Something Like Redemption (Something Like Normal #2) (7 page)

Before I have a chance to finish my dare, his strong hands wrap around my waist, hauling me off the ground, and I’m seeing the skyline of South Carolina through Quinn’s legs.

“Put me down!” I screech, kicking out crazily as he climbs the stairs, totally ignoring the fact he has flipped me over his shoulder like a five-year-old.

His hands are strapped over my legs, just under my butt, and as I twist around, trying to crawl up his body, he slaps me on the ass—hard.

“Ouch! You motherfu—”

I don’t get a chance to finish my cuss because he kicks open the door to our room, probably breaking the hinges with the force. He then tosses me onto the bed. I bounce off, as the surface is like a freakin’ bouncing castle. Planting my fists into the mattress to stop myself from falling face first onto the gross carpet, I glare at him something wicked.

Quinn stalks to the bed while I quickly arise and face off with him on the other side. The only thing that separates us is the mattress, which may as well be nonexistent, as Quinn is about to charge.

“You are the most impossible woman I have ever met, and that’s saying a lot, seeing as I have met
a lot
of impossible women!” he yells, his fists bunching up by his sides.

“Oh, I’m sure you have!” I scream back at him. “I’m sure you have probably fucked most of them! Oh hang on, I take that back, you only go for the easy ones with the I.Q. of a pea!”

I am shaking in rage, eyeing him, wishing I had something pointy handy to throw at his arrogant face.

“Easy ones? Ha! You really want to go there!?” Quinn chuckles angrily, interlacing his hands on the top of his head. “If that were true, then what the hell am I doing with you?” he asks, his cheeks flushed in rage.

I take a step back, because hearing him say something aloud that I have thought over and over for the past two days feels like a stab wound slicing through my heart.

My anger and frustration comes exploding out of me, and I’m afraid I won’t ever stop. “No one is keeping you here! Leave!” I scream, pointing to the door. “Do us both a favor and leave! Do you think I want you here? Do you think I want you caught up in all my fucking mess? Do you?”

My body begins shaking in fury, but also, in fear that he will leave me, because I have done nothing but made his life hell.

Quinn’s hardened features soften when he sees I’m on the verge of hysteria. “Red, I didn’t mean—”

But I stop him.

Storming over to where he stands, I shove him as hard as I can with both hands, burying my fingers into his solid chest.

“Leave!” I bellow. “Go on! Leave!” Again I push him, but he doesn’t move, his tenacious stance not budging.

The tears I have been holding onto for so long break free, streaming down my cheeks, burning my eyes. I can no longer see Quinn, as my vision is drowning in endless tears. What right do I have to cry when Hank lies in a morgue somewhere, dead? What right do I have to cry when Tristan is lying in a hospital bed, healing from a wound I may as well have inflicted myself?

None.

I don’t realize I’m slumped onto the floor, sobbing hysterically, until I feel Quinn’s soft lips pass over my face, hair, mouth, whatever piece of me he can reach to try and calm me down.

But I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve comfort. I push at him wildly, but his strong arms never let me go as they enfold me into his chest.

“No,” I croak weakly, trying to shove him away, but still, he won’t shift.

“I don’t deserve this,” I sob, my tears tasting salty as they slip into my parted lips. “I don’t deserve you,” I declare on a howl. “I deserve to be in a hospital, not Tristan. I deserve to be dead, not Hank. And only I deserve to be on the run, not you.”

My fears, my
guilt
has coming pouring out of me, and now, I can’t stop.

“Quinn, I killed Hank,” I weep uncontrollably. “I did nothing to help him! I just stood there while they shot him. I may as well have pulled the trigger!” I scream.

“Red, that’s not true,” Quinn says quietly, but I can hear the catch in his voice, trying to remain calm.

“Yes, it is! All of this is
my
fault. I’m riddled with a grief so deep, I don’t know how I’m going to go on. How can I live with myself after all this, Quinn? How?” I pull back, my bottom lip trembling, tears clouding my view of him.

