“Why not?” A challenge tinged his tone.
“Because he knows about my Wolf disaster,” she shot back. “If I tell him about you and me, he’ll say it’s too soon, that you’re the wrong guy for me. Worse, if things don’t work out between us, I’ll have to admit one more screw-up to him. It has a compounding effect.”
“Goddamn it, Sarah, I’m not Wolf! I haven’t hidden a fucking thing from you, good or bad. Want to know who I am? Open your eyes. I’m the same guy I’ve always been, and I’m standing right here.”
“I didn’t say you were Wolf!”
The tempest in his chiseled features gave way to hurt that nearly tore her heart in two. “But you’re judging me based on him. How the hell can this relationship work if you think of us as a ‘mistake,’ a ‘disaster,’ or a ‘screw-up’? The way I see it, ‘taking a break,’ running to Texas for a job—or wherever the hell you wind up—is codespeak for ‘This is my way out.’”
Her anger started to rise. “You’re putting words in my mouth! First of all, I never called us a mistake—”
“Not directly.” He heaved out a sigh. A lock of soft sable hair brushed the tops of his eyebrows, and she had to stifle the urge to push it back, to touch it. Something told her she was about to give up that right, and her heart thumped heavily in her chest.
“Am I supposed to let you support me? Sit around the house all day, building 3-D puzzles, waiting for ‘my man’ to come home so my purpose is fulfilled by fawning over him like he’s the center of my universe?” He took up the crossed-arms pose again, his dark eyebrows inching toward one another, deepening the vertical creases between them. “Quinn, I need to prove to myself—and my family—that I can stand on my own two feet and that I’m capable of providing for myself.” Her plea leaked out in her voice.
“But you already have! That’s exactly what you were doing long before Wolf derailed you.”
Stubborn man! “Why can’t we just move everything to the back burner for a bit and let it simmer while we figure us out?”
“You mean while you figure us out. I don’t need to figure out a damn thing, except whether this was just a fling for you all along. ‘Meh, a younger hockey player might be a fun way to pass the time.’” He paused a beat and gusted out a breath. Her brain was firing like an ignited pack of firecrackers, and before she could process, he said, “All right. You want a break? You got it.”
With that, he pivoted and trod toward his room without a backward glance. Stunned, all she could do was watch him go.
Quinn went from drawer to drawer, an automaton yanking out clothes and stuffing them into a duffel. “This is your own damn fault, you stupid fuck,” he muttered to himself. “You’re the dumbass who told her to use you any way she wanted.” But he’d never expected her to take him up on it. No, cocksure as he’d been, he’d believed she was in as deep as he was. His mother’s words slammed him relentlessly, like the Hulk beating Loki as though he were a dust-filled rug: She’ll give you a run for your money because she’ll be the only woman you can’t impress with just your smile.
Fuck me!
His duffel was overflowing—with what, he wasn’t sure—and he hadn’t touched his closet. He needed at least one suit and some dress shirts and shoes, didn’t he? But going in there, seeing himself reflected in the mirrors, without her … Fuck it! She’d be gone next week, and he’d come back and get the rest. By then, maybe his wounds wouldn’t cut so deep and he could move around the space with a detachment that eluded him at the moment.
He snatched the beanbags from his nightstand—resisting the urge to stop and juggle—threw them in the duffel, and zipped it shut. Relief washed over him when she was nowhere in sight—he wasn’t sure if he’d rail at her like an ass or beg her to stay with him like a pathetic dweeb.
But Archer, the all-seeing, all-knowing wonder dog was there, and Quinn gave him an extra-long scratch.
With his duffel over his shoulder, he grabbed his stick and gear bag and hustled to his truck. As he backed out of the driveway, he wondered what he’d left behind. Besides Sarah. He’d sort it—all of it—at the condo, where he could think without smelling her perfume or seeing her diamond-bright, gold-starburst eyes he’d want to drown in.
An hour later, Quinn stood in his condo alone. The tenants had been on a month-to-month and had moved out weeks before, but he hadn’t done a thing to get it back into the rental pool. Fortuitous procrastination, as it turned out, since he was moving back in. The concierge had met him to inspect the unit, and she’d departed with a breathy, “It’s good to have you back, Mr. Hadley. You know where to find me if you need anything.” Emphasis on “anything.”
Yeah, no thanks.
Now that she was gone, he ran his fingers over the polished, monolithic white island and let his eyes wander to the two-story wall of glass. He’d always loved that view, but now, as he took it in, it left him … cold.
He turned toward the hand-forged stainless-steel-and-glass stairway that led to a spectacular master suite. The staircase had always awed him because it seemed to be suspended in air. Suddenly, he saw it through a new lens. Sarah’s lens. His focus sharpened on a series of cables and bolts he’d never noticed, and he gained an entirely new appreciation for the structure.
