the fork down and rubs his hand down his face so roughly he leaves red marks on his skin. “No, I need to do this. I need to be here for you like you were for me.”

“Are you sure?”

He vacillates, then nods. “Yes. I’m positive.”

My stomach winds in knots and I hope that he can handle it like he says. “Remember how I told you about Delilah? And how she was missing and her mom was looking for her?”

He nods again and then his eyes enlarge. “Wait, did they find her?”

“I’m not sure.” I shut my eyes to keep tears from falling. “I got a call from my mom last night and she said that Delilah’s mom was heading down to Vegas to… identify a body… see if it’s hers.”

Silence surrounds us. I want to open my eyes and look at him, but at the same time I’m afraid. Afraid that I’ll see that darkness return to his eyes. Afraid that I’ll see the need to feed the darkness. But then I feel his hand on top of mine and the connection causes my eyelids to lift.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says, his hand trembling on mine. Or maybe mine’s the one shaking—it’s hard to tell.

“I know it will be eventually,” I say. “Because I’ve been through this before… but I’m… afraid…”

A pucker forms at his brow. “Of what?”

“Of shutting down.” I slip my hand out from underneath his and place it on top of my erratic heart. “Of counting. Of going back to my OCD so I don’t have to deal with this.” I’m about to cry but I’m trying my hardest to suck back the tears, hold it all in, be strong. “Life was going so good and I just want it to stay that way.” But the tears start to slip out and stream down my cheeks.

“Hey,” he says, getting up from the chair and rushing to me. “Everything is going to be good still, even if it gets a little bumpy for a while.” He kneels down in front of me and touches his hand to my cheek, smearing some of the tears away with his thumb. “And you want to know how I know that?” he asks, and I nod my head as more hot tears spill down my cheek. “Because I’m here. With you. And we’re both sober.” He gives me a lopsided smile and then wraps his arms around me, pulling me toward him. “And we both can get through this together.”

My arms instinctively circle him and pull him closer as I rest my chin on top of his shoulders. “But what if it is her?”

His muscles spasm, but when he speaks his voice is calm. “Then we’ll deal with it together.”

“Can you… can you deal with it?” I wonder, looking him in the eyes. I honestly don’t know, if it comes down to it, if he can be there for me without it hurting his recovery. If it is Delilah’s body, will he be able to handle it? I don’t think they were that close, but death is death. It’s hard. Painful. And the weight of it grows with each person who passes, and never fully lightens again. Quinton’s lost a lot and I worry the weight of another death will push him down.

“I think so.” His voice falters, but he quickly recovers. “I will for you… but Nova, let’s not go to that place until we know for sure, okay?”

I nod, reaching up and wiping some more tears away with my fingertips. After I pull myself together, I lean back and look him in the eye. “You’re pretty good at this. You know that?”

He raises his eyebrows with a look of disbelief. “Well, if that’s true, then you can thank Wilson and his constant nagging words of wisdom.”

“Do I get to meet him?” I ask, changing the subject to a lighter tone. “While I’m here?”

“Do you want to meet him?” he asks in surprise, his hands resting on top of my legs.

“Of course. You’ve been talking about him nonstop for a couple of weeks now,” I say, but when he frowns, I add, “But you don’t have to introduce me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to,” he replies with reservation. “It’s just that…” He scratches the back of his head. “It’s just that it makes things so real.” He gestures between us. “You and I.”

“It doesn’t have to mean that,” I say, hiding my disappointment. “We can still just be friends.”

His lips smash together as he holds my gaze. “I’m not sure if I can do that. Not when you’re here now.” He shuts his eyes and his chest rises and falls as he breathes in deeply and exhales. “Not after that kiss.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I apologize, even though I’m not that sorry. “I feel like I just put a ton of pressure on you by showing up here. I should have thought this all through a little better.”

He opens his eyes, honey brown and reflecting the light of the room. I remember when I first met him how much pain they carried and in Vegas how empty they looked. But now they’re different… he’s different—more alive. “No, I want to be here for you… you’ve been there so much for me.” He deliberates something with a lost look on his face. “Just tell me what you want to do and I’ll make it happen.”

I consider what I want, but a lot of impossible scenarios come to mind, like making it so Delilah will be okay, so I decide to settle on something simple. “I want to see the city,” I say. “I’ve never been here before.”

“How long are you planning on staying?” He gets to his feet and sits back down to eat breakfast.

“I have to go back home tomorrow… I have to work the day after Christmas and I promised Lea I’d spend Christmas day with her.”

I can’t tell if he’s happy about this or not, but then he smiles. “Only one day in Seattle. I know just the place to go.”

“Oh yeah? Where?” I dig into my eggs.

“It’s a surprise.” Then he winks at me and just seeing him happy makes me think that, despite all the darkness and wrong going on right now, everything’s going to turn out okay.

It’s strange having Nova here, but not as strange as I thought it would be. In fact, despite my nervousness, it feels strangely right having her by my side. I wonder what this means. That it doesn’t feel as wrong as it used to.

But the settled feeling leaves me a little as we get onto a bus and head toward town to see the Space Needle. I keep thinking how Lexi and I used to do this and how I shouldn’t be doing it with Nova, yet as I sit by her, holding her hand, I can’t seem to bring myself to put any sort of space between us.

“Seattle’s a lot bigger than I thought,” she says as she observes the city through the window. She has her phone out and every once in a while she records the stuff around us, always wanting to see everything through a lens.

