Rebel Princess

by Lynn Stevens

  Quinn paid for the locker and chatted with Jack a bit more while I stood there staring at the car posters scattered across the walls. I didn’t say a word until we were outside and locking my purse in my locker. Quinn closed the combination lock he’d taken out of his pack. He glanced at me and wrinkled his forehead.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. I bit my lip and stared down at the dirt. Quinn lifted my chin with his finger. The concern etched itself between his brows. “Did I do something?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  His finger dropped, and so did my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been. The last thing I wanted was for this, whatever this was, to get off on the wrong foot. Colin and I had been all about the half-truths to boost each other’s egos. It worked until it didn’t. When it didn’t, we crashed hard.

  I inhaled deeply then let him know exactly why I was confused. “It’s not necessarily wrong,” I began, trying to articulate my thoughts. Finally, I gave up. “I didn’t like how Jack stared at me, but I can take care of myself. I’m used to taking care of myself. It was weird how you snapped at him, but I kind of liked it too. So, I really don’t know how I’m feeling. Confused, for sure, but also a little flattered that you felt like you needed to stand up for me. Does that make any sense at all? I feel like I’m rambling.”

  Quinn smiled slowly. “Yeah, I get it. And I’m not sorry I got on his case. I am sorry that I might have offended you, even a little bit. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

  “So, where do we go from here?” I asked. This uneven ground wasn’t familiar territory.

  “We go on a picnic?” He pointed over his shoulder toward the backpack.

  “Lead the way,” I said, smiling like an idiot. Any other guy I’d dated in the past would’ve told me to get over it. Quinn listened. I liked him even more for it, too.

  “I’d rather have you walk beside me,” he said, taking my hand again.

  I might have actually swooned. Walk beside him? Who said things like that, and why don’t more guys say it? Heck yeah, I’d walk beside him. Equally. My fingers wove into his and squeezed gently, sending a wave of pleasure to the tips of my ears.

  We walked toward some unknown location. Quinn pointed out names of different vegetation and trees. After a few minutes, we started up a slight incline. Florida was flat, so this was not what I expected. We stopped at the top under a copse of slash pine trees with an octagonal picnic table beneath them. Beyond the trees was a valley of pure mud. There were steep hills and deeper valleys with large puddles. A single truck with a large tank and irrigation sprayers drove through, making the mud even worse.

  “What’s he doing?” I asked when Quinn stopped beside me.

  “Every few hours or so, depending on the weather, they add water to make it muddier.” He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder. “Jack schedules bigger groups like Lionel’s and only lets so many people out on the track at a time to keep it fresh and keep people from acting too stupid.”

  “How many people is a bigger group?” I asked as we turned back toward the picnic table. We sat facing the track, our thighs pressing together. I didn’t move to give him room, and neither did he.

  “Four vehicles most likely. Jack’s max is six, but that gets dangerous when people get stupid. And they tend to with the adrenaline rushing through them.” He dug through his pack and set out two sandwiches, a bag of carrots and celery, two water bottles, and a container of cherries. “Lionel and his friends tend to lean toward the stupid side.”

  “Have you ridden with them?” I asked, unwrapping my sandwich. The water truck finished and drove out of the track on a road I hadn’t noticed.

  “Nah, I prefer to ride alone.”

  I glanced at him, and he pursed his lips from the smile forming.

  “Until now.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I ducked my head. “What changed?”

  “You,” he said.

  I lifted my head and met his gaze. The intensity in his eyes sent my heart on overdrive. “What about me?”

  He put his sandwich down and turned to face me. “You don’t look at me like I’m a freak of nature or like I’m somehow ruined. You’ve never once asked about my…” He motioned toward his scarred face. “You don’t even stare at them. You don’t treat me like I’m less of a person.” He shrugged. “At least, you haven’t in the few times we’ve been around each other. I’ll admit, it’s a small sample size, but I don’t feel like you will either.”

