CASSIUS

Ninety-five percent of the time, the things I say or do come back to bite me in the ass.

So, when Quinn uses my words against me, I'm not really surprised by it. I'm astounded that she could tell there's anything wrong with me at all, though. I'm a pro at burying shit and the only other person who can pick me apart like that is Warren.

Warren's had twenty-three years of experience with learning my tells. Quinn doesn't even come close to that, yet she still figured it out. I should feel good about that.

The problem? I can't explain what's wrong. But I also hate lying. I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of dishonesty and dishing it out to other people isn't an idea I'm fond of. But I can't tell her about everything that happened at the club earlier.

Which leads us to the here and now, where we're walking around campus in suspenseful silence.

I can only imagine what she'd think if I told her about the conversation I had with my boss. I don't even know what to think about it. So how do you tell someone what's bothering you when you're still trying to piece it together yourself?

When I texted Max that I wasn't coming in earlier, he was surprisingly cool about it. Just told me to take the day to think about his proposition. Like I'm capable of processing even half of what that motherfucker laid on me. It's going to take more than just one day to provide him with an answer.

Quinn's fingers tangle with mine and it brings me back into the real world as I squeeze her hand tighter. There's always a sense of relief when she's the one initiating contact. It's one of the few reminders that this isn't a completely one-sided relationship.

I knew what I was getting into from the moment we had our first conversation. I don't blame her for being so weird about this shit, but I still feel like I'm the only one taking it seriously sometimes. Like I'm waiting for the moment where she decides I got just a little too close for comfort and calls it quits.

Which is another reason I'm not sure if I should tell her what I talked to Max about. What if it's the breaking point? And, if she isn't in this for the long haul, isn't it pointless to confide in her about my future?

On the other hand, maybe that makes her the perfect person to get advice from.

I take a seat on the picnic bench shaded by a large tree while Quinn perches up on the tabletop and sprawls across it, staring up at the leaves above us.

"Did you know trees live the longest out of all the organisms on the planet?"

"I didn't. Did you know it's pretty damn impressive that you're a walking encyclopedia?" I counter.

She turns her head to look at me, half a smirk on her face.

"Did you know you're the first person to ever think my random facts are cool?"

Once again, I didn't know that. And I don't understand it either. How have so many people passed up on the opportunity to get close to this girl?

On second thought, she might be the one pushing them away. But it's still their fault for not seeing that she's someone worth fighting for. You don't run into people like her on a regular basis, if at all.

My hand strokes through her splayed-out hair and I watch as the ends fall from my fingertips. I don't quite grasp how I can feel so attached to someone after such a short time of knowing them. It's just hard to remember anything from before.

There was a lot of tiptoeing around people, being careful. A shit ton of focus on self-control after I got out of jail, ensuring I didn't end up back in a cell. Never setting goals or trying for anything better. Simply existing.

Just a few weeks ago, I was wondering if I'd ever get over allowing myself to fall apart because of Skylar. One random night out of a thousand mundane nights, Quinn decided to take on my ex. And, in the blink of an eye, I suddenly wanted to shake things up.

Clear the air with Ryan. Have something to look forward to. Say what's on my mind. Laugh again. Feel again.

So, when her eyes study mine, I know I need to tell her what's bothering me. Because what the fuck am I working towards if not a future I'm excited about? Quinn doesn't stand a chance at being part of that unless I allow her the opportunity.

"Max wants me to be a partner at the club."

She props up on her elbows and tilts her head to the side.

"Why? What does that mean? Will you have to work more? Does that mean you have to fight again? Do you have to get more involved with the villains? You're supposed to be Batman, not the bad guy!"

I focus on her barrage of questions, trying to remember every single one. But the Batman comment makes me laugh and I lose track of which order she asked them in.

"Alright well, I won't be fighting again. I'd be in charge of setting those up, actually. Like...like my dad. So yeah, I'd have to deal with some sketchy people."

When she frowns, her gaze grows worried and unsure.

"I mean...it kinda comes with the territory. The fights bring in money, the money brings in the bookies. There's always risk involved. That's part of the reason I haven't given him an answer yet."

The other reason is what I found out about my dad, but I'm not ready to share that information yet.

"Do you think you'll say yes?" She tries to sound unbiased, but there's a layer of disappointment buried in her voice.

