Dearborn

by Jenni Moen

  “I want to know what makes your heart ache, Quinn. I want you to tell me about every bruise and crack. I want you to name your demons so I can be beside you when you slay them. I want to be your therapy, Quinn.”

  His arms came around me, and he pulled me against him, his grip so tight I could barely breathe. “Come away with me. Let’s go to Louisville today like we planned. It will be good for us to escape for a little while.”

  “Are you sure you’re well enough?”

  He shifted on his feet as if testing them out. “Barely any pain at all.”

  “And your head?”

  “Perfectly fine.”

  “I have to finish my shift.”

  Somehow, his arms managed to squeeze me even tighter. “But that means I’ll have to let you go.”

  “I’ll come back. I promise.”

  He pulled away slightly, tipped my chin up, and brushed his lips against mine. His kiss was apologetic and hopeful. “If you must, but hurry back.”

  I skipped my way back across the yard, much lighter on my feet than I had been a few minutes before. “Get everything all patched up?” Ryan asked when I came in through the back door.

  “Yes,” I said, grabbing the coffee pot to make the rounds. The thank you I sent him was a non-verbal one garnering me a nod and a knowing look.

  I bounced through the diner filling cups to their brims because it was how I felt—filled to the brim. While I’d done most of the talking, he’d said what I needed to hear. I knew he regretted the things he’d said as surely as I knew the forgiveness pouring out of my heart.

  Someday soon, I hoped my confessions would mean something too.

  I approached Old Man Hansen with an unusually bright smile, even for me.

  He held his hand over the cup to stop me from filling it. “Well, you’re certainly in a better mood now. I assume the boy has something to do with all of these ups and downs.” He scooted his chair back to get up.

  I smiled sweetly, not about to let a grouchy old man—even one who might have been in love with Janice at one time—dampen my new good mood. I’d earned it. “Relationships are rarely easy, Mr. Hansen.”

  He grabbed the cane he’d propped against the wall. “Especially if they’re harder than they need to be. If you’d read the books, it would help your friend in the back, too.” He grumbled a few more unintelligible words and then muttered his goodbye.

  “He’s a weird, grouchy old man,” Ryan said when I got to the back again. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

  “I feel like he’s trying to tell me something. He keeps talking about books and you. Maybe we could have a real conversation if there weren’t other people around.”

  “Or maybe he would slice you up into Willow stew.”

  “Sick. I know you don’t believe that anyway. You’re the one who made hash browns for his dog.”

  “I’m not impervious to human—or inhuman—suffering, Willow. His dog was getting ready to die, and for some reason, he let me know it. That dog loved my hash browns, by the way.” Ryan slid another plate under the warmer. “Speaking of human and inhuman suffering, are you and Romeo still leaving town this afternoon?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave me a sly smile. “Good. Enjoy yourself.”

  I AWOKE WITH A START and sat straight up on the seat of Quinn’s truck. I looked out the window at the surrounding skyline. “Wait. Where are we?”

  He laughed from behind the wheel. “Your hair is going every which way. Did you have a nice nap?”

  I flipped the visor down and found the mirror to be cracked. Doing my best, I smoothed my hair back into place. “I did. I guess I needed it, huh? How long did I sleep?”

  “Long enough to surprise you. Did you sleep at all last night?”

  I shook my head sheepishly. “No, not much.”

  He gripped the wheel a little tighter and grimaced. “That’s my fault, and I’m sorry.” He was still beating himself up over the night before. There was enough azure melancholy and guilt in the car to wash us both away.

  “Stop. We’re all good now.” I squinted out the window, wanting to change the subject before his bad mood worsened and made me ill. I’d downed as much tea as I could before we’d left. On the road with Quinn was not the time to get sick. There was no refuge to be found in his truck. “Are we in Cincinnati?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did I really sleep all the way through Louisville?”

  “You fell asleep not long before we went through there.”

