bar. “I’m gonna go,” he said, sliding out of the stool and hurrying out the door.
For a moment Quinn wondered if he was going to catch up to Nate, offer him comfort. But then he shook his head, dismissing the thought. The guy had looked shocked, but thoroughly entertained before he’d left. Not a reaction he’d expect from someone who cared about Nate at all.
“That went well,” Brandon said when the door closed behind blondie.
Quinn groaned and fell back on the couch, his head rolling towards the ceiling. It had gone exactly as badly as he’d imagined.
Nate didn’t come back all day. Brandon tried to call him a few times but he always got voicemail. Quinn was restless. He refused Brandon’s invitation for food or TV or even a walk outside to clear his head. In the end, exhaustion took over and he fell asleep on the couch, his last thought of Nate and his angry, green eyes.
Chapter seven
QUINN WOKE UP when a door slammed in the apartment. He jumped from the couch, his neck cracking painfully from the uncomfortable position he’d slept in.
“He’s back,” Brandon said from the armchair next to him. He clicked the remote a few times, not really paying any attention to what was on the TV screen. “You hungry?”
Quinn's stomach growled in response. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and that was a long time ago.
“Alright, then. Let’s go see what we have in the fridge,” Brandon said, clicking off the TV and heading to the kitchen.
Quinn trailed behind, casting a nervous glance at Nate’s bedroom door.
“Should I go talk to him?”
“Nah. You’ll only make it worse,” Brandon said, taking food out of the fridge and closing the door with his hip. “You know he needs to process everything in his head before he’s ready to talk. He may kick and scream but in the end he’ll come around.”
“Hope you’re right.” Quinn sat on one of the bar stools and watched as Brandon set to making them sandwiches.
“We sprang this on him and blindsided him, Quinn. He’s probably still in shock from seeing you for the first time in two years. Let him sleep on it. You’ll have three days to talk when we hit the road.” Brandon opened a jar of mayonnaise and dipped a spreading knife in it. “This OK?” He asked, pointing at the mayo. Quinn nodded. “Sorry we don’t have anything more substantial, but we cleaned the fridge out yesterday. Didn’t want to leave any food in here for three weeks.”
They ate mostly in silence. Quinn didn’t feel like talking at all. His heart felt like it was peeled raw in his chest.
“Aren’t you going to take him something to eat?” Quinn asked when they finished their sandwiches, Brandon clearing the plates away.
“If he wants to eat he’ll have to come out. I’m not his maid.”
Quinn felt instantly guilty for making Nate feel like a prisoner in his own home. Sadness overwhelmed him and to his horror his eyes filled with tears. He craved to go into that room, gather Nate in his arms, and magically erase the past two years. Hating the thought of Nate alone and miserable in his room, he offered to go find a hotel for the night and meet them in the morning. Brandon was having none of it.
“Don’t give in an inch, Quinn. Or he’ll chew you raw and spit you out before you know it.” Brandon put a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving him a sad smile. “I’ll go get you a pillow and a blanket for the couch. Go take a shower if you want – there are spare tooth brushes in the cabinet over the sink, and clean towels underneath.”
Quinn thanked him and headed for the bathroom. After a few minutes under the hot water his muscles started to relax. His whole body was coiled like a tight spring and he decided to treat himself to a full body massage once they got to the hotel in Vegas.
Exhaustion hit him anew when he walked out of the bathroom. Despite the afternoon nap he’d taken, Quinn was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow
Learning to Kill: Stories