Quinn
The weekend comes crashing in with a summer storm and a sky full of heavy rain clouds and lighting sheets. I run beneath my umbrella with Bexley leashed at my side to the subway station and barely make my 5:05 train. There is a seat open for once, and I drop into it. I wrap up my umbrella, put Bexley on my lap, and close my eyes to think about everything I did today. I went thrift store shopping, shipped jewelry orders, had lunch with Nadia, and then went to puppy training school with Bexley. It's been a while since I've felt this productive.
By six, I'm home, thrilled to peel off my wet clothes and even more thrilled at having a hot shower with Cash before dinner. We haven't had much alone time lately. We haven't had much time together since Lyndsey and Louis's week-long visit and then being consumed with Cash's hockey training, my jewelry business, and taking care of Bexley. It's nice to be home after another busy day.
"Bexley!" Cash shouts from the kitchen, and she runs to him, wagging her tail. "How are my girls?" he asks as I take off my jacket and hang it up.
"Good. Tired," I say, noticing Cash's hockey duffle bag at the front door.
"How was puppy training school?" he asks.
"She's getting better. Right, Bexley?" I look up to see Cash walking toward me. I glare at his sports jacket, shorts and t-shirt, hoping he can feel my eyes burn on his attire. Is he headed out to hockey training again?
"I made a chicken stir-fry if you're hungry." He leans forward and greets me with a kiss.
"I thought you were cancelling your ice time tonight?"
"Yeah, I was going to..." His voice trails off.
I pout. "You haven't taken a day off from hockey training since Lyndsey and Louis were here. I thought we were going to watch a movie and cuddle in bed. The weather is terrible outside. It's a perfect night to stay in."
He studies me for a beat and then murmurs, "I know, Mittens, but I'm determined to get where I need to be before the season starts, and I don't feel like I'm there just yet. And my trainer couldn't switch my session to this afternoon." He takes a step forward and cups my face with his hands. "I won't be home too late, and I promise we can have our movie and cuddle session tomorrow night."
I shake my head and sigh. "Alright." I know he's working hard to stay clean and prepare for next season. All I have to do is look at his face to know he hasn't been drinking. I'm super proud of his commitment and determination. I kiss his nose and see Bexley looking up at us. "Looks like it's only me and you tonight, Bexley."
I flop down on the couch, and Cash smiles beside me.
"Did you see the article? The magazine came out today. You look stunning in the photo," he says, handing me the magazine.
The picture of the four of us is photoshopped. I'm not complaining, though. My skin never looked so good, and Cash's muscles are well-defined.
I skim through the article as Cash continues. "The piece on us comes across on paper like we are some sort of celebrity power couple." He laughs to himself. "Unlike the piece on Lyndsey and Louis's relationship. It's a little more relatable and captures their playfulness perfectly. They also did a pretty good job promoting your jewelry business, and they also put a really positive spin on my new lifestyle and hockey career."
"Yeah, the article is great. This picture of the four of us is frame-worthy." Laughing a little, I admit, "I'm glad Lyndsey talked me into it. I was skeptical, but this was good for your new public image. You're such a good boy now." I wink at him.
"Not in bed." He laughs softly, kissing my neck.
I moan at the feel of his lips against my skin.
He pulls away with a smirk. "I better get going. I don't want to be late."
Two can play this game.
"I'll see you later tonight, then." I reach inside his jacket, taking a moment to run my hand over the hard lines of his chest before pulling his phone from his inside pocket. I snap a picture of my cleavage. I can sense his amused smile without even looking up at his face. I slip his phone back into his pocket, turn, and walk away, feeling his eyes on my backside. "Have a good practice."
I hear Cash growl in frustration and close the door behind him. Two minutes later, my phone buzzes in my purse.
When I get home, I'm going to pin you to the wall and have my way with you and those fantastic tits. Think I can make you scream? Twice?
