QUINN

Have you ever built a house of cards and then tried to remove one of them from the base layer, just to see if you could? See if you made it sturdy enough to withstand one minor hiccup?

Gio showed me how to do it once, on a slow night at the bar back before Cash and I were a thing. He built an entire house and actually managed to slide three cards out without the entire thing tumbling down. And then I sneezed on it, making it crumble across the bar top.

He built it again, trying to teach me how to assemble a stable foundation. Slowly, he constructed a second house of cards that could even withstand Billy mercilessly blowing on it to mess him up. Cash stood at the other end of the club, staring at us like we all lost our minds.

No matter how careful I was, how steady my fingers were, I still knocked the damn thing over on my first attempt at sleight of hand.

That's pretty much what I've done with my life over the course of three days. I spent months building my house of cards and managed to destroy the entire thing by trying to perform a crazy bar trick.

Three days.

To be fair, I didn't see it coming. I should have because, well, that's my life. That's how it goes in my world. But I thought I had steadier hands now. I really thought I could provide the stability needed to keep my house in order.

I couldn't.

And now? Now Cash is staring at me like I shoved my hand down his throat, squeezed his heart until it exploded, and ripped it right out of his chest. Let's face it, my grubby little hands are the perfect size to pull something like that off.

And pull it off, I did.

I guess I should start over. Three days, five events. That's all it took for the train to derail. I spent my entire life thinking I was stronger for burying my heart, but all it did was make me just like the people who caused my walls to go up in the first place.

***********

Event One: My monthly stipend from daddy dearest.

I got home early Friday morning, still reeling over my night with Cash. I opened the mailbox and found both checks tucked away, like always. Cash after spending time with Cash. Cha-ching!

My heart dipped a little bit at the thought of dad, like always. But I brushed off the feeling as I carried them up to the apartment, like always. I ripped them open to pull out the checks, like always. I only got one papercut this time, so I was pretty proud of myself.

But then a little slip of paper fell out of my envelope. Not like always. I stared at the scrap as it fluttered to the ground.

Of course, I was instantly on alert. I checked my surroundings, as if some kind of intruder had broken in and threw the paper at me. But nobody was there. I bent down and gripped the corner of it, because you can never be too safe when anthrax is a thing.

Actually, come to think of it, I think mama may have been behind the whole anthrax craze. Every year, she used it as an excuse to confiscate my Halloween candy. She always had to check it for the poison. I only ever got half of it back.

Anyway, on the paper, there was a message. Three measly words that had vomit rising to my throat. Not in the figurative sense. I actually had to run to the bathroom and expel all the emotions I felt.

I miss you.

After punishing the toilet for my father's note, I stared at it on the coffee table for an hour. If I didn't get a move on, I'd be late for class. But, for the life of me, I just couldn't feel my feet. They no longer existed. Just little tingling nubs.

It was a lie. It had to be. Because why would he keep sending money with no return address? Why would he stick a note in there but not leave his number? He was dangling a carrot in front of my face, just to see if I'd jump at it.

Avoid it. Don't break.

So, I texted Cash.

Quinn: I miss you.

I don't know if I missed him, honestly. I mean, I had just left his house not long ago. But something about seeing it scribbled in cursive, from the one man who should have always been there, had me wanting to say it to the one man who hasn't left my side. Yet.

Maybe it was selfish, but I knew he would turn those stupid words into something wonderful. And, of course, he did.

Bearaffe: Hope you learn the formula to create a working time machine in combina-whatever the fuck class you're in so you can speed up time.

Bearaffe: Okay, that was dumb. You're rubbing off on me. I miss you too, though.

His first text made me giggle. The second one cemented my stomach a bit, making me feel not as nauseous. Okay. So, he was missing me. While I may not have believed it from the father that ran back to France the second he saw an opportunity, I believed it from Cash.

I didn't feel like I'd disappear from him because he made me feel better, so there was no need to tell him about what happened.

Event Two: Fight Night.