  I smiled. Normally my curiosity got the best of me, but I’d learned over the last couple of years not to pursue a story when it would eventually tell you everything you needed to know. And Quinn was so much more than just his story.

  “Why would I? You’re gorgeous.” If I wasn’t blushing before, I was most definitely blushing now. “I mean… God, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry. No, I’m not sorry. I mean… I don’t even know what I mean.”

  Quinn chuckled and took my hand. “You think I’m gorgeous? Not some scarred monster who should stay locked up in a bell tower?”

  I turned my hand over and linked our fingers. “If anyone locks you in a bell tower, I’ll find the key. Or pick the lock.”

  He leaned down and pressed his cool lips to the back of my hand. The conversation shifted as four trucks drove onto the freshly muddied track, revving their engines. A cute yellow truck with a roll bar and short bed gunned it toward a large watery mudpuddle. The mud and water splashed everywhere, covering the yellow with brown sludge. A loud whoop echoed over the hills.

  Quinn let go of my hand. The moment lingered between us as we ate in silence and watched Lionel’s crew take the small hills at high speeds without any airtime. The engines were so loud we couldn’t have carried on a conversation if we’d wanted to. Quinn opened the container of cherries and offered them to me. The sticky red juice ran down my fingers as I sucked on the pit before spitting it out. I smiled and licked the juice still on my fingers.

  He swallowed hard as he stared at me. Then, he tore his gaze away just as the yellow truck took a hill at a bad angle and flipped over onto the driver’s side.

  The other trucks cut their engines, and an eerie silence filled the area.

  “Shit,” Quinn whispered as he stood.

  In a flash, he took off down the embankment toward the silent truck. I followed at a much slower pace. The other guys stayed near their trucks, like they hoped nothing bad had happened, but if it had, they didn’t want to see it. Once Quinn climbed up the passenger side, they jumped into action and hurried over. I got there just as they did.

  “Lionel,” Quinn said from the passenger side. “You okay, buddy?”

  “Shit,” one of the other drivers said. He had a scraggly blond beard and wore a beat-up trucker hat.

  I couldn’t hear what Lionel said. Someone else muttered about no phone service.

  Quinn reached into the cab and pulled out an old-style CB radio. He clicked the side button, and crackling filled the air. “Jack, get a tow and an ambulance. Lionel flipped.”

  “Ten four,” Jack’s voice broke through the static.

  Quinn glanced around at the others then pointed at two of the guys, scraggly beard and another who was trying to grow one. “Get up here. Hold my feet. I need to check his vitals.”

  “Shouldn’t we … I don’t know … try to right the truck?” another guy asked.

  “Not if he’s hurt,” Quinn replied. He leaned down and bent into the cab. The two guys grabbed his feet. A few minutes later, Quinn emerged, and so did a very shaken Lionel.

  “Jesus, Lionel, you scared the shit out of us. You okay, man?” the blond with a bad beard said.

  “Sit here,” Quinn said, pointing to the mud ramp. He took a light pen from his pocket and flashed it in Lionel’s eyes. “You’ve got a concussion. Let me see your arm.”

  “I’m fine,” Lionel said, tucking his arm closer to his chest. “It’s nothing.”

  Quinn wasn’t hearin
g any of it though. He took Lionel’s arm and gently began straightening it. Lionel winced and tried to pull it back. Then he winced again.

  “It might be cracked, possible muscle damage too.” Quinn took a red bandana from his back pocket and pressed it against a cut on Lionel’s head. “That’ll probably need stitches. Hold this here.”

  Lionel did as instructed. In the distance, the sirens of the ambulance roared.

  “Damn it. I ain’t got insurance,” Lionel said. He tried to stand but lost his balance. Quinn and scraggly beard kept Lionel from falling and helped him sit back against the mud.

  “Regardless, you need a doctor, Lionel.” Quinn pulled at the hole in Lionel’s jeans, where blood had coated the denim. He sat back on his heels and stared at the injured driver. “Good news there. That doesn’t look deep.”