“You’ll go on,” he pauses as he corrects, “
we’ll
go on, because those motherfuckers are going to pay for what they did to Hank, to Tristan, and to you. And I’m here every step of the way, Red. Every step. I won’t leave you, I promise you. No matter how hard you push me away, I will push back twice as hard, because I know you feel it.” He reaches for my trembling hand, placing it over his heart, locking his hand over mine. “I know you feel every slice of pain, every sliver of regret, every piece of anger I feel, and together, we will fight it. We will get through this because once it’s over, we’re going to be… free.”

Just the word itself sounds like my redemption, and even though I don’t know Quinn’s secrets, I do know he has his own cross to bear. Together, we will get past our demons, and just… live.

I know, Plan A and B were just weak excuses to push Quinn away, hoping he would be like everyone else I have ever met and disappoint me. But he hasn’t. Quinn Berkeley is unlike anyone I have ever met.

He is the eighth wonder of the world. Scrap that—he is my first and only wonder of the world.

“I’m sorry.” I sniff. “I was only trying to protect you,” I explain, referring to my Grade A, asshole behavior over the past two days.

“Sshh,” he whispers, wiping away my tears with the back of his knuckles. “I know. It just took me a little while to figure it out. But no more, okay?” he says seriously, his eyes searching mine.

I nod, tears spilling over my wet lashes and onto his fingers.

“We do this together. I’m here because I
want
to be here. Because I want you,” he says, and before I have a chance to reprimand him, he seals his lips over mine, kissing me with a ferocious passion which engulfs me from head to toe.

My body melts as he bites my lower lip and plunges his tongue into my mouth, claiming my lips as his own. I know in this moment I belong to Quinn, and all plans of pushing him away have been rendered null and void.

So no more plans, and no more schemes. This is raw and this is real. And this is the first time in two days I have felt alive.

Chapter 7

Freedom

I wake after the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in two days. And I know the reason behind that is Quinn.

How is it possible I’ve grown to depend on him in such a short amount of time? I feel safe with him, as he seems to be my equilibrium. If we’re off, then so am I. But if we’re balanced, then everything is, well, steady.

“Mornin’.”

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and sitting up, I look around the room, which is only illuminated by the gentle glow of the small TV.

“What time is it?” I ask, clearing my throat when I see Quinn sitting on the two seater brown sofa, channel surfing, the volume muted.

“A little after four,” he replies, his eyes fixated on the TV.

His bare feet are propped up on the coffee table in front of him, and his tangled hair is cascading into his intense eyes as he focuses on the TV, in deep concentration. The hard set of his jaw reveals something is wrong.

“Come here,” he says when I just sit and stare, my foggy brain playing catch up.

It’s freezing, so I reach out and snatch up one of Quinn’s zip up sweaters, which sits on the end of the bed. Wrapping myself into it, as it’s about five sizes too big, Quinn’s eyes flick up to meet mine and a small smile tugs at the corner of his beautiful lips.

“That look suits you,” he teases, opening his arm out to the side for me to cuddle into him.

“Whatcha watching?” I ask as I sit near him, tucking my legs underneath me, his sweater covering my cold legs.

He pulls me into his side, wrapping an arm protectively around my waist. “Just checking out the news,” he replies, but not before I hear him inhale deeply.

“Quinn, I think we’ve discussed that sniffing people is considered creepy,” I joke, but silently I relish in the feeling.

A deep chuckle resonates through him and vibrates into my body, spreading goose pimples like wild fire throughout my entire frame.

“I can’t help it. You smell so good. Consider yourself lucky I’m not sniffing other things.” He laughs when I slap him lightly on his hardened abs.

“Anything?” I ask, gesturing toward the TV with my head.

“Nope,” he says, relieved.

I know he’s been checking to see if our faces have been plastered on the local news as wanted fugitives—so far so good.

“I was thinking,” I yawn, still tired after my marathon sleep.

“Uh oh,” he cuts me off, turning me in his arms to face him. “I hope you haven’t come up with yet
another
plan, 'cause Red, they kinda suck.”

I slap him again, harder this time, and he laughs.

“I’m serious,” I say, pouting.

“Okay, what’s up?” he replies, putting on his serious face.

I begin fidgeting with the zipper, zipping it up and down a few times before I speak.

