Quinn
I'm in a bad way, hard up, feeling things I shouldn't, and I'm not even bothering with denial any more. Being near Cash, especially after he opened his heart to me, obliterates any other wariness I had of his past, and being trapped with him in his condo makes me want to fall back into his warm, familiar embrace. I can smell his sweet, familiar scent—honey, cinnamon, and peppermint toothpaste on his breath. I can feel his eyes on me as I tidy his condo and make us lunch.
After he took some Tylenol and lay down on his bed because he was feeling weak and dizzy, I lay on his couch, thinking about our past, present mess, and maybe future. I think of how much he hurt me but how much I've missed him, too, and I wonder if I could ever give him a second chance. I think about him pouring his heart out to me last night and then the two of us falling asleep together on his bed. After all, without Cash, my sleep has been restless. God, I've missed the way he spoons me. While he naps, I find myself antsy and pacing around his condo, so I leave and head to Annie's Teahouse, my favourite spot when I come to Santa Anna.
I can see the tall wooden shelves filled with canisters of loose-leaf tea and the rustic counter with the same purple-haired, tattooed girl working at the till through the front windows.
I need an escape. I need somewhere to clear my head and be Cash-free. But what did I expect would happen once I was alone with him? That somehow, between six months ago and now, everything would be forgotten, and we'd be back to how things once were between us?
He lives in Santa Anna. I'm in Boston. He needs to deal with his past mistakes, with his "wife" and their arrangement, and focus on his professional hockey career. I need to focus on my studies and jewelry making, and I need to stop living in a fantasy world and start being honest with myself when it comes to my relationship with Cash. I love him. I do. I don't know how we would ever work.
But all the obstacles I thought would destroy us only months ago don't seem that relevant anymore. Somehow, we've found some easy peace between us since we've been pushed back together. Plus, I believe him when he tells me about Daniela and how she came into his life. I sympathize with the fact that he felt the need to protect her after he lost his brother, Cory. Cash's family is something he's loved, lost, and been trying to protect. And for him to finally tell me everything and help me understand his world it's everything I've wanted from him since the moment I met him.
The little bell rings when I push through the door.
"Quinn?" Vaughn's familiar voice startles me. I look up and see her sipping tea in the back corner.
Oh crap.
She waves over at me. The look on her face was both intrigued and probing. I'm busted. Now I'll have to pretend I'm here for a surprise visit to see my father because why else would I be in Santa Anna? Regardless, Vaughn is going to tell Lyndsey she saw me. And Lyndsey is going to be pissed I didn't tell her I was only three hours away over spring break. She's also going to read through my bullshit and know I'm here for one reason and one reason only...I take a deep, confidence-building breath: I can do this.
Vaughn puts her cup of tea down, grabs her purse, and walks toward me. "Lyndsey didn't mention you'd be in California."
"Yeah," I mutter. "Busted."
My pulse accelerates, thinking about Lyndsey finding out about my staying with Cash. She will not be pleased with my decision, but I feel a half-hearted irritation that she thinks she knows what's best for me. Ugh, I sound pathetic. I'm torn over Cash, but I know Lyndsey would tell me to run for the hills before I ever let him in my life again. And she doesn't even know the half of it.
"Aren't you on spring break?" Vaughn asks.
"Yes," I tell her and order my tea from the purple-haired girl at the cash register. "I'm leaving tomorrow. What are you doing in Santa Anna?"
"I came for the day to get some shopping done," she says, smiling.
I look up, startled, when Fisher, one of Cash's old teammates from the Bruisers, appears behind her and places his hand on her lower back, smiling at me. What the—?
"Hey Quinn," he says and kisses Vaughn's cheek. I didn't know they were together. "How's it going? It's been a while."
I open my mouth to respond to Fisher when Vaughn interrupts, "What brings you to Santa Anna anyway?"
"Just visiting."
"Who?" she asks a little too quickly for my liking.
But before I can respond, Fisher pipes up. "Hey, did you hear about Cash?"
For a beat, I'm panicked, but Vaughn doesn't look even a little surprised. Either she didn't hear Fisher or Aiden's already told her, and she knows exactly why I'm here. But if she knew, wouldn't she have told Lyndsey? And if she told Lyndsey, my phone would be ringing off the hook.
"What about him?" I ask, playing along. "Did something happen?"
"Yeah, I heard he was injured," he says, and he looks like he genuinely is concerned and not trying to break me.
When I look over at Vaughn, she's watching me like a hawk, her eyes narrowed and lips in a fine line.
