Quinn
My heart is beating so hard I can hear it. I hail a cab, and thirty minutes later, I'm standing in front of my father's door, pounding my fist against it. He pulls it open with a frown. He doesn't bother to ask what I'm doing here. He already knows. He glares at me with disapproval through his reading glasses. I push past him into the foyer and the large main living room. He's mad at me anyway.
He follows me to the bay window overlooking a large wraparound deck and the ocean.
"How could you?" I spin around, cutting right to the chase. "Did you and Aiden think I wouldn't find out? I can't believe you went behind my back and confronted Cash. Admit, you are the one who bought me this plane ticket." I wave the ticket in front of his face. When he remains silent, I shout, "Admit it."
He studies me with a look of frustration. "I'm your father. My job is to protect you. I simply led the horse to the water. I didn't make him drink it."
The bitterness from knowing he confronted Cash, purchased a plane ticket, and convinced him to push me away makes my blood simmer. I'm tired of his double standard regarding me and Lyndsey. I'm tired of constantly having to prove myself through self-discipline and academics to have him accept me. I'm sick of being pushed. And I'm sick of him thinking he knows what is best for me. He's never even given Cash a chance. Yet he expects me to do as he says. I've idolized him from the time I was a little girl. Now, a part of me hates him.
"I can't believe you." Those four words go much deeper than I know he takes them.
Everything has changed, except him. He will always want to control things, including me.
"I hope you're here to thank me for saving you from tossing away everything you've worked for. Do you think Cash Brooks cares about you? That's bullshit, Quinn. I told you to stay away from him for a damn good reason. He's a drunk like your mother. He'll never change. If anyone should know that, it's you. Did you know the night his brother died in a car crash, Cash was all hammered up behind the wheel, for Christ's sake? Did he tell you that? Did he tell you he's been to rehab and through programming? Did he? And let me guess, you're okay with his choice to marry his brother's ex-fiancée. You're okay with him pouring his hard-earned money into her bank account? His life is a mess. Do you think that is the kind of man I want my daughter to be with? No red-blooded man would be okay with his daughter being with a guy like Cash Brooks."
He doesn't understand that there is so much more to Cash than his past. My father is a man of surface and appearance. He doesn't like to give people second chances. He only cares about his image and growing power in the professional hockey world. I grit my teeth and hold my curses and insults in. They won't help matters now. I am so done with him.
"I love him," I say, keeping my voice even. "And I know all about his past, and I know about Daniela too. I'm sorry, Dad, but you had no right to interfere. You don't know him the way I do. All you know is the hot-headed hockey player with a callous exterior and messy past. But what you don't know is that he's gentle and kind and loving, and his future is bright. And whether you want to accept it or not, I love him. And he loves me."
"He loves you? Is that what he tells you?" The amusement in his voice is lost on me. There is nothing humorous about the fact that we love each other. My father studies me and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "How many times do I have to tell you? Love doesn't get you anywhere. It isn't forever. It leaves you. When reality sets in and times get hard. He's sneaking drinks behind your back and snorting cocaine in a bathroom stall because alcohol isn't enough of a high anymore. Believe me when I tell you that when the love disappears, resentment sets in, and you are suddenly left with nothing. I lived it, Quinn. And you saw firsthand what it was like for me to love someone like Cash. It's a disease. We know they want to change; they promise us they will, but they can't. They are sick. You need to be with someone who wants the same things as you. Someone like Aiden. He can push you to achieve success and live a stable life. The life of a hockey wife is not stable or ideal. Cash is not stable. And you are out of your mind if you think I will stand by and let you repeat the past."
"Cash isn't Mom." I can't look at him. The rage burning a hole in my gut undoubtedly flashes in my eyes.
"You need to get your head out of the clouds," he barks. "Now get out of my house and get back to Boston."
My father's footsteps move away from me, and the patio doors close behind him. I don't think I will ever be able to forgive him for this. Or Aiden.
I need to make things right with Cash.
_________
"Cash, open up." I press my ear against his front door, listening. I jiggle the handle with one hand and rap my fist against the door with the other. It's so quiet on the other side I can hear my pulse whooshing in my ears. When I finally hear footsteps, I call out his name again.
The door flies open.
"Quinn?" His eyes search mine. "You're supposed to be on a plane."
He stands in the doorway, leaning against the wall, sipping whiskey on the rocks. He's wearing the ring I made and threw at him. It's on his wedding ring finger. He's staring directly at me, wearing the same intense expression he wore the first night we met as he watched me from the ice.
"I know." Tears well in my eyes. "You can't push me away. I won't let you. And my father can't make you."
"He's right, Mittens." Deep lines circle his unsmiling eyes. His lips are tight and pale. He slams the rest of his drink. "Whether you want to accept it or not. You deserve better. And right now, you need to go."
"No," I say. "I'm not going anywhere."
He looks up at me, eyes hard. "This isn't easy for me, Mittens. Stop making this so damn hard. Just go already."
