by Anyta Sunday
I took it all in, slowly going over the information, a fraction relieved that Mitch might not have been malicious from the start. I was about to speak when Quinn shifted and said, “The night we first met. The one with Freddy . . .”
I shuddered. “You were there with her?”
“She left the party without me. I only found her once Freddy was crawling away. You asked about it after the hospital. I’m sorry I lied.”
“To protect your friend.” Honor, something I understood. I moved my leg so it met with his and I wiggled my toes on the arch of his foot. He was there. He was all right. My voice croaked as I spoke, “I was scared tonight. It seized me so tightly. I thought I wouldn’t be able to do anything. But when Jack had that gun . . .” I scratched at an invisible itch on my arm. “I’m relieved you’re okay.”
He held my gaze squarely, but there was a hiccup to his breath. “Liam?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something else I want to say. I . . . I . . .” He shut his eyes and expelled his breath slowly before reopening his eyes and feeling for my hand under the sheets. “I like how you allow yourself time to think things through. How you waited until you were sure that you wanted to make this work. Between us.”
Fingers curled around mine. “Everything you set your mind to do, you do with a perfectionist’s heart. And I know you want to do perfect by your friends too.”
I said, “‘Aim for the moon; even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.’ W. Clement Stone.”
He laughed. “That’s why I love you, Liam.”
I jerked at that and Quinn squeezed my hand gently. Tightness thickened my middle and my throat wouldn’t let any words pass. I blinked in his smile and felt the gentle tremors pass from him to me.
He said softly, “It touches me, the way you show your love.”
I shifted, lifting my knees and curling my free arm around them. The blanket slipped, but I wasn’t feeling the cold anymore. I’d always been told in the past that I wasn’t very good at showing my affection. How could Quinn see it, then? And how could it touch him?
As if he read my mind, he nudged his shoulder against mine, and when I glanced at him, he stole my lips into a soft kiss. “You stole my computer, cracked my password, and finished my essay when I was sick. You go over my work when you’re busy with your own.” His nose brushed against mine. “You chose to help me instead of finishing Dating for the Differently-Abled.”
“It’s a good piece,” I said, untangling our fingers. “It can still be featured in the next Scribe.”
Another lingering kiss. His whispered words, falling over my bottom lip and the tip of my chin. “I know what it really meant to you.”
I pulled back a bit so I could keep eye contact. “Yes, and in an ideal world, I would have landed the features editor position and got my father to notice me. But—” I brought a hand to the back of his neck and played with his bleached hair, “—tonight it came down to you or my father.”
“Thank you for choosing me,” Quinn said again, rolling his neck at my touch.
My fingers skated to his shoulder. “You were the one there at Thanksgiving. You are the one that makes the apartment feel like home.” I looked at him levelly. “This was not a choice, Quinn. I did not need to hum and ahh over my options. The answer was in bold and circled with a giant checkmark at the side.”
I leaned in and kissed his wobbling lip. “It was always going to be you.”
EPILOGUE
The chief curled a finger at me from his doorway. Hunter, peeling the stickers off my stapler, sent me a wink. The kind of wink that said Go get ’em, tiger, the kind that had every bit of confidence in me.
Confidence I’d lost somewhere in the twenty-eighth ranking of the BCA competition.
Chewing enthusiastically on a mint she’d pinched from my drawer, Hannah grabbed her issue of the Post-Gazette and dumped it in front of me with a smile. “You’ll do fine, Liam. This article makes you look really good. Chief won’t be able to argue with that.”
I clapped my eyes on the folded page. Strange how two columns should sum up the events of the night before, when those few moments felt like a lifetime.
It was woefully inadequate.
I pushed my chair back—
Ompf!
Twisting, I came face-to-face with Jill, who sidestepped around my chair. He stood as if his ass was itching and he couldn’t reach the spot. His arms folded and refolded; his gaze met mine defiantly and, with the twitch of his jaw, softened from burning charcoal to mere charcoal.
Across the room, the chief had ducked back into his office. “Make it quick,” I said to him, “I’ve got a meeting with Chief Benedict.”