___________
After a quick shower, I slip into my comfiest pyjamas, light a bunch of candles, make a pot of tea, flop down on the sofa, and turn on the television. Bexley jumps up on the sofa beside me, tail wagging and licking my face. I pet her head to calm her down as she cozies beside me. Eventually, I find some Modern Family re-runs and drink my tea peacefully. Halfway into the episode, my phone buzzes with another text from Cash. I didn't respond to his first text on purpose. I know how much he hates/loves it when I tease him with my lady parts before he leaves the house.
You're in big trouble when I get home, Mittens ;)
It drives him crazy. He's probably desperate to finish practice. He will be all over me as soon as he walks through our door. Which, of course, I want badly.
I purposely don't respond again and take a sip of my tea with a smirk.
A hard knock at the door startles me, and Bexley goes crazy, barking. Could it be Cash? Did he ditch practice to come home and have his way with me? Obviously...who else it would be this late at night? A smile breaks on my face as I get up from the sofa and giddily half-skip, half-walk to the door.
"Hello," I say singly and pull open the front door. My smile quickly dissolves when a tall, thin shadow enters the foyer. I step back, my heart pounding. Her perky breasts, the same strawberry blonde hair . . . what the hell is she doing here?
"Daniela?" I lift my eyes to meet hers. The smile on my face disappears.
Her sopping wet hair is plastered to the side of her snide yet pretty face. She's wearing a black hooded sweater, dark-wash jeans, and Converse sneakers. Mascara streaks down her cheeks, and I'm unsure if it's from the rain or tears. She's breathing heavily as she stares me down. I can't breathe.
"Where's Cash?" She pushes past me into the foyer. She's furious and on a mission. Her barging into our home is not okay.
"He's not here." I spin around and grab her elbow, stopping her in mid-step. "Can I help you?"
"Quinn, right?" Daniela asks as if she didn't already know my name. "How does it feel knowing you're the reason my life is completely ruined?"
I try to keep my face impassive. "Daniela, I—"
"You what? You're a home-wrecking whore. And because you can't keep your legs closed, I'm going to be deported."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she says, and the hurt and betrayal flashing in her eyes cut into me like a dull blade. "D-E-P-O-R-T-E-D."
I fight a pang of uneasiness as we stare each other down. I don't like being alone with her in our empty house. I wish Cash were here. My phone is on the coffee table in the living room, and I don't want her taking another step into our home. She seems unhinged, but that isn't what's making me apprehensive. It's the intensity Daniela is radiating. It's like she will snap, and it worries me that she doesn't know how to contain herself.
"Cash's address in Bexley was my permanent address with US Immigration. Once the divorce was finalized, they got wind that I had a separate address in Las Vegas, and I hadn't submitted my change of address, which you must submit within ten days or you get deported." Her chest heaves up and down. "It's all his fault I'm in the fucking mess. Now, where is he?"
Her intensity is scary enough, but as I watch the tears tumble down her cheeks, I can't control the ball of dread that lodges in my throat. Fuck. I have a very, very bad feeling about her mental state. I do not doubt that Daniela is desperate, frightened, and vengeful. A part of me doesn't care because she's legally not tied to Cash anymore, but the other part of me feels sorry for her. The knot in my stomach tightens.
I will try to talk her down, but keeping my tone and words emotionless isn't easy. Why did Cash have to go to practice tonight?
"First of all, you and Cash had an agreement. Not a marriage," I remind her carefully. "He married you because he loved his brother, and you were the only thing close to family he had left. You used him to get yourself into the United States and have some dancing career while you drained his bank account and manipulated him into doing everything for you to the point where he neglected himself of finding real love. And now I think you should go—"
"I'm not leaving until I talk to Cash," Daniela says, furious.
My throat squeezes shut. Goddamn it. She won't go away.
"Cash loves you like a sister, Daniela." I gulp nervously. "I understand that you loved Cory, but Cash did everything he could to try and make it up to you." My pulse races as I step closer. I stand in front of her, knees locked, arms crossed tight to my chest because my whole body is shaking so hard it's the only way to stop from swaying on my feet. "Cash and I are together now. We're happy. You've never dealt with your loss. And I'm sorry that happened to you, but you're not going to burden Cash anymore because I won't let you. You signed those divorce papers months ago, and your lawyer negotiated a temporary work visa. It's your fault you didn't fill out the proper paperwork. I don't feel sorry for you. It's over, so get over it, and please leave our house."