"He took a big hit at a Boston game," Fisher explains, "and he has a bad concussion. I've tried reaching out to him, but nothing. Cash has always been that elusive, secretive type, but I don't know. You probably haven't talked to him since that night anyway."
The way he refers to that night makes my stomach turn. The memory of pounding into Cash's penthouse to find him drunk and high with some tramp and having Fisher and Louis drag me out with a fight replays in my mind. How could I ever forget?
"Regardless, I'm sure Cash is doing fine and will return on the ice quickly." Great. Now, I sound like I know something. Vaughn gives me a questioning glance. "At least that's what I would assume."
Vaughn frowns. "Quinn doesn't want to hear hockey talk, Fisher. And you're right. She and Cash aren't together anymore. She's dating our friend Aiden, right Quinn?"
I feel like Vaughn is toying with me, and I wouldn't say I like it. "I wouldn't put a label on it." I started slowly, keeping it about anything other than Cash. "But, hey, I didn't know you two were together?"
Fisher winks. "Yeah, but I wouldn't put a label on it."
Vaughn frowns and smacks him in the arm.
"Miss? Your tea is ready," the purple-haired girl calls from behind me.
I turn around and take my take-out cup from her. "Well, it was nice to see you. But, I better get going."
Vaughn studies me, running her finger under her lower lip. "Hey, if you'll be in Santa Anna for another night, we should meet later."
"I have plans," I lie, feeling my face heat.
"With your dad?" she asks, laughing. "I mean, who else would you have plans with?"
I tilt my gaze to Fisher, still standing obliviously beside Vaughn. "Well," I say and sip my tea, "like I said, I already have plans. And even though I would love to meet up with you two and be your third wheel, I wouldn't want to impose."
"You wouldn't be imposing," Vaughn insists.
Fisher scowls. "Geez, Vaughn. If she has plans, she has plans. Why are you being so pushy?"
"It was nice seeing you," I tell them. When she looks offended, I say, "It's not personal, Vaughn. I really can't tonight."
Her eyes are too wide, and her lips go too fine. "Right. Of course, you can't. You've made your decision, I guess."
And this is when I know Aiden told Vaughn why I'm in Santa Anna. "Vaughn, it's not like that."
"No. I think it is," she says point-blank. "Your loss." She forces a smile at me, and Fisher shifts his gaze awkwardly between us.
I let her words settle in for a minute. Vaughn is talking about Aiden—her best friend—and she is far from pleased with me. I care about Aiden, too, but I'm super confused and need to sort through my feelings.
"It was nice seeing you both," I say.
"Enjoy your night, Quinn," Vaughn replies meaningfully.
I exit Annie's Teahouse with a cup of tea and my heart in my throat. Am I making a huge mistake? Is spending one extra night with Cash in Santa Anna a terrible idea? Am I subjecting myself to jumping back into his chaotic life? I've always wanted to be with a stable, educated, and trustworthy man. But most guys who check all the boxes fail to measure up, whereas Cash always fits the bill.
_______________
Vaughn ratted me out to Lyndsey because just as I step into Cash's building, my phone beeps with five new text messages:
Quinn! WTF r u doing???
Why r u in Santa Anna???
Don't even think of lying. I know u aren't with Dad!!!
I KNOW YOU ARE WITH CASH!!!
R u out of your mind???
My heart slams in my chest. There are too many reasons I don't want to talk to Lyndsey. Every word to potentially come out of her mouth would make complete sense. And I don't want to hear it. I don't need to be lectured or reminded right now, especially not from her. I need to work through this on my own. Angered, I tap out a quick response to Lyndsey's text message.
I know what I'm doing. Yes, I'm with Cash. I need to do this. I'll talk to you when I'm back in Boston.
I walk through Cash's front door and feel like the breath is kicked out of me when I spot him. He stands in his living room in front of what looks like a giant blanket fortress with a floor of pillows. The lights are dim, and candles are lit everywhere. The smell of something warm and delicious wafts its way from the kitchen and into my nostrils, making my stomach involuntary growl. When his eyes find mine, I drink it all in for a few seconds. Especially him.
Navy suit, white shirt, red tie. His hair is swept to the side and perfectly styled, and his face is clean-shaven. And although I like him with facial hair, I like seeing his dimples again. A knowing smile spreads across his face, and he hooks a finger at me, beckoning.
When I take a step closer, he finally lets out a breath. "Hey."
Hearing his raspy voice causes my smile to grow a little as something aches beneath my ribs. "What is all this?"
My hesitation catches him off guard. "I figured since I can't take you out, I'd take you in." He recovers with a bright smile. "Would you like to come into my blanket fort?"