“What if we called the police and put in our own anonymous tip? We can say we saw two men, matching my dad and Phil’s description, leaving Night Cats on the night—” but I can’t finish that sentence without wanting to hurl. “It’s worth a shot,” I opt for instead. “Shake it up a bit, so we’re not the only ones the police want to speak to.”

Quinn shrugs, my tiny frame jiggling with the movement. “It might be worth a shot,” he says, disheartened, and I realize it’s a stupid idea.

“I’m—”

“Zip it, Red,” he says, before I have a chance to finish my sentence. “I don’t want your apologies. So quit giving them to me.”

I give him a small smile, as it’s nice to hear he doesn’t hate me.

“So what do you think?” I ask, peering up at him.

“I think anything is better than nothing. Even if it falls on deaf ears, it might help take some heat off of us.”

“I agree,” I reply, nodding.

Quinn sighs, brushing a hand down his stubbled face before he reaches into his pocket, pulling out Tabitha’s phone.

“I got this earlier,” he says, passing me the phone.

My eyes skim over the message.

Where are you?? Tabitha

I read it twice and panic, as the number is different than the one Abi has been texting us from.

“That’s not like Tabitha to be so direct,” I comment, while Quinn exhales loudly.

“Yeah, I know.”

Why is she being so vague? This isn’t like her. Then my brain catches up, and I gasp, shaking my head.

“That’s not Abi. What if—” But I can’t finish my sentence as I toss the phone to the floor, thoughts plaguing my mind.

Quinn sucks on his lip ring, deep in thought. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admits. “But if it’s not her, then who is it?”

We both look at one another, not voicing what we both know to be true.

“It’s either the police, or my dad and Phil,” I whisper sadly.

Quinn nods coolly as he reaches for the phone I threw in haste. I watch with interest as he slips out the SIM, snapping it between his fingers.

“Well, that solves that problem,” I say with half a smile.

Quinn shrugs, tossing the broken SIM onto the table. “We’ll just call her house from now on, and Tristan should be released soon,” Quinn says calmly.

“You think the police have the landlines tapped?” I ask nervously.

Quinn shakes his head, his messy hair sliding into his eyes. “I doubt it. We’re only wanted for questioning. We haven’t been charged or convicted.”

“Not yet,” I mumble, lowering my eyes.

“Hey, none of that,” Quinn says. “We will work this out.”

“Do you think Tabitha is okay?” I ask quietly, hoping whoever texted us guessed we had her phone, and not actually confronted her about it.

Quinn nods. “Yes. Abi’s family is way too well known for anything to happen to her. Your dad isn’t that stupid to draw any attention to himself by hurting her.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and nod, because he’s right. My dad and Phil will want to lay low and slip under the radar, because South Boston is a small town, and people like my dad and Phil stand out.

“So, what now?” I ask, frowning.

“Firstly, you’re going to stop frowning.” My lips form a straight line instantly. “And secondly, we’re going on a road trip.”

“What?” I ask, taken aback. “Road trip?”

“Yup,” Quinn nods, smirking at me, while I gape at him like he’s gone insane.

“Red, you’ve never been outside of L.A. And South Boston doesn’t count.”

I frown once again. Surely he’s not serious.

“This is your chance to do so. And I’m still keen to just go wherever the road takes us,” he says, placing his fingers to the corner of my mouth and pushing my frown into a smile.

I instantly smile at his stupidity.

“Tristan should be out of the hospital in a week or so, and until then, we’ll just keep low and move from state to state. Once we’re able to make contact back home, we’ll suss out what’s going on, and then make a decision what to do next.” He pauses, and then adds, “and if you still want to go see your mom, then we head to Canada.”

My mom. Isn’t it funny, I just don’t care anymore.

He’s so organized, so efficient, and it makes me think he’s done this before. I’m determined to get to the bottom of Quinn’s past, because he has set me free from my demons. I intend to do the same for him.

“Okay, so it’s settled. We keep moving,” he says, rubbing my cheek when I hesitate.

“Okay,” I nod, leaning into his hand. “But first things first,” I mumble into his palm.