Page 5 of Something like Redemption

But somehow, I don’t think it’ll be that easy.

So this is what guilt feels like.

Staring at my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror, I have an urge to smash my fist through the glass, shattering the appearance before me because I hate what I see.

I have destroyed so many people’s lives—good people.

I’d do anything to trade places with Hank because he deserves to be alive, not me.As for Quinn, he deserves to be free.And I plan on setting that one thing right because that’s the only thing I can control.

“Red?” Quinn knocks softly. “Everything okay?”

I sigh. He should hate me for everything I’ve done. But he doesn’t.

But he will.

“I’m fine, Quinn. I’ll be out in a minute.”

With my hands braced on the edge of the sink, I take a deep breath, needing a sea of courage for what I have planned.I step out wearing my pj’s. I’m beat and want to catch up on a little sleep before I make good on my plan.

However, all plans of sleep are thrown out the window when I see Quinn slumped forward on the end of the bed, head cradled in his hands, his foot tapping frantically.

“Quinn?” I ask, rushing over to him, my heart in my throat.

As he lifts his head, his bright emerald eyes peek out from under his long, messy bangs.“He’s going to be okay,” he says, a breath leaving his chest in a whoosh of relief.

“Oh, thank God.”

Quinn nods, holding up Tabitha’s iPhone.

“Abi just texted. Said it was a close call, but he’s just come out of surgery and the doctor said he’s going to be fine.”

I step toward Quinn, embracing him.

He wraps his warm arms around my waist and presses his head to my belly. We stay this way for a while, both needing the comfort of this connection.

And I need it because it’ll be the last time I hug him.

I’m trying to feign sleep while Quinn is in the shower because tonightis when I make things right. Knowing that Tristan will be okay is a small weight lifted off my shoulders, but it’s still not enough.

When I hear the shower switch off, I shut my eyes, hoping sleep will be kind to me—but it’s not. My eyes snap open, and no matter how tired I am, I don’t think I will ever be able to get a sound night’s sleep ever again.

Quinn strolls out of the bathroom, switching off the lights.It’s dark out, so the only light illuminating the room is from a dim streetlight just outside our window. I beg my eyes to shut, but as soon as they fall onto Quinn’s bare, chiseled chest, they do the opposite and open wider. He’s a work of art, which is funny, considering he’s the artist.

I’ve seen his work, and it should be hanging in a gallery somewhere. I think about the sketchbook he showed me all those nights ago and remember the sketch of Hank. His kind gray eyes came alive onto paper, Quinn capturing him perfectly.

But now, I’ll never see his light ever again.

I don’t realize I’m crying until Quinn slips under the covers and pulls me against his warm chest.

“Shh,” he soothes while brushing the tendrils of hair off my face that are sticking to my fallen tears.“It’ll be okay.”

This just makes me cry harder because it’ll never be okay.But I allow this one moment of vulnerability because there will be no more after it.

I can’t stop the avalanche of tears, and when Quinn pulls away, kissing them softly, more follow in their place. His lip ring caresses my cheeks, sending chills down my spine, and a warmth pools in my belly.

He senses my desperate need to wash away this hollowing pain and softly pulls my lips toward his, kissing me with a deep longing.I moan the moment my lips meet his, tangling with his tongue as he slips it into my welcoming mouth.His barbell gets me so hot, and as our tongues move wildly, devouring each other, the cool metal piercing only adds to the pleasure of kissing Quinn.

Before long, we’re pulling at one another frantically as the space between us, which is mere inches, is too far. Quinn hitches up my leg, wrapping it around him, and slides me onto him with ease.

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