I nod, oddly nervous, despite the rush of heat that spreads across my skin. I can't believe he did this all for me. I glance into the fort and see his coffee table set with two plates, two forks, two knives, and two glasses, with a single candle as a centrepiece. Pillows are scattered all over the floor for seating.
"It looks very inviting," I mumble, turning to lead us inside when he presses two subtle fingers to the small of my back.
"Hold on," he says, leaning forward to whisper, "there is a strict dress code for those who enter my blanket fort."
I raise a brow, trying to suppress a laugh. "Really?"
He nods down at his suit. "Formal wear only, Mittens."
I laugh. "Sorry, but I didn't pack a ball gown."
"I've got you covered. I had my agent's executive assistant pick you up a little something and drop it off. He put it in the spare room." He winks at me. "You're welcome, of course."
"Of course," I repeat.
He leads me toward the spare bedroom, and I follow him, admittedly paying more attention to the fit of his jacket across his broad shoulders than too much of anything else.
He stops and turns to smile at me. "I'll be waiting."
I take a deep breath and wonder what Cash has planned and what this means. And more importantly, what did he have his agent's executive assistant buy for me to wear?
I must look unsure because Cash laughs softly beside me. "Relax," he says, placing a hand on the doorknob. "It's tasteful. I promise."
I step into the room and see a shimmering red floor-length gown draped over the bed. I pick it up by the hangar and stare at it in awe. It is the most beautifully sexy dress I've ever seen. It has a dangerously low V-neck, and when I admire the backside, I see crisscrossed spaghetti straps to expose my bare back.
"I'll be waiting." Cash smiles and closes the door behind him.
When I slip on the dress, I smile at myself in the mirror, and I most certainly don't care that I'm half hoping Cash will eventually ask me to take it off.
Cash puts a large platter in front of us with assorted Chinese take-out dishes. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. We sit on oversized pillows in an adult-sized blanket fort, wearing formal attire, eating pot stickers and chicken fried rice with sparkling water in wine glasses. As strange as this is, it couldn't be more us.
"Take a chicken pot sticker and tear it in two. Then put the sweet and sour sauce on the inside for optimal coverage," Cash says, tearing a pot sticker apart and demonstrating.
I watch him drizzle the sauce over his chicken, pop it in his mouth, chew, and then smile at me. I smile back at the glob of sauce on the side of his mouth.
"What?" he asks.
"Umm..." I say, pointing. "Your mouth."
"You like my mouth?" His tongue slips out, sweeping across the corner of his lips, and then he lifts his glass and takes a deep drink of sparkling water.
He makes me feel more than alive. He makes me feel unsettled and reckless. I curl my hands into fists beneath the table, running through the fantasy of asking him to rip off this dress, take me to his bedroom, and touch me. Besides the kiss we shared this morning, he barely touched me all night. I think it's intentional. He's trying to respect that I asked for space. But it's driving me crazy. Because seriously, as much as I know it's better not to complicate things, I want him.
I blink, looking down at my plate, and then do what he just demonstrated: tear apart a pot sticker, drizzle it with sweet and sour sauce, and bite. The chicken is sweet, warm, and delicious. I haven't eaten Chinese take-out in, well...six months. I close my eyes and hum. "So good. I forgot how sinfully delicious this can be."
I can feel him watching me, and when I look up, he smiles.
"What?" I ask.
"I want to be with you, Quinn."
Uneasiness nips at my stomach, and I force down the bite of food. "It's not that easy."
He leans back in his chair, watching me. He looks so serious, almost perplexed. "I know I can't change the past, but I can fix it."
"Fixing something doesn't suddenly mean everything is okay. The cracks are still there."
He blinks away. "We both know you're no stranger to loving someone with cracks."
"Which is exactly why I know once something's broken, it's hard to put it back together." When his face falls, I relent. "But I'm not saying it isn't impossible."
He looks back at me, thick, dark lashes pressing to his cheeks as he closes his eyes, thinking. He's so gorgeous. My pulse takes over my entire head, hammering inside my skull like a drill.
Opening his eyes, he says, "Tell me we're not done. Tell me once you return to Boston that this isn't it."
I look away, feeling a little deflated. I don't want to talk about the old us or the potential of a new us or us after tonight. I want to be in the moment. I search wildly for a new topic.