  “And you thought you’d keep driving until I woke up?” I asked. He’d taken us twice as far as we needed to go.

  “Nope. I couldn’t believe my luck when you fell asleep. It couldn’t have worked out more perfectly.”

  I gazed out the window longingly. “But the store I like is in Louisville.”

  “Lowes?” he asked with a chuckle. “Cincinnati has a few of those as well.”

  “Oh, really? That’s good,” I said, nestling back into the seat. A spring poked me in the back and I remembered why I’d slumped over in the first place. Quinn’s truck was a heap, but since we were shopping for some big items, it hadn’t made sense to bring my little car.

  “You don’t get out of Woodland Creek much, do you?” A playful smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

  “Not really. Never have much of a reason to.”

  “You know there’s an entire world out there. Look, just today you’ve been in three states.”

  “Right, but I missed one of them,” I said, yawning. “I can’t believe I slept the whole trip. I’m sorry I’m such bad company.”

  “I like watching you sleep.”

  “That’s so romantic and creepy.”

  Quinn laughed as he exited the highway, taking us right into the heart of downtown.

  “So what are we doing in Cincinnati?”

  “We’re almost there. Don’t ruin the surprise.”

  We rode in silence. With each passing block, Quinn’s level of excitement rose, tinting the truck a tangerine color that gave me the warm fuzzies. After a few more turns, he pulled up outside an old brick building with something of a theater-style entry. The sign inset into the brick façade boasted quite auspiciously that the building was some sort of museum.

  “A museum?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

  “I decided we need toilets, faucets, and culture. This place has it all.”

  “And a valet,” I said as my door opened.

  “Ma’am,” the tight-faced valet said. “Checking in?”

  “Quinn?” I turned to ask him, but he was already outside the car. “I’m not sure what we’re doing. You’ll have to ask the man in charge,” I answered as I hopped out of the truck and let the valet shut the door behind me.

  Quinn and the valet spoke in hushed tones to each other while I stood patiently waiting on the sidewalk by the front door. Finally, the valet nodded and took the keys from Quinn. As he walked around it, he sized up the truck and found it obviously lacking. “Feel free to front park it,” Quinn said with a smirk.

  “You’re terrible,” I said as we walked inside.

  “Did you see the way that jackass was looking at my truck?”

  “He doesn’t know you’ve had it since high school.”

  “Actually, I think he does and that’s the problem.”

  “Forget him,” I said, looking around. The outside of the building had all of the adornments of a historic landmark, but the inside was completely new and modern. A cluster of couches and chairs sat in a big open area to the left of the large heavy front doors.

  “Why don’t you sit while I go take care of something?” Quinn walked away from me without even a hint of a limp. The fact he’d gone from relegated to wearing a boot for six weeks to walking again perfectly within less than twenty-four hours was some kind of miracle.

  He disappeared around a corner, and I did as instructed, taking a seat on a white leather sofa. It was tufted and sleek, and I suddenly felt as unsoph
isticated as our mode of transportation. I looked down at my jeans and wondered again why we were here. There was a restaurant to my right, but I was sure they had a dress code. A woman in a mink stole and the skinniest high heels I’d ever seen clipped her way out of the restaurant and past me, confirming those suspicions. The Metro made Pond & Duck look like Burger King.

  “We’re all set. Ready?” Quinn asked, sneaking up behind me.

  “Ready for what?” I asked. “If you were planning on having dinner here, I’m afraid we’re underdressed.”

  He smiled a simple, reassuring smile. “We can talk about it later. Come with me.” He held his hand out to help me up, and we walked hand-in-hand to the elevators. The tiles around the elevator doors were an intricate mosaic of light blues, pinks, and lavenders—all of my favorite Quinn colors. The good colors. Unfortunately, they didn’t reflect Quinn’s mood. Not exactly anyway. He was a rainbow of conflict as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Jumpy and nervous, yellow mixed in with the good colors. I squeezed his hand, thinking how completely odd it was that I’d come to accept this as a new form of normal. He was spectacularly beautiful and sexy as sin in my eyes. I pitied those who didn’t see him in living color as I did.