"I almost feel like I need to." I stare down at my lap before meeting her eyes again. "My dad was Max's partner. It was all legalized the week before he died. According to Max, he wanted me to take over for him when the time came. I feel like I'd be letting my dad down if I say no."

I leave out the part where Max informed me that dad owed a fuck-ton of money to the bookies that currently work there. But not because he had a gambling problem of his own.

From my understanding of what was relayed to me earlier, he was close with one of the regulars, was helping rehabilitate him after he got out of prison. The guy ended up drowning in debt, despite working multiple jobs. Dad took over the payment plan to get him off the hook, only screwing himself over in the process.

Only, we didn't have the money to cover it either.

So, my mind was pretty much falling apart as conspiracy theories flooded my head.

Was it really a drunk driving accident, or was it something more sinister? Max didn't provide me with details, and I was too mentally fucked up to ask.

Quinn sits all the way up and places each leg on either side of me so I'm sitting between them. Her hands cup my jaw as she tilts my face up to look at her.

"I never had the honor of meeting your dad, but I don't think he'd see it the way you do. He obviously raised you to be a headstrong tightass, so I think he'd expect you to call your own shots."

My hands fold over hers as they rest on my face, and something shifts inside my head.

I can't do security at the club for the rest of my life. I need to create something I can be proud of. It'll require another conversation with Max, but I can really make something out of that place if I put in the effort.

It could be a clean organization. Good. Smooth. Mine.

"I'm gonna do it." I force the words out and her grip on my face loosens, confirming that she's not happy about the choice I've made.

"Why, Cash?" She whispers dejectedly.

It's a snap decision, which never tends to go well, I know. But I need to do this. I can't explain why.

I grip her calves and give a determined look that I'm hoping instills some optimism in her.

"I know you aren't sure about us but I'm sure about you. I know things can change in a fucking heartbeat but, if we work out and end up staying together, growing old together-" She rolls her eyes, so I wink at her to lighten the mood, even though this shit is heavy on my heart.

"I said if, don't worry. So, if we're still together down the road, I need something I can build our future off of. It's good money, less hours, and I really think I can change it for the better. And if we don't work out, at least I'll still have something to put my time and effort into. It's either gonna be good for me, or good for us."

That's what I'm hoping, at least.

"You don't care that something bad could happen to you? Because I have to be honest Cash, after seeing you last night, I don't think I could handle it."

My heart sinks. I know I scared her and, thinking back on it, I should have texted her as soon as things settled down last night. It would have taken me five seconds to ease her mind, but it didn't even occur to me at the time.

I make a mental note to improve on that before pulling her closer until her ass is on the very edge of the table. My forehead sinks against her stomach.

"I've never cared if something happens to me, Quinn, but I can start."

That's another realization for me. Yeah, I've avoided going back to jail at all costs, but never have I given a shit if I get hurt. It's been that way since dad died.

I can't keep going about life that way when I have someone else counting on me.

Quinn's fingers repeatedly scratch over my scalp, and I swear I could fall asleep just like this.

"Remember when I told you I was running from a Bearaffe? Well, this is the tree I got stuck in while hiding from you."

"Seriously?"

My eyes start at the base of the trunk, trailing all the way up to where it branches off. That's a high fucking climb. I swear this girl is trying to get herself killed.

"How the fuck?" I mumble more to myself than her.

Her soft giggle brings my gaze back to hers.

"Do I need to put you in a straitjacket to keep you from doing this kind of shit?" I tease. Partially. The other part of me is seriously considering this as an option.

"Oh, Cash. It's cute that you think that would stop me." She pats the top of my head like she's praising a dog.

"But really, you were so worried about talking to me that you climbed a tree...why?" My brow furrows as I stare up at her.

"I don't know. Guess I was just scared that you'd be upset with me."

"I was upset with you, but that'll never mean you can't come to me. That's kinda how shit works, Quinn. We'll get pissed off or upset sometimes, but you talk it out." My hands settle on her waist.

"Maybe that's how it works with you, but that's not how it works for me."

"It is now." I deadpan.

With the little I know about her past relationships and the dynamic with her mum; I can conclude that she isn't used to people trying to work shit out with civil conversation.

She runs because she's always had to.

When she rolls her eyes, I know it's time to get this conversation out of the way.