I reach for him but reconsider. He looks pissed, and my frustration with myself and him and all of it explodes. I still remember the stab I felt in my chest when he told me to leave the first time.
"I love you. And I won't leave you."
We drown in a heavy silence until he finally looks away.
"I don't understand how you can be so damn stubborn." His calm exterior cracks slightly. "You were right to walk away from me the first time. You need to go —"
"You've made your position very clear." His pushing me away like this sets me off. But nothing feels more immediate than my feelings for him, particularly knowing he's pushing me away to protect me. "The last thing you need is for me to walk away right now. You're balls deep into a bottle of whiskey. You're still healing from your concussion. And as much as you keep telling me you don't want me here, I know you do because I know you better than anyone. There is nothing more that I want than to be here with you. Have I ever lied to you or kept anything from you? I want to learn to trust you again. I want to be with you. You act like I've never been hurt, and that trust comes easily to me. It doesn't."
"I know."
"And I know my father came here and forced your hand to give me this plane ticket and push me away. I'm not letting you do that because I know that's not what you want. You want me, just like I want you." I pull the plane ticket from my back pocket and tear it up before him. "It's me and you, Cash. And I'm doing what I should have done long ago." I snake the empty glass from his hand.
I push past him. I walk through the living room and into his kitchen without looking back. I put his glass into the sink, feeling his eyes on my backside. I grab the open bottle of whiskey on the countertop and pour it down the drain. Slowly, I turn around to face him.
"Are you done?" he asks, eyes searching mine.
"I know how hard it was for you to talk to me about your brother and mother. And I know you are ashamed about not telling me the truth about Daniela. I know you've been alone, struggling with alcohol, and as you might have heard, I have a little history with addiction."
"What's your point, Quinn?"
"I'm not leaving. And if you love me, you will check yourself into a treatment program. I am here for you. You don't have to do that part by yourself anymore."
"I don't have a problem. And I don't need help."
"You are going to ruin your second chance in the pros. You cannot keep doing this over and over again. You have got to get some help."
"I don't have to do a damn thing. There's nothing wrong with me. You're the one who needs to get on a plane right now."
"I watched you drink a glass of whiskey before noon, and I dumped a half-empty bottle. How can you deny you have a problem right to my face? One minute I feel like you are finally ready to choose us, and then my father says one thing to you and hands you a plane ticket, and you say shit like that."
"Quinn, I choose you. I always choose you every time, and I don't know when you're going to start believing it and stop making me try to prove it all the time. Did you think I didn't want to tell your father to fuck himself when he handed me that plane ticket? Do you think I want him to be right about how much better off you'd be without me? Of course, I don't, Quinn. Because as much as I want you, it isn't fair to you. He's right. I'm all wrong for you."
"And what was I supposed to think, Cash? You finally let me into your past, told me about Daniela, and we didn't just have sex these past few days...we made love over and over and over again. I've missed you. I've been miserable without you in my life. I've tried to move on but can't because being with you again has been amazing. It didn't seem reasonable that you wanted me to leave."
"It was amazing. Falling absolutely in love with you has been fucking amazing. Isn't it supposed to be that way? Just because I love you more than anything doesn't mean I'm good enough for you. Fuck, Quinn. I've been wrecked for the past six months without you and positively ruined. And forcing you out my door again...it's been fucking torture. But it's the right thing to do."
I press a hand to my stomach, feeling like I need to hold myself together physically.
"I am so in love with you." He sighs, stares down at his bare feet, and says nothing else. "And I don't want to be this couple that pushes each other away when things get tough all the time."
In my chest, my heart twists tightly. "I don't either."
"I want us to be the couple we've always been."
"You mean me being kept in the dark and you pretending like nothing is wrong?"
"Quinn—"
"Cash. I can't keep on being in the dark. I'm sorry, but I need you to prove that you choose me—us. My mother was always quick to say I was also number one in her life. So unless you show me that you choose me. Your words mean nothing to me."
"I'll prove it," he says, heaving a sigh.
"Good. Because I choose you."
He nods once but doesn't look back up or even say a word. I step closer, stretch to kiss his cheek, and only reach his jaw because he won't bend to meet me.
"Cash, I'm not going anywhere. I know you think my father is right, but he's not. I'm here...I'm staying..." I stop, hating how still he remains. "Look at me."
Cash's big blue eyes meet mine. I didn't realize how close I'd been standing against the countertop until I was pressed against it; Cash's mouth was warm and sliding over mine, whispering my name repeatedly. I am so wrapped up in the intensity of my relief that I close my eyes, open my mouth, and let his tongue slide across mine. He drags his teeth down my jaw and sucks at my neck.
"Cash," I whisper, tugging his hair to pull his head back to mine.
I can't stop smiling. I feel like my face is going to crack in half. He looks at my lips, his eyes hooded as if he was drunk from me and not the whiskey.
"Does this mean you're letting me stay?" I ask.
"Did I have a choice?" He gives a rueful shake of his head, leans forward, and kisses me again.
"We're going to figure us out." I pull away, searching his eyes as they grow more sober. "I promise."