  The doors opened, and we stepped inside. The ride to the sixth floor took no time at all, and when the doors opened again, I finally realized why the valet had asked if we were checking in. It was possible the museum had a museum in it somewhere, but it was also a hotel.

  I let go of Quinn’s hand and whipped around so I was standing in front of him, blocking his path. “We can’t stay the night.” His face fell, gutting me. My voice was a whisper. “The diner, Quinn.” I’d never regretted the decision I’d made to keep the diner running after Janice had died—never before that moment. But it tied me down, taking away alternatives I’d never considered before. I was suddenly tired. So, so tired.

  “Ryan and Les have it covered.” He smirked.

  “Les? He’s worked there two days. Only one of which was he an actual employee.”

  “I think, between the two of them, they can figure it out.”

  “Or burn it down.” I looked longingly down the hall. “Which one is ours?”

  “Number 610. Do you want to see it before you decide?”

  “Can we?”

  “Come on.” He grinned wide and then pulled me down the hall. After scanning the key, he propped the door open and stepped aside so I could pass.

  A bounty of white assaulted me. The bed linens were white, the couch was white, even the bathroom was floor to ceiling white. Only the carpet, a few accent pieces, and a hopeful Quinn added color to the room. It was a blank canvas, waiting for his color to fill it.

  “Well?”

  “It’s beautiful.” My eyes fell again on the double beds.

  “I’m a restless sleeper,” he said as if it was explanation enough.

  It wasn’t.

  Two beds was one too many in my opinion, but the fact that he was willing to sleep in the same building with me was progress. And they looked soft and clean and heavenly. I could use a night away. A morning when I could actually sleep in would be a dream come true. Would my body even allow me such a luxury after years and years of getting up before four? Wouldn’t I like to find out? Surely, Ryan and Les couldn’t run the diner into the ground in one day.

  It would also keep us away from Woodland Creek for most of the weekend, which was a good thing. Halloween weekend marked the end of the month-long celebration in the old part of Woodland Creek. It wasn’t something Quinn would be welcome at even if I could tell him about it. The guest list was exclusive to only those with magic running through their blood.

  A knock at the door startled me. Quinn walked past me to open it. The valet from downstairs stepped inside with two bags in his hand. “Where would you like these?” he asked.

  Quinn arched an eyebrow at me in question.

  “Right there is fine. Thank you.” A grin spread across my face.

  Quinn shoved a few dollars toward him and quickly ushered him out.

  “You packed a bag for me?” I asked.

  “Nah. Ryan called Vanessa over to help. She packed your bag for me,” he said, shocking me. I was almost as flabbergasted Vanessa had helped him as I was that we were here in the first place. It wasn’t as if she and I were good friends. Maybe I hadn’t given her a fair chance, though. “I certainly wouldn’t have had any idea what to pack. Besides, I figured I shouldn’t be digging through your panties before I’ve been in them.”

  I snorted. “That would seem like some sort of breach of privacy. Where did you hide them?” I asked, pointing to the bags.

  “They were in the bed of the truck. Good thing it didn’t rain or we’d be wearing wet clothes tomorrow.”

  The fact Quinn pulled off this grand gesture suddenly overwhelmed me, and I pounced on him. We fell back together on one of the beds, and it was a little like falling into a cloud. “This is amazing, Quinn. I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” He rolled over and propped himself up over me, causing my heart to dance in my chest. We were alone in a hotel room, a hundred miles away from all of our worries and fears. I desperately hoped they hadn’t chased after us and would find us.

  “I figured I owed you a big-time apology,” he said, watching my mouth as he always did when he was contemplating kissing me. His fingers threaded through mine, pinning my hands to the bed. If I could peel my eyes away from his, I knew I’d find the white bedding purple with desire.