The city is extra busy right now, being that it’s the day before Christmas. More people walk the streets, carrying bags. Lights sparkle around windows and everything seems to shine cheerfully.

“It’s definitely no Maple Grove,” I tell her, leaning over her shoulder to stare up at the buildings with her. Her vanilla scent floods my body and I can’t help it, I brush my lips across the side of her head. Just a soft kiss, to still the craving to smother her with passionate kisses.

“It’s so tall and busy,” she says, leaning into me and sighing contentedly. “And shiny. Like a big mirror… and all the Christmas stuff… I swear I can actually feel Christmas in the air.”

“I used to draw it all the time,” I divulge, turning my legs inward in the seat when a lady on crutches comes hobbling by. “I even won an art contest with one of my drawings when I was a senior in high school.”

She turns her head and we’re so close our lips brush against each other. “I want to see some of your sketches while I’m here. Ones that you used to draw.”

My brows furrow as I realize that I think I might be able to handle that. “You know what? I think I’d like you to see them too… I’d like you to see that I wasn’t always so tripped out and could draw stuff with meaning behind it.”

“I think everything you draw has meaning behind it,” she says, the sunlight illuminating her greenish-blue eyes. “Some of the meaning is just sadder.”

Her words hit me in the heart. She’s so understanding and all I want to do is kiss her. Without any warning I press my lips to hers, startling her. But she doesn’t pull back, falling into the kiss, opening her mouth as I slide my tongue deep inside. I’m sure we have an audience, but I don’t care as I lean into her, forcing her to lean against the bus wall.

And that’s how we stay until we reach our stop, almost missing it because we’re so consumed in each other. We get off holding hands, the icy air just a bit more bearable as we walk side by side.

“Did you come here a lot?” she asks, angling her head back to look up at the top of the Space Needle stretching toward the sky as she raises her camera phone to get a shot of it.

I nod, not looking at the building, but at her. The awe in her expression is more fascinating than anything else going on around me. The way her eyes look crystal blue in the shadows, but greener when she leans into the light. The way strands of her hair move with the wind and the way she’s biting her bottom lip nervously. Watching her makes me still inside and I wonder if this is how it could have always been with her if my mind had been undiluted enough to be aware of it. Although I feel high on her right now. Nova high. I wonder if that’s okay.

“What?” she asks, suddenly looking at me, and our gazes fasten.

I shake my head, still not looking away from her. “It’s nothing. You’re just beautiful. That’s all.”

Her cheeks turn a little pink and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. It helps override the terror affection term I just told her

“Thanks,” Nova says shyly.

I smile. “Come on,” I say, pulling her toward the entrance before she can get too embarrassed. “It’s much better at the top.”

She laughs and lets me guide her up the stairs that lead to the entrance doors, where we pay our way in and take the elevators to the observation area. The wind feels like ice from all the way up here and stings my cheeks. We’re so high up it feels like I’m flying and I hold on to Nova while she records the view, staying behind her with my hands on her hips, afraid to let her go as she leans forward and glances at the view below.

“The city looks so small from up here,” she notes, then glances over my shoulder with her phone still up in front of her. “I feel like I’m a bird or something.”

Smiling, I span my arms out and bring hers along with mine, pretending we have wings. She laughs, turning back around and redirecting her attention to the view and her camera. We stand there silently for the longest time, watching people come and go, the air getting colder and the sky darker. I think about asking her if she’s ready to go, but I sense she’s having some sort of moment so I remain silent, wondering what she’s thinking and if she’ll ever share it.

“Landon was afraid of heights,” she says unexpectedly, gazing straight ahead as she continues to record. “We couldn’t even ride the Ferris wheel when the carnival came to town.”

“Lexi was afraid of bugs,” I say quietly, resting my chin on top of her head, my fingers delving into her sides because I have to hold on to something, otherwise I’m pretty sure I’m going to collapse from the adrenaline and emotions barreling through me. “I had to squish one every time she saw it.”

“I’m not a fan of them either,” she admits. “But that’s not what I fear the most.”

“What do you fear the most?” I dare ask, tensing as I wait for her answer.

“Life,” she says, looking over her shoulder at me. “And what lies ahead for me. You?”

My scar burns on my chest, feeling like it is splitting open, sending pain all over my body, but despite it, I manage to say, “The past and forgetting it.”

She nods, understanding, and I’m glad I don’t have to explain it to her. It makes things easier, unlike with my therapist, who wants me to explain everything. Nova gets me without my having to explain everything, and when I do explain things to her, I feel terrified but better. God, it’s amazing what she’s done for me. How lucky I am that she’s here with me.

“Landon said he was tired of life,” she whispers. “And that he couldn’t find a point of living it anymore, so he just gave up… it always feels like everyone’s giving up all the time and I don’t understand why.”

“Because it’s easier,” I say. “Than living and fighting to survive.”

“But it’s worth it?” she asks with so much hope in her eyes it makes me feel the slightest bit of hope, too. “Right?”

“I didn’t used to think so… I used to think that the only way to deal with everything was to give up, but now…” I trail off, searching her eyes. “But now it’s not so easy anymore.”

She presses her lips together, turns toward me, and then slips her fingers through mine. “Good. Because I don’t want you to give up. I need you here with me.” Then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me and for a moment everything seems perfect. I’m not sure if I deserve it or not. If it’s right or wrong, but regardless I’m selfishly taking it at the moment because I want her, more than anything.