But he speaks before I can come up with anything. "You know why I'm so in love with you?" he asks, pouring me another glass of sparkling water. "Because all of the fame and applause in the arena couldn't fill the void you left in my heart. And I'm tired of hiding who I am and the woman I love. I want to be somebody good enough to be seen with you. I want to be able to take you out for dinner, hold your hand in public, and tell people you're mine. I want pictures of us splashed over social media, the internet, and the tabloids. I want the world to know how much I love you. I'm tired of hiding behind every lie I've ever told about my past. And it's all because of you that I want to be a good man. Someone you can be proud of."
"I am." I move closer to him, lifting my chin to bring my eyes level with his. "I am so proud of you."
I know he's a broken, wild mess, but I feel my heartstrings tugging and pulling at his mere sight, and I can't stop it. I can't keep my hands to myself, and I place them on either side of his face, brushing my thumbs along his cheeks. "I love the blanket fort. I love this red dress. And I love that you ordered Chinese take-out."
I stare at him, watching his expression morph from confused and curious to slightly elated. And maybe it's that expression, or maybe it's the quiet pulsing music. Maybe I'm seeing Cash in such a new way—with real flaws and a history of family and people he loves and tried desperately to keep close to his heart. Despite everything, I still want to be closer to him.
"We didn't get to finish what we started earlier." I feel my heart speed up at the feel of him holding me in his arms again.
I lean forward and kiss him, and his hands move to the straps of my dress. And then everything at the moment becomes about the feeling of his mouth on mine, the feeling of his hair in my hands, his tongue moving over me, his lips pressing words into my skin. I feel every breath he takes and every tiny sound he makes. I can feel his mouth get hungrier and more urgent as he moves down my body. Slowly, he presses two fingers inside me, and I toss my head back, moaning.
I only ever want to feel him.
"Are you sure you want this?" he murmurs, cupping a breast in his hand.
I nod, unable to speak actual words with his fingers inside me.
"Good," he replies, reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head. I lift my hands to make it easier for him, and he pulls my dress off, too.
"Damn, Mittens. I've missed you so much," he admits before looking up at me through his lashes as he pulls a nipple into his mouth.
"Oh," I moan and grab his head to hold him there. With each tug of his mouth, my clit throbs.
Having him touch me like this again makes that wild, reckless girl inside me want nothing more than to claw her way out. I reach for his buckle and start unfastening his jeans. I want him inside me.
"Not yet." He smiles against my lips. He pushes my dress up to my hips and disappears between my legs. He sucks and moves his fingers inside me, urging me to come. When I finally moan out in deep satisfaction, clenching all around him, he crawls over me and kisses me deeply.
"It's crazy how much I've missed you, too," I say as he kisses down my neck.
He runs his hands down my leg until he hooks his arm under my knee and hits my leg up. "Not being able to be with you like this was pure torture." He pants as his arms tremble from holding back. "Am I what you want?"
I whisper, "Cash, you know what I want."
I reach up and drag my nails down his chest, urging him to be inside me, to get what he needs, to feel everything he possibly can. I don't want to torture him anymore. My hands move of their own accord, roaming and scratching, pulling him closer and pushing him back so I can see him when he reaches between us to position himself against me. I tickle down his stomach, feeling his muscles clench underneath my fingertips.
He groans, exhaling as he lowers his body over mine and pushes into me fully. The sensation is astounding—everything all at once—the feeling of his chest on mine, of his face against my neck, of my arms around his neck and hands diving into his hair, of his hands pulling my thighs around his waist, of his hips pivoting as he moves in me.
God, I've missed him. I don't ever want this moment to stop.
I throw my head back and lift my hips. He feels amazing. I didn't think our sex could get any better. "Oh God, you feel perfect," I say with a strangled cry.
Cash groans and plunges deeper inside me. We are out of words and covered in sweat, and I'm hit with the realization that this is what it's like to make love. He watches my face until it's almost too much, too intense, and I let my eyes close as I feel him moving inside me, forcing myself to clear my head and feel every ounce of this connection between us.
Cash becomes wilder now, my thighs pressed up in his hands, and his brows pinch together in concentration. He moves in and out of me, our bodies slick with sweat and hearts pounding together. Cash calls out, then grabs my face and kisses me with a fierceness that sends me over the edge. Crying out in his mouth, I shake as we both find our release together. He holds me tightly, tasting me and sucking my tongue into his mouth. He falls over me, heavy. His mouth moves to mine, and we hold them open against each other, breathing in hard silence.
He moves his parted lips over my mouth. "Fuck, you were wild. I couldn't hold it any longer. God, Mittens, I want to do this all night long."
I bury my face in his chest and laugh. I had been a little out of control. "Who said I wasn't planning on it?"