Jill jerked his head to the side, his bangs sweeping out of his eyes. His gaze slipped to Hunter, and a light blush spread over his cheeks. He looked away again. “I just . . .” He pulled out a rolled-up Scribe from his back pocket and it landed on top of the Post-Gazette. He cleared his throat. “The last few party page columns . . .” He shrugged, again glancing toward Hunter. “They could’ve been worse, is all.”
Hunter placed my newly-naked stapler on my desk and I straightened it next to my inbox trays. “Pain in the ass you are, Jill,” I said, “but chief was right to put you in editing. You don’t do a half-bad job.”
The barest edges of a grin touched his lips, but quickly disappeared behind a grunted, “Thanks.”
“Also . . .” Jill said, backing away from my desk only to knock into Hunter’s chair, “Shit.” He grabbed the arm of the chair and Hunter reached out to steady him with a curious-blue gaze. Jill froze for a moment before coming to his senses and yanking his hand back.
“Also?” I asked, peeking up to the chief’s open door as I stood.
Jill shrugged. “I mean, you left your laptop and notes on Jack’s desk.”
“I’ve since retrieved them.”
“That wasn’t what I . . . never mind.” He twisted, carefully rounding Hunter’s chair. “See you around.”
He stormed back to his corner of the office, and Hunter and I shared a stumped look. Then he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Get to the chief—and if it comes up, slip in a good word for me, yeah?”
Hannah’s phone rang and she hurriedly answered as I clipped my way to Chief Benedict.
He sat in his office chair, reading off some crinkled sheets of letter paper. “Sit.”
I sat.
“I don’t think it’s going to give you everything you’re searching for, Liam.”
I gripped the metal frame of the seat, palms pushing on the vinyl upholstery. “Excuse me, sir?”
He whisked the paper he’d been reading toward me. “You’ve got the features editor position. This was brilliant.”
Frowning, I picked up the sheets and glanced over them. This was my article. My draft had been shaped up and edited. I blinked down at my words, tweaked in places for flow and impact.
I glanced over my shoulder and through the chief’s open door, but I couldn’t see Jill’s desk. I read over the opening paragraph again, and then the Dating the Differently-Abled title, and my name underneath.
My fingers smoothed the paper and I set it down. “Thank you, chief.”
“Thank you, Liam, for embracing my challenge to you for the semester. You’ve grown in leaps and bounds.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his mouth a worried line. “You wanted this really badly—dare I say, desperately—and I’m concerned you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”
He shifted in his seat so I was looking at his profile and the cathedral behind him. He got up and came around to my side, stretching out a hand for me to shake. I took it. His squeeze was warm, comforting. “Whatever you decide to do once you’re done here, you’ll do splendidly.”
“But?”
“But I’m not a fool, Liam. I know who your father is. Everyone knows who he is. I also know that for the last four years you’ve spent every Thanksgiving in the office.”
Except for this year, I wanted to add. Except that wasn’t his point and I knew it.
I let go of his hand with an acknowledging nod and slipped my glasses higher. “I’m not going to be disappointed,” I said. “I’m still aiming for the moon, but even if I don’t get it . . .” I thought of Hannah, Shannon, Hunter, and especially Quinn.
I didn’t finish the sentence; I didn’t need to.
I stood from the chair, nodded once more to the chief, and headed back out to my friends.
THE END
Acknowledgments
As always, thank you first to my wonderful husband. Your support is what enables me to write. I love you for it.
Big thanks to Caroline Wimmer for the amazing cover art! I love how well it captures the mood and setting of the story.
Teresa Crawford: cheers for helping me to structure this story, especially during those first developmental stages, when I wasn’t quite sure where the characters were heading. Your input was gold.
To editor Lynda Lamb, for going through and tweaking all those spelling errors and missing words. And for all the emailing back and forth with encouraging words. I value your approachability.
Thanks to HJS Editing for copyediting. It’s been a great experience working with you. Your edits helped not only with the grammar and tightening of sentences, but made my American characters actually sound American. Thanks for being so thorough and for all your professionalism. I also appreciated all the laughs we had regarding our British/American language differences . . .
Another cheers to Vicki for reading and offering valuable feedback, and smiles to Sunne for being one of the first to read, and for catching those plot holes. Thanks also for your enthusiasm. I love that you care for Liam so much—I do too.
Finally, thanks to all my friends—you know who and how awesome you are!
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
EPILOGUE
Acknowledgments
