Lost the Handle (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation #8)

Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

Emery

“How in the world did you get him to wear that shirt?”

I beam widely as I look over at where Quinn is leaning against the counter, his hair in waves brushed over his forehead and his very incredible T-shirt, reading “Even Baddies get Saddies” and showing a shirtless Joe Jonas, crying on the side of the yacht. Quinn has on snug jeans and his worn black Converse, looking all kinds of adorable. He raises a shoulder, hiding a smirk. “I like it. I’m a Joe fan.”

I giggle as Grandma looks back at me. My shirt reads, “I love the Jonas Brothers,” but “Brothers” is crossed out and “Daddies” is printed below it. I didn’t think I could get Quinn to go with me to the concert here in Boston, but since we slept together, he agrees to anything I ask. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Especially when the same goes for me. He asked me to watch a documentary on different tools used for a complete hip replacement, and I agreed because I wanted to be near him.

I wonder if Grandma suspects something. It was supposed to be one time, but it’s turned into a week-long fuckathon. My pussy is delectably sore, and I love the constant reminder of him being inside me. I love how he looks at me now and how it makes me feel.

Like I’m falling and he’s the only one that can catch me.

I’ve always been attracted to him—how could I not? He’s gorgeous, as all Adler men are. There is something in their genes that makes any woman who sets her eyes on one of them throw her independence out the damn door.

Quinn tells me to drop to my knees, and I don’t even hesitate.

I’ve got the bruises to prove it.

God, I want him even now. He looks all sexy and carefree, and while I’m super excited for the concert, I’d much rather find the closest surface for him to take me on. It’s been a blast learning each other’s bodies. He’s a very giving lover, but that’s his personality. He’s a good dude.

My dude.

I exhale, not letting that thought grow. I tear my gaze from him, my heart doing that little flutter thing in my chest as I look back to Grandma. “See? It’s all him.”

“No doubt,” she says in her thick Boston accent. “You two be careful.”

“We will,” Quinn promises. We kiss her goodbye and tell her to tell Grandpa we’ll see him tomorrow. He’s out at the rink, coaching the team at the high school that Shea Adler graduated from. Once we’re in Quinn’s car, I buckle my seat belt, excitement coursing through my body, but it’s replaced by heat when I meet Quinn’s gaze.

“Picture?”

I nod. “For sure.” An inferno burns in his eyes as he grins just for me. My stomach clenches. It’s crazy how we went from friends to lovers with such ease. He holds out his phone, capturing us grinning at the camera. He leans in, kissing my cheek as I watch the picture save—my laughter and his lips pressed to my cheek captured forever. When I turn my head, he brings up his free hand and captures my jaw in his long fingers.

Then his lips are on mine.

Leaving me breathless.

I lean into the kiss, moving my lips against his with vigor. I love how he tastes, how his lips feel on mine, but most of all, it’s the tenderness for me. He kisses me like I’m breakable, even though we both know I’m not. He pulls back, panting, and then he winks like a fucking teen heartthrob. I laugh, shaking my head, but suddenly, “Lovebug” by the Jonas Brothers starts playing. My laughter grows as he starts singing, loudly and only for me. His eyes light with excitement as he sings and drums on the steering wheel. I sing with him, and when the climax of the song hits, his eyes meet mine. I feel each word like a damn promise from his lips.

Quinn reaches out and turns down the music, only our voices filling the air until they trail off once we lock gazes. “Be my lovebug?”

I roll my eyes. “So corny.”

“Seriously,” he says, and I can see the need in his eyes. “I don’t want this to end here. I want you always, lovebug.”

My stomach clenches, and I feel like I can’t catch my next breath. Unable to speak, I nod, leaning in to kiss the side of his mouth. He turns his head, and once more, our lips are attached. I move my hand up to palm his cheek, and everything inside me is firing off.

Excitement, need, but also a little fear.

Because I know what true love is. I see it everywhere I look.

My parents, his, and his grandparents.

I already like Quinn, love him like family, but I know I could love him more than anything in this world.

More than myself, which is something I don’t know if I want.

My head is pounding, but not as badly as my heart.

I took the aspirin and drank the whole bottