Page 27 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

I really am a dick. “I’m glad.”

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Quinn sets her wine aside and stands.

“Good idea.” I kick myself for being a shitty human. Claude’s words drift back to me, but I fear it might be too late for me to play nice. What she sees is what she gets with me.

Quinn disappears into the bedroom and shuts the door. It’s only then I remember Rob’s instructions about showers and bandages. Fuck. She’ll figure it out quick enough.

I shove my chair back and take my dirty dishes to the sink. As I wash them, I try to ignore the burning image teasing my half-drunk brain.

Quinn. Naked. Wet.

And there’s only one bed.

Fuck.

I’m never going to survive this.

Chapter Ten

Quinn

This is a bad idea. Staying here. Being close to Grant. Letting him see me like this. Letting him help me.

Maybe I’d be better off on my own. A nameless face in the crowd milling about the city. I can take care of myself out there. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.

When mom brought home that deadbeat and dropped the bombshell she was married, I thought my world had imploded. I could handle Jim and his obsession with Jack Daniels, but his son pushed me over the edge. Billy ruined everything and gave me my first taste of lonely freedom.

Tarnished memories of my childhood rear their ugly heads, and I jerk the bathroom door closed behind me. I cleaned the bathroom earlier today—it took a lot of elbow grease to get the fixtures to shine and the grime off the tiles. But the thought of taking a long, hot shower gives me the boost I need after the last two days.

Thankfully, the button-down shirt doesn’t give me any trouble when I strip it off, but the moment I step into the shower, the bandages soak up the water. Fuck.

The stitches pull my skin tight. Warmth seeps through the cotton and soothes the itch beneath.

It does nothing to ease the ache from earlier with Grant. His gruff but well-meaning concern left me bewildered and desperate for even a scrap of attention.

Aware of my injuries pulsing in protest, I wash my hair and scrub my skin with the floral soap Claude brought up. When I step out of the shower, I almost feel human again.

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