"THE ONLY PEOPLE you don't get along with are reporters," Quinn said to herself more than to me as she put the pieces together. "You hate...reporters."

I brushed a stray hair from Quinn's face, mostly because I couldn't get rid of the need to touch her. "I don't hate all reporters."

Not the pretty ones sitting in my bed.

She blinked at me as the gears whirred in her head. "You don't hate...me."

"No, Castle." I held her gaze, needing to make sure she knew this. "I don't hate you."

I couldn't hate Quinn Castle if I tried. I had, in fact. Tried. Just on principle with her being a reporter–a Warrior's reporter nonetheless. But I only managed to hold a grudge against her for maybe one minute of our first interview. And then I realized something about her set her apart from the rest. Something genuine. Something fucking beautiful. And I just couldn't hate her.

Quinn didn't seem all that reassured by my words. Instead, she got to the point.

"What did they do?" she breathed. Her voice was wispy and threadbare, but her body language had shifted. She sat on the bed unmoving, stiff as a board. Her eyes were calculating, and I knew she was trying to figure out precisely what happened. "What did they report? Who did it?"

"Quinn..." I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. You and I both know you can't write about it even if I told you."

"It matters to me." Quinn stared at me, silently begging me to give up the information she wanted to know. But when I didn't open my mouth, a humorless laugh slipped out of hers. "I always thought..."

She trailed off, and I frowned.

"What did you always think?"

Quinn tipped her head back, looking at the ceiling. She wore a rueful grin, and there was something about it that pained me.

"God, this is embarrassing," she muttered.

"Castle." I leaned toward her, grabbing her chin and tipping it back down to see her expression. I didn't want her hiding from me. "What are you talking about?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing."

I cupped her cheek. "It's clearly not nothing."

Her eyes did a quick little roll before she sighed.

"Remember that day when Finny let it slip that I was the reporter you liked? When we were on the conference call?"

I nodded, letting my hand fall from her face. How could I forget when he fucking outed me like that?

"I was skeptical, but in the back of my head, I was holding onto the hope that you actually, maybe, liked me. I hoped you tolerated interviews with me because I was good at my job. Or maybe I made you feel comfortable. Or...I don't know. Something."

I frowned because all of those things were true. I did like her. I did think she was good at her job. She did make me feel comfortable.

But she cut me off when I opened my mouth to say that.

"But the only thing special about me is that I'm just not them. That's it, right? Something happened with our media team before I came on board, and you refuse to talk to them because of it. But since I wasn't involved, you tolerated me." She shook her head. "Wow, it suddenly all makes sense."

No. No, it couldn't make sense because the picture she was painting was wrong. Well, partly wrong. Because yes, I did give her a chance because she wasn't them. But that had nothing to do with why I liked her. Why I trusted her. Why I let her into my house. Or my goddamn bed.

"I tolerated interviews," I said honestly. "But I've never, ever tolerated you."

She rolled her eyes again, and I felt panic rise in my throat at what she was taking away from this conversation.

"Quinn," I said more forcefully. "Tolerate is not a word I would ever use to describe how I feel about you."

She waved me off. "It's okay. It's not a big deal. I just thought.... it's nothing."

I gritted my teeth. "I like you so fucking much. You've gotta know that by now."

"Now that I've been here, I know you've maybe softened to me..." she half-agreed, trailing off.

"Softened and hardened," I muttered, which got a slight grin out of her.

"I just meant...before. But it doesn't matter, August."

It did matter. It clearly mattered to her, and whatever mattered to Quinn, mattered to me. But she quickly breezed past it, closing down the chance for me to convince her.

"I need to know what they did," she insisted.

She wasn't getting away that easily.

"And I need you to understand that I wouldn't have talked to you if I hadn't liked you. There was no reason I had to talk to you. I wanted to talk to you, Castle."

"Don't worry about it, August. I'm not mad. I just...I shouldn't have said anything."

But despite Quinn's reassuring words and her forced, weak smile, she repositioned on the bed in a way that made her out of reach. My stomach plummeted at how suddenly distant she felt, and I pressed my lips together in distraught silence as I attempted to figure out what I could say to convince her I was telling the truth.

No, she wasn't mad. But she was hurt. And hurting Quinn was the last thing I ever wanted to happen.

