Page 65 of Toxic Obsession

“You could have stopped Kyler, and you know it. You didn’t even try hard,” he seethed.

“I did! I tried everything, and nobody believed me.” I clawed at his hands as he tried to block my punches, tears streaming down my cheeks with his brutal words. “You’re a liar just like the rest of them. None of you care! I fucking hate every goddamn person who judged me for Kyler’s choices.” I hiccupped, my fight with Quinn slowing.

Finally, my fists dropped to my sides as my body shook with my sobs. “I trusted you. I trusted you, Quinn. You were the first guy that’s ever taken me on a date and kissed me goodnight. I wanted there to be an us. The other night in your bed, it was different. You were attentive and kind, and I really thought you had feelings for me.” I scoffed at my stupidity. “I wanted you to fall for me. I needed to be fucking normal again.” I covered my face with my hands, crying so hard I couldn’t talk anymore.

I gasped for air as Quinn wrapped his arms around me and pulled me down against him. He stroked my hair, “I know, beautiful. Get it out, baby.” He kissed the top of my head. “All that shit people said to you, all the judgments, just let it go. I’m right here, and I’ll make sure you’re safe. I swear on Bell’s grave to protect you, even if it means I follow you to every class, every stop. No one will hurt you again. No one.”

My sobs quieted as I realized what Quinn had done. He’d baited me until I could no longer deny the rage and pain, then he let me take it out on him. He had just laid still, taken my wrath and absorbed my agony. For the first time since that horrifying day at school, I’d released a bit of the toxic emotions I’d shoved down for the last five years. I relaxed against his warm body, allowing myself to be held by one of the few people that understood my world—understood the horror of losing a sibling and any semblance of a life we’d once had. The grief of not being able to stop any of it.

I sat up slowly, my attention landing on his nose. “You should have that reset.” Staring at his bloodied shirt, I glanced down at mine. My top was covered in my hate and need to make Quinn pay.

“I might look sexy with a bump in my nose.”

I rolled my eyes, cracking a smile. “I should be sorry that I hit you, but I’m not. Iamsorry that every time you look in a mirror and see a crooked nose, you’ll think about me.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” Quinn tucked my hair behind an ear. “I should get cleaned up.”

Slowly, I crawled off him. “I have your blood all over me.” I held up my palms, still slick with the sticky substance.

“At least it’s no longer Bell’s or Kyler’s.”

I stared at him as if he’d just handed me a check for two million dollars. “You no longer blame me?” My chest tightened, desperate to hear at least one person say they didn’t hold me accountable for what happened.

“I no longer blame you, beautiful. I never should have.” Quinn pressed a gentle kiss to my temple before he disappeared into the bathroom. If I was this emotional now, what would tomorrow look like when I returned to classes and waited to see if the dean wanted to talk to me.

Shit. I needed a plan of my own that didn’t involve Quinn swooping in to rescue me. At least I wouldn’t let myself down.

Chapter35

Wynter

As expected, I received a call that the dean of Whitmore University wanted to see me bright and early Monday morning. I’d hardly slept a wink, anticipating that I would be sitting in front of him explaining the video Quinn had released to the world.

My hands trembled as I waited to meet with him. I was too fucking nervous to wait in the lobby and chose to pace in the hall, wearing grooves in the ugly brown carpet.

I’d decided not to text Quinn and instead speak to the dean myself. I didn’t want to rely on anyone. Plus, if I gave Quinn the appointment time and he had an excuse not to attend … I rubbed my temples at the thought of being disappointed by him yet again. I wished there was a way to turn back the clock so that Kyler had never hurt anyone and I wouldn’t be facing the collapse of my future now. No use harping on it, though. I just had to take hold of my life and make it what I wanted.

The door to the Dean’s office creaked open slowly.

“Ms. Baldwin, Dean Holcomb will see you now,” the pretty blonde said, ushering me inside.

“Thank you.” I smoothed my green blouse and black slacks. This meeting called for nicer clothes, and I was determined to make a good impression.

My leather purse was slung over my shoulder, and I gripped the strap, hanging onto it for dear life. At least the sweat from my palm had a place to transfer to other than my top.

The dean’s assistant seemed pleasant enough and offered me a warm smile as I passed her and entered his office.

“Ms. Baldwin.” Dean Holcomb removed his glasses and motioned for me to have a seat in front of his desk.

Slipping into the black chair, I clutched my bag to my stomach and glanced around the room. To my surprise, the dean was older, probably in his sixties, with light brown hair and streaks of grey. His stern gaze landed on me, making me squirm in my seat.

“It’s come to my attention that there’s a video circulating about a very serious incident at a high school in Washington State.”

I gulped as sweat beaded across my forehead. Reminding myself not to rush into the conversation, I bit my tongue and forced myself to remain quiet. I had to see where the dean was going first.

“Once the video landed in my email, I did some research and found that the information is true.”

“Yes, sir.” Pain stabbed me in the stomach and I stared at the floor, wondering if I would ever be free of the ridicule from my brother’s horrible choices.

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