  The ambulance roared onto the track, sending mud sparing behind its tires and spinning just enough to be noticeable. Quinn stood and went over to the EMT as she climbed out of the driver’s side. Her partner strolled around to the back, opening the bay doors. A few moments later, Jack parked behind them in a monster flatbed tow truck. He jumped out and joined Quinn with the EMT. They shook hands, and Jack and the EMT headed toward Lionel and his band of drivers. Quinn shoved his hands in his pockets as he strolled toward me.

  “No mudding today,” he said with a shrug. “Jack’s shut down the track until his adjuster gets here. Ready?”

  “Is Lionel going to be okay?” I asked as we turned toward the picnic table. We walked slowly, but I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder to the track. The EMTs had gotten Lionel to the bay. Jack and the others stood around the truck.

  “He’ll be fine,” Quinn said. He bumped my shoulder. “Sorry about all this.”

  I snorted a laugh. “What do you have to be sorry for? It wasn’t your fault he tipped his truck and lost control.”

  “True, but I wanted to show you a good time.” He smiled as we rounded the table and began to gather our things.

  “Well, I wasn’t bored,” I said, laughing to ease the tension. “Where’d you learn all the medical stuff anyway?”

  Quinn tensed, and his face drained of color. He closed his eyes and seemed to come to a decision. When he opened them again, his eyes were determined but pained. “When I was in the service, I was a field medic for a unit that saw more than its fair share of action. Most of what I did was patch soldiers up to get them to more qualified doctors.”

  I put my hand on his forearm and stepped closer. “You must have seen so much.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded as he stared over my head into the distance. “One person dying was more than enough. It wasn’t all like that. Sometimes it was simple and calm. It was other times, though fewer, that dig into your chest like talons and won’t let go.”

  I wanted to ask him about his scars again, but I didn’t. He’d said that was one of the things he liked about me. I didn’t want to ruin that. Besides, the scars were just that. They didn’t define him.

  “How long were you in for?” I asked instead.

  “Ten years.” He wrapped his hands around his dog tags again. “I spent more than half overseas. I’d volunteer to extend my tour. It wasn’t that I loved being in the desert, but it was better than being home.”

  A lightbulb went off in my head. There was so much more to Quinn than I realized. But wasn’t the truth about everyone? Here I’d thought he was a soldier who had been through so much when the truth was even deeper.

  “Why’d you get out?” I asked as we started back toward the parking lot. “Why not stay in?”

  “A lot of people don’t ask. They just assume it’s because of my face.” He shook his head. “The truth is this” – he motioned toward his scars – “happened in my third tour. I didn’t decide to leave until my last tour. It had become too much. I’d thought I could go back after the incident, but I had a hard time with it. I forced myself to keep up like nothing had changed. In a way, it was a good thing. I made it through five months of a six-month tour when…”

  He trailed off, and I didn’t want to push him. I slid my hand in his. He glanced down at me with a small smile. One that I returned shyly.

  “Anyway, we were on a routine patrol. Things finally felt like nothing had changed, and I was back to my old self.” His fingers tightened over mine. “A dog ran in front of our Humvee and stopped in the road. Then the gunfire began. It took out the radio operator and injured two more. We covered and fired back. I called for air support and got out of there. I couldn’t get to anyone to help them, and we had to return fire to keep them at bay. The gunfire continued behind us, and I thought we were finally out of range. Then my second took a round to the forehead.”

  “Oh God,” I whispered. We’d kept walking, but I stopped at that. Turning to face him, I lifted on my toes and pressed my forehead to his. “I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

  “I was done. Asked and as granted an immediate transfer to the states.” He leaned back and started walking again. “I’ve been out for about a year. There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think about Geoff and all the other guys we lost.”

  Silence fell between us. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? I understood? I didn’t. I was sorry? I was, but that didn’t mean much. Not really. And I didn’t think Quinn was the type of guy who wanted pity.