"Is that what he tells you? I've never dealt with my loss?" Her voice drips with icy disdain. "He killed the love of my life. And while I was suffering, dying inside from what I lost, I had to be the strong one. The one taking care of Cash when he was too depressed even to live. I was the person who was there for him. The person who saw his decline was beside him at his worst lows and alcoholic benders. You think you know me, but you have no idea what he means to me. Cash is the older brother I never had. I'm an only child raised by a single mother. There's no amount of money in the world that could fill the void he caused in my heart. From the very first day I moved to Thompson at seven years old, I loved Cory. He was the first friend I made on my first day of school and the first boy I ever kissed. We started dating when we were only thirteen years old. Cory was my entire life – I even gave up the idea of turning dancing into a full-time career to stay with him in Thompson. And when he asked me to marry him, it was the happiest day of my life. Cory didn't deserve to die."
I swallow, unable to form any words. Why does she suddenly make me feel sorry for her? She's hurting, I get it, but something about her seems off and insincere like she knows exactly which buttons to push, exactly how much disgust and guilt to inject into her tone to make me feel guilty, to make me feel awkward, to make me feel awful.
"I'm so sorry for what you lost. And I know Cash cares about you, too. He cared about you enough to marry you, pay your rent, pay for dance lessons, and help connect you to build your career. I'm sorry, but it's over. We have a life here in Boston without you. And I think you should go."
"I hate that he met you. We had a deal...no relationships until our five years was up, but he couldn't separate his dick from his heart long enough to do what he owed me," she says tersely. "And now I'm the one suffering, giving up everything so he can be with you. So he can finally be happy, even though he ruined my chance at happiness."
I stiffen. "Daniela, you need to calm down."
"He can't cut me out." She moves forward.
I take an instinctive step back, but she doesn't advance on me.
Instead, she starts pacing the hardwood floor, raking her hands through her hair like he's trying to tear it out from the roots. "He needs to fix this."
Anger rises in my throat. "You need to go."
"I can't go back to Canada." She lunges forward and shoves me backward. "You need to get out of our lives," she shouts and shoves me again, anger flashing in her eyes. "I want my old life back."
Another shove, and I stumble over my feet, crashing into the entryway table. I'm still trying to figure out what the fuck is happening when she shoves me again, and something hard connects with my head. CRACK. I cry out in pain before I tumble to the floor.
"I want things to go back to how they were," she shouts, and a swift kick pounds my ribcage.
I scream out in pain again, and my bottom lip quivers wildly.
"I hate you," she spits as pain swims in my head.
I have to fight the strangled sob that's desperately trying to rip out of my throat as I'm moaning in and out of consciousness. I'm vaguely aware of the front door flying open, the heavy footsteps, Cash grabbing Daniela by the waist. Hauling her to the door. Hissing out a threat. Dialing 911. My head is pounding, and my vision is fuzzy, making it difficult to focus on what's happening.
I jerk when I feel soft, warm arms wrap around me. It's Cash hugging me tight. My head drops against his shoulder, and I blink away the tears that threaten to surface.
"Are you okay?" he asks urgently. "Quinn, answer me."
"No." My response is muffled against his sleeve.
"The police arrested Daniela outside. An ambulance is on its way. Your head is bleeding, babe." He draws me deeper into his arms and wraps me in them.
I bury my face against his chest, and I can feel him trembling.
He kisses my nose and whispers against my lips. "Quinn. Talk to me. I need to know that you're all right, Mittens."
The worry and panic in his voice rise, and tears spill over and stream down my cheeks. A sob flies out as I shudder in his embrace.
This feels surreal. My heartbeat grows erratic. Sirens ring in my ears. I feel my body lifted and removed from Cash's warm, familiar embrace. And then suddenly, there is nothing but black.