Page 72 of Thirst Trap (Carter Brothers)

“You didn’t leave.”

A statement, not a question.

He looked toward me at the sound of my voice, then gently shook his head. “I’m contemplating life.”

I turned my body toward him, wondering if being so stiff should be worrisome.

“What are you contemplating?” I wondered.

He linked his fingers behind his head, then went back to staring out the window.

The building across the street had some window washers hanging from the roof with chains and wire.

“I was thinking about how I should’ve gotten rid of Elliette years ago,” I said. “I should’ve never encouraged a friendship. And when I found out about her not telling me you called during that theater shooting… I knew right then and there she wasn’t the friend I thought she was.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” I mused. “We can question it all we want now, but it’s not going to change the outcome.”

He nodded, swallowing hard enough I watched his throat bob and the veins in his neck pulse.

“I want to kill her,” he admitted.

My eyes widened. “Quinn…”

“I want to rip her limb from limb, toss her still beating heart into a pool of gasoline, and light her on fire,” he whispered darkly.

Whoa.

For Quinn to be so quietly scary was sending shivers down my spine.

And not bad shivers, either.

I liked the ruthless side of him.

It didn’t come out to play much, but when it did, stand back.

“Listen, Quinn,” I said softly. “You can’t change the past. You can only make better decisions in the future. Making friends is hard, and you are not a bad person for trusting someone who turned out to be off their rocker.”

His eyes turned to me, blank and expressionless. “You can tell me I couldn’t have controlled it all you want,” he growled. “But it’s not something that’ll ever fix itself. I’ll carry the pain of this day in my heart for the rest of my life.”

I felt my heart kick at his words. “Quinn…”

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he whispered, causing my heart to twinge. “Tomorrow morning is soon enough to talk more about this.”

He was right.

I was tired.

It was likely he was tired.

And words needed exchanged, and you always accomplished more on a full night of sleep.

Not that I’d be getting that, since they were waking me up every hour per hospital protocol for concussion.

“Sleep.”

He kissed my cheek, and I forced myself to close my eyes.

Maybe he was right.

---