Page 24 of Tin

So, keeping my voice as low and as calm as I can, I ask her, “Who hits you, Quinn?”

Her head shoots up to turn in my direction, and I know before she even lies to me that I’m right. “No one hits me. Why would you even ask something like that?”

My jaw locks, and the tension builds within me. But I can’t let her see it. So I take a silent breath in before I answer her. “Yesterday, when I found you...you didn’t fight back against Carson. It was like some sort of deeply ingrained instinct kicked in. Like you were prey to some wild animal, and you knew your best chance of survival was just to play dead.”

I expect her to counter with some bullshit reason, but she doesn’t. She just stares at me blankly.

“And then when Carson came at me and I swung at him, you flinched. Like you thought you were the one I was aiming at. Your face froze up with fear, and then you just started shaking. For a moment I thought your entire system was shutting down on me.” It scared me. Really fucking scared me.

She still doesn’t answer me. Just lies her head back down on my chest and absentmindedly begins to drum her fingers on my palm.

“Remember when you asked me how Harley lost his leg?”

I remember, but she doesn’t really need me to confirm that.

“I was barely nineteen. And this guy...he attacked me. Harley was there. He tried to protect me, but the guy was big...and strong. He threw Harley across the room like it was nothing. I was on the ground and there were too many things blocking my view to see it happen, but I heard this god-awful thud as Harley hit the wall, and then a heartbreaking yelp. The impact broke his back. He had to relearn how to walk. And the front leg, it just never recovered. For weeks, he just sort of dragged it along, like dead weight. Finally, the vet said it would be best to just take it. So that’s what they did.”

Her tone is eerily empty. Like she’s told the story before. Many times.

All I want to do is pull her close. Protect her. Create a world for her in which the monsters in her mind can’t reach her. But I can’t even do that for myself. So how could I possibly give it to her?

“What happened to the man who attacked you?”

She doesn’t even blink. “I killed him.” Then, before I can ask her again, she gets up onto her side. “Or maybe he got swallowed whole by the devil for attacking a defenseless girl and her puppy. Who can recall? He’d certainly deserve it.”

She’s making jokes. About things that aren’t funny. She’s done sharing. Probably already regretting having opened up to me this much. So I let it go. For now.

“Hey, let me see your phone.” I stretch out my arm, but she’s got her weight on it, so I can’t reach it on my own.

“Why? Are you going to call my sister? Because that could be interesting.” She hands it over skeptically.

“No, I’m not getting in the middle of that. I’ll beat up other guys for you, but I’m not taking on your sister. She scares me.” I unlock her screen by tapping the number five four times. I saw her do it earlier. It’s not much of a security code, and I make a mental note to mock her for it later.

“Then what are you doing?” She leans in so far that she blocks my view of the phone.

“Would you move your big-ass head out of my way so I can see the screen? I’m trying to add my number to your contact list.”

Stumped, she actually drops back. “What for?”

I finish punching in the number and then hit call. Now I have hers as well. “So that the next time someone sets you up on a blind date, you can call me and I’ll come pick you up before the douchebag gets there.”

I hand the phone back to her, and she smirks. “Well, I might as well just delete it again, then, because I’m sure as hell not going out on any more blind dates.”

Her fingers fly over the screen, and I clasp my hand around them to stop her. “Keep it anyway. Use it. Don’t use it. I don’t care. But I want you to have it. Just in case.”

This time her quirky little mouth holds still. No smirk. No mocking grin. Just her. Nodding.

QUINN

I seeher before I even step one foot inside. Kirsten. She’s in my room, pacing back and forth with such force that she reminds me of a tornado ripping through my place. I’m kind of expecting to see the floorboards busted out and strewn all over from the impact.

“Where the hell have you been?” She lunges for me the second I open the door. “And don’t give me some bullshit about being out running, because I’ve been in this room all night waiting for you. I know you haven’t been home. And I know for damn sure those aren’t your clothes.”

I glance down at the oversize t-shirt and drawstring shorts I’m wearing. “They could be mine. You don’t know what all I have.”

“Don’t give me that. You don’t fucking own a Mötley Crüe shirt. And don’t try to distract me!” I think she’s a little extra pissed now because it worked. Even if it was only temporarily.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was at a friend’s house. And yes, he let me borrow some clothes so I wouldn’t have to walk down the beach in the dress you got me.” Which incidentally, I no longer own since I watched Riker throw it into the garbage can right before he dragged it out to the curb to be picked up.

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