"Can you tell me about Hunter."

I feel the muscles in her sides coil up tight and she can't hold eye contact anymore.

"There's nothing to tell."

Alright, this is just another situation where I'll have to coax the details out of her.

"Did you love him?"

Her mouth twists to the side as she thinks her response over, which already lets me know that she didn't ever get to that point with him.

"No. But I wanted to."

"You wanted to? You know you don't control who you love, right?"

"Yes, you do."

Nope. Because if you could, I'd choose something a lot less complicated for myself. Okay, that's a lie. Less complicated might sound nice to some but, to me, it sounds...boring.

But either way, you only decide how you act on your feelings, not if you feel them. But that's a pointless argument to have if I want to make any progress on this topic with Quinn.

"Okay. Then why did you want to love him?"

She shrugs and starts playing with the hair on my arms, pushing it one way before smoothing it back down.

"He was nice at first. Made me feel different...in a good way. It was the first time I ever thought that maybe I'd have someone I could count on long-term."

I bite back the pang of envy, knowing there's nothing to actually be jealous of when it comes to him. He had his shot and messed it up beyond repair.

"But then?"

Quinn huffs but, this time, I don't see any signs that suggest she's shutting down. She's just trying to find the right words to say.

"Once I got comfortable around him, it's like a switch flipped. I started seeing what he was really involved with, who he really was. Or maybe I saw who he was becoming because I don't know if he was already like that and was just good at hiding it, or if I made him that way. But it was like a slow-motion trainwreck, watching him self-destruct."

"What was he involved with?" This seems like an easier question than why the hell are you blaming yourself for his mistakes?

"Drugs. Lots of drugs. At first, I thought it was just coke. I could handle that. But then...I started noticing the marks on his arms. I don't know how I missed them before."

"Heroin?" I breathe out, surprised that she managed to maintain a relationship with someone that far down the rabbit hole.

An immense rush of guilt knowing that I may have been the one to give him his fix at one point or another plows through my insides like a truck.

She nods, cheeks staining pink with embarrassment. I lift my ass off the seat to kiss her.

"It's okay. We all overlook shit sometimes." I say, trying to reassure her. "What did he do?"

This time, she takes a few deep breaths.

"I don't think you really want to hear that, Cash." She grumbles while staring down at my lap.

I nudge her chin up to face me again.

"You're right. I don't want to. I never want to hear about someone hurting you. But I need to hear it, and you need to say it. You can't hold this kind of shit in all the time. It'll fuck with your head."

"My head is already fucked. Haven't you noticed? Heard through the grapevine?" The humorless chuckle sends a shiver up my spine.

"Nah, can't say I have."

Quinn looks up at me like she thinks I'm lying. How many people have made her feel like something is wrong with the way she is? How many times have I made her feel that way?

Sometimes she gets under my skin in ways I didn't think possible, but that doesn't make her any less perfect in my mind. I wouldn't change a damn thing about her, especially the annoying parts.

She squeals when I pull her down off the table, forcing her into my lap. I kiss her forehead as she straddles me.

"Let's break this one down, okay?" I whisper against her cheek.

My stubble brushes her skin as she nods, and I wrap my arms around her waist to keep her close as I talk into her ear. Maybe if she doesn't have to look me in the eyes, it'll be easier for her to speak about this.

"You've got this giant fucking wall built up and, for a little while, you thought Hunter would be the one to tear it down."

Another nod.

"He made you feel good, like you could finally relax. And you wanted to believe it. You didn't see the red flags because you wanted it to work out more than you realized."

She shifts so her cheek is flat against my shoulder before silently agreeing with my conclusion.

"And none of that shit is your fault, Quinn. You know that?"

"It's my fault that I didn't leave when it got bad."

My throat clogs up because I know exactly how that feels. I stayed put in a bad relationship for no reason other than not seeing past where I was. It wasn't as abusive as Quinn and Hunter, but it was toxic, nonetheless.

The time it takes to detox a poisoned soul? Depends on the severity of the infection, I guess.

I wasn't lying when I said I need to know what happened. I need to know how bad it was between them.

The only problem is that I don't know what I'll do with that information once it's in my hands.

I don't know what this guy looks like, who he hangs with, or where he frequents.

But I sure as fuck plan on finding out.