  “It was forgotten hours ago,” I promised, willing him to stop talking and act on what we both clearly wanted.

  “Not by me. I hate that I hurt you. This is exactly what I feared would happen.” His voice was deep and rough. He closed his eyes as if the memory of it haunted him.

  “You don’t want to hurt me and that’s enough for me.” My heart pounded in my chest. “You can kiss me now, Quinn.”

  His lips brushed against mine with a reverence reflecting my own devotion to him. Our tongues danced—tasting, devouring, and begging for more. Kissing Quinn was like standing in the midst of a raging thunderstorm. Desire rolled around us like dark, dangerous thunderclouds threatening to pour down upon us at any moment. Need sparked all around us, causing the ball of yearning in my stomach to catch fire. My hands clutched at him. My fingers dug into his skin even through his shirt. If he didn’t take me soon, I was going to be the one who detonated.

  He rolled away, sitting up on the edge of the bed, leaving me ruffled and befuddled. “We better get ready.”

  “Ready for what?” I reluctantly rolled to the other side of the bed and sat with my back to him while I got my bearings. I am ready! I wanted to scream. Why wasn’t he ready? Why was it so easy for him to push me away?

  “We’re going out. We have things to check off our list.”

  I sighed and stood. I grabbed my bag and threw it on the now empty bed with a force reflective of my frustration. I looked up to find him watching me with a thoughtful expression. Not much got by him.

  I turned my back to him and dug through my bag to see what Vanessa had packed for me. “What’s the dress code for tonight?” I asked, pulling out the black dress from the night before. I couldn’t really blame Vanessa. She didn’t know what I’d worn the night before, and it was probably all she’d been able to find in my closet, which was filled mostly with clothes suitable for food slinging. “Vanessa packed the dress I wore last night.” I could hear the irritation in my voice.

  His arms came around my waist and pulled me against him. He might have pushed me away, but I could feel through his jeans he hadn’t necessarily wanted to. His lips brushed against my neck, and I melted into him again. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I doubt there’s much overlap between the crowd downstairs and the crowd last night.”

  “You’re the only one I care about, and you’ve already seen me in it.” I looked sadly at the dress as I dropped it on the bed.

  “And I can’t wait to see
you in it again,” he said, moving against me. “Don’t think this is easy, Willow. Denying myself is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Can’t you feel how much I want you?” His voice was husky. His breath was warm on my skin but created goosebumps in its wake. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But what if I’m not good for you? I showed my true colors last night.”

  I shook my head. The only thing his colors had shown me was he was conflicted and angry and equally as remorseful. “They were just words. I wasn’t in any real danger.”

  “Words can inflict as much damage as a hand, Willow.”

  “Quinn—”

  He cut me off. “Sometimes, I feel so out of control. I don’t know where I am or what I’m saying. Sometimes, I don’t even know who or what I am anymore.” His arms tightened around me. “There’s a monster living inside of me, Willow. I can feel him fighting for control, making me do things I don’t understand. I don’t want you to be another casualty on my hands.”

  I turned in his arms and wrapped my own around him. I laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I’m not afraid of you, Quinn Dearborn. I’m afraid for you. You are a good man with a pure heart. I know this, but this guilt you carry on your shoulders is going to eat you alive. I don’t know what you’ve been through. I can’t even possibly imagine or understand it, but whatever happened, you need to talk about it.” I closed my eyes, as my breathing seemed to synchronize with his. “Talk to me. You aren’t alone.”

  He sucked in a ragged breath. “Okay. But not tonight. This trip is supposed to be relaxing and fun, so let’s pretend for one night I’m not messed up and you’re not affected by it.”

  I looked at him with a question lingering on my lips and a confession on its heel.

  “What?” he continued. “You seem to be able to read me like a book. I must wear my emotions all over my face. Maybe I shouldn’t have shaved my beard so I could remain a mystery to you for a little longer.”