Her eyes wandered over my face, but she wasn't really looking at me. She was looking through me as the gears turned in her mind. A few moments passed before she nodded like something had clicked.

"They wrote something about your family."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Because Quinn was sharp as a fucking tack. And she was good at her job.

I didn't say anything. Didn't confirm or deny it. Didn't say a goddamn word.

But mostly because I didn't have to.

"I can't think of anything else that you'd actually care enough about to cut ties," Quinn continued, thinking aloud now. "Maybe it wasn't your family, but it was someone. Someone important to you. You're too utterly selfless for it to be anything else."

I stared back at her, not denying it. Not confirming it, either. It wasn't that I didn't trust her with the information; I just didn't think it did any good to talk about something painful, and that wouldn't get either of us anywhere.

Quinn didn't push. She might be a good reporter, but she was also a respectful one.

Which was one of the reasons I fucking liked her, of course. If only she'd believe me about that.

Her expression softened. "I'm sorry. Whatever it is that happened... I'm sorry, August."

I shook my head. "You don't owe me any apologies, Quinn. I'm sorry you'll never get the content you want for your article."

Her lips twisted in a wry smile. "You mean you don't think they'll let me publish an article that blames the Warriors' own media team for you leaving the team?"

"No," I said bluntly. "No, I don't think they will."

Quinn cocked her head to the side. "It's amazing to me that they don't realize the truth already."

"They're too blinded by the gains of publicity to realize what it does to the people who are used like pawns in their little games," I said before biting my tongue when I saw Quinn's expression falter. So I quickly added, "I'm not talking about all reporters, Castle. Just...some. Just the ones I had to put up with before I met you."

Quinn pursed her lips, her eyes skating away. But she nodded like she understood, and if I had to guess, I'd say she was having some kind of war inside her head.

I hated that, honestly. That was part of the reason I'd been avoiding this topic. Because I didn't know how to broach it without hurting a part of her. The part that loved her job and her connection to it.

And I knew she loved her job. She didn't have to tell me that for me to know it was true. I'd been able to see it in her eyes, feel it in her energy, from the first time we met. Plus, she wouldn't have come all the way to a goddamn island for god knows how long if she didn't have some type of commitment to it.

Quinn sucked in–a slow, deep breath that she released through her lips in a steady stream. When she finally looked at me, I felt air fill my lungs again, too.

"I promise I won't write anything that you don't completely approve of." Her gaze found mine, steady and true. "Okay, August?"

"I know you won't," I said easily. I'd never been concerned about that. If I had, my lips would have been sealed this entire time.

"But–" She pinched the bridge of her nose momentarily. "Fuck, I'm going to have to figure out what to do."

"We can figure it out together," I assured her, opening my arms up because I wanted her back fucking in them. I hated that she was hiding on the other side of the bed, even though I understood why.

With another sigh and the tiniest smile, Quinn crawled closer to me, making my chest feel lighter by the moment.

"I don't even know why you're letting me write this article, to be honest," she said as she gingerly arranged herself beneath my arm, clearly being careful not to jostle me. But fuck my leg, fuck my knee. I'd really rather she just climbed on top of me again. "I'm sure that can't be easy if you've been betrayed before."

"What can I say?" I shrugged, looking down at her. "If I refused to do the article, you would have left." She blinked, her bright gaze meeting mine. "And fuck if I wanted that to happen."

I watched as her breath visibly caught in her throat. "You can't be serious, August."

I shrugged again, playing it off as though I was teasing even though I absolutely wasn't.

So maybe I liked Quinn Castle a little too much. I'd need to figure out what to do about that eventually, but for now? For now, I was just going to enjoy the hell out of having her in my arms.

"So..." I started, deciding to change the topic while we seemed to be on good terms again. "Do you want to stay here today or come with me to Sunny's?"

Quinn sat straight up, her brows furrowing as she glared at me. "What do you mean...come with you to Sunny's?"

"I mean... it's Wednesday. I always go to Sunny's on Wednesdays. I thought we went over this last week."

She rolled her eyes. "You can't help out at Sunny's if you can't walk."

"We'll see about that."

"August...."

I chuckled. "Are you coming or not?"

"Definitely coming," she said.

"Yes, you will be," I muttered beneath my breath.

And then laughed when Quinn swatted me on the arm.

☀️

a/n:

just a couple of confessions. 🤭 more of those to come. Happy new year everyone!

xoxo amelie