Page 149 of Seven Lost Summers
“You know... the way we left her there. In that fucked-up town. After everything.” My jaw tightens. “Bianca dies, and we run. Meanwhile, Quinn stays behind, carrying it all.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just continues chewing before swallowing hard.
“Yeah,” he finally says, voice quieter now. “But you know why we had to go.”
I do. Of course I do.
We weren’t just running. We were crawling toward something that didn’t hurt to look at. The dream we both promised Bianca we’d follow. That town was a fucking graveyard. Every street, every beat of every song had her ghost stitched into it. Staying would’ve gutted us.
So we left. Packed up our grief with our gear and ran.
And Quinn. She fucking stayed in the ashes. In the silence. In the shadow of every place Bianca ever smiled.
“Where is she?” I ask, dragging my thumb along the label of my beer.
Nate runs a hand through his damp hair. “Shower.”
I nod. Cool. Casual. Pretending the word doesn’t hit low and dirty. That I’m not picturing her naked, dripping, soap sliding over that skin. Pretending I didn’t hear her scream his name so loud the neighbours probably need a cigarette.
“You’re falling for her,” I say.
The words come out low, barely a breath. No smirk. No sarcasm. Only the truth, stripped bare and dropped between us as though meaningless. When in reality, the truth is everything.
Nate freezes.
He turns his head, and meets my eyes.
And in that split second, I see everything. The weight pressing heavy in his chest. Not fear or doubt. Only the quiet fucking truth.
He’s already gone.
Already fucked.
The kind of fucked that rearranges your whole damn wiring.
And I understand.
God, I fucking understand.
Because saying the words out loud, that’s what makes everything real. That’s when the clock starts ticking. That’s when the universe starts looking for ways to rip it away from you, because nothing good ever lasts.
He probably won’t say the words. That’s easier. He’ll bury the truth. Shove the feeling down somewhere it can’t be seen or touched or stolen. Somewhere nothing can shatter the parts of us that are still bleeding.
But before I can get another word out, Quinn walks in.
And fuck me… everything stops. My pulse. My breath. Even the fucking earth stops spinning.
Her hair’s still wet, hanging in tangled strands that cling to her skin like they know how lucky they are. A loose oversized shirt hangs off one shoulder teasing the line of her chest, hitched just high enough to show the tops of her thighs.
Bare legs. Long, toned, but still slick in places the towel didn’t catch. And those fucking thighs my head was between days ago, my mouth buried in her like I needed the taste of her to stay alive.
Her eyes cut straight to us, pinning us both like she knows what we’ve been talking about.
She’s not just beautiful, she’s fucking lethal. And right now, she’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever seen.
Nate doesn’t say a word. Only fucking stares at her like his body forgot how to move.
She walks in slow, bare feet whispering against the tiles, skin still dewy from the heat of the shower. Her eyes flick to the pizza box, casual as if she didn’t just walk in here looking like sin itself.