  “Are you from around here?” I asked instead. It sounded like a line. A cheesy line at that. The parking lot was just on the other side of the trees. Our date was coming to an end faster than I wanted it to.

  Quinn laughed. “Are you trying to pick me up, Miss Paquette?”

  “Thought I already had?”

  Quinn stopped and stared down into my eyes. The seriousness was back, and it made my heart race in directions I didn’t know were possible. He bent his head but stopped himself. “I’m not an easy man to be around sometimes, Emmy. There are days… I’m not myself. There are days I struggle to just get out of bed. Are you sure you want to be around a guy like me?”

  I swallowed hard. He hadn’t said why he had bad days, but he was trying to warn me off for some reason. Even though I’d gotten a deeper glimpse at Quinn, I still didn’t know him, but I felt safe with him. Safer than I’d ever felt with anyone else. I didn’t need to be defensive. And I didn’t need to pretend to be someone else, someone worthy of his attention. With Quinn, I was good enough as I was. I felt free. I felt like me, the real me I hide from everyone else. I felt like I did when I was dancing.

  “I’m sure,” I said, putting my hand on his scars. They were rough to the touch, but I didn’t care.

  Quinn bent his head down and pressed his lips gently against mine. My knees buckled, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep from falling. Quinn’s hands gripped my waist as his lips moved cautiously against mine. I opened myself up to him, but he didn’t take more than he could give. My body burned from my mouth to my toes. I wanted more of this man—more than just a simple kiss.

  He pulled back, and the intensity in his eyes melted me from the inside. The caution was there too. As much as I wanted to throw him down and rip his clothes off, he still wasn’t sure about this. About me.

  I needed to show him I wasn’t the type of girl to run at the first sign of danger. And to show him he wasn’t dangerous.

  Chapter Six

  My next few days were packed with papers, reading, and finishing two fluff pieces on events for the school paper. Fitting in the dance studio only crunched my time even more. Madame cast me as one of the more prominent, yet unnamed, villagers. Oh, joy. At least I was in the front. I tried not to seethe with jealousy, but I had a hard time stopping it. At least I had an outlet. My text messages with Quinn kept a smile on my face. I couldn’t wait to hear the ding on my phone.

  He hadn’t asked me out again.

  When my phone dinged on Tuesday morning, I was surprised to see Max’s name instead of Quinn’s.

  Need your feature by Friday. Get that story on the shelter.

&nb
sp; Initially, I was going to ignore it, but he sent an angry emoji. Something had gotten under his skin. Probably that freshman who he’d assigned an article about the dean’s workout schedule. It wasn’t exciting, but it was enough to make the dean happy.

  I replied with a thumbs-up emoji. My community service class was heading back to the shelter next class, which gave me plenty of time to interview the director before class. I could interview staff while I was there. Maybe even talk to a few of the people who stayed at the shelter. No problem.

  After rehearsal, I stayed for another thirty minutes to stretch and work on my plie. Madame had been on my case all through class because my feet were off by a centimeter. My feet were in line with everyone else’s. She was just doing what she always did to me. I was an example. My work was sloppy, my attention was nonexistent, and my, whatever else she would come up with, was not good enough. I worked harder than most people in the class just to keep my head above water. No matter what I did, I was in her crosshairs.

  “Hey, Emmy,” Ceci said, causing me to jump half out of my skin. Ceci laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “It’s okay.” I smiled and let my heels drop to the floor. “Great rehearsal today.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Ceci put her leg on the bar and reached over her head to touch her toes.

  My reporter’s nose could sense Ceci had a story. Whether it was gossip or something more, I didn’t know. This was one of those times to press. “What do you mean?”

  Ceci put her foot down and stood at first position, her hands clasped together in front of her midsection. She shrugged with the grace only a true prima ballerina possessed.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, closing the distance between us. “Are you okay?”

  That was all it took for Ceci to break down. She folded herself to the floor with such elegance it could’ve been a performance. The body racking sobs were one-hundred percent real. I sat beside her and put a hand on her arm.