Ollie Reed was fighting again on Saturday. Cool. Fine. He's creepy, but it was no skin off my back. Until he made things personal.

Cash was in the process of breaking up a brutal fight outside of the ring that had me a little more anxious than usual. I know the staff keep guns on them at all times during fight nights, but I had never seen Cash reach for his before. Until that particular night.

Six guys, all in a tizzy about the first fight being fixed, ultimately leading to a big loss of money on their parts. Six guys, one Cash. One really scary looking guy storming out of the conference room, joining in on the argument. He was one of the money handlers. The kind of guy you stay away from during these events.

Cash had been mediating the entire thing, standing right in the middle of the group of men. And then scary dude walked up and, when I saw my fearless boyfriend go rigid, it had the same effect on me. Every bone in my body stiffened.

The crowd started moving, making it almost impossible for me to see what was going on. But once a path was made that I could see through again, Cash's hand was on the gun in his waistband, his shirt rising up a bit, as he held two guys back with his forearm while glaring at the scary man.

His brows were furrowed, his mouth turned down as he spoke angrily to the bookie. The bookie approached Cash with eerily calm steps. View blocked.

Cash had his forehead pressed against scary bookie's forehead, using his size to push the guy back while still controlling the others. View blocked.

Gun was in Cash's hand, held down by his side. Gio got on his phone and a few moments later, Silas and Max were up there, finally coming to help him.

I was so entranced by the scene, waiting for the moment my world was ripped away from me, that I didn't notice Ollie standing by my side, also observing.

My heart was pounding so hard that I thought I might have actually been experiencing a medical emergency. If my bladder was full, it would have been emptied on the floor.

"Dangerous gig, sometimes."

I jumped at the sound of Ollie's voice; my eyes still filled with terror as I looked over at him. He was friggin smiling over the whole scuffle. He even seemed disappointed when Max, Silas, and Cash all managed to get the situation under control.

"He can handle it." I said in a zombie-like tone, still waiting for the adrenaline to dissipate.

Realization dawned once again. I could lose him to this damn club. I've been depending on him, and he could be gone in an instant. Just like Dylan.

"I didn't realize we had a mutual friend." Ollie continued talking like the entire club didn't almost get shot up.

"Hard to imagine I have anything in common with you." I mumbled.

"Aw, don't be like that, Quinn. We probably have a lot more in common than you think." He mused.

I wasn't in the mood to play games.

"Um, incorrect. I know your tiny brain might get them confused, but a micro-penis and a vagina are not the same thing."

His gaze hardened and his head cocked to the side at my remark.

"I was gonna try to be more tactful, ya know, ease you into this. But, since you want to play dirty, I'll just get straight to the point. Hunter wanted me to say hi for him, and that he looks forward to catching up with you."

My blood ran cold and when Ollie slapped his hand against the bar before walking away, I actually did pee a little. Not a whole lot, just a leak. I'm potty-trained, I swear. I just...I don't know. It was a moment of weakness.

And I'll be damned if tears didn't spring to my eyes almost immediately. But I fought those bitches off with some furious blinking skills and my backup trick of tilting my head to the ceiling. When the person on my other side looked at me with concern, I pretended I was using eyedrops.

They stared at the invisible eye-drop bottle in my hand while I performed my theatrics before scooting down another seat to escape me. I didn't mind this time. I needed space because everything around me was getting fuzzy and I swear I could have touched both walls if I just put my hands out to the side.

When I looked back up, Cash was scanning the crowd for me, an almost frantic look on his face.

Which is how I ended up out back with Dumpster Doug. We caught up and had a nice talk about life. He's been doing well for himself. Got some new stickers on his sides, a little bit of graffiti inked on what I imagine would be his bicep, and he has been eating well. A life to envy.

I didn't need to tell Cash I was disappearing. Because I wasn't. If Cash unknowingly protected me while I was with Hunter, I had nothing to worry about now, either. The pounding heart, throbbing head, and residual panic in my breathing pattern was only temporary.

I was sure of it.

Because I wouldn't break this time.

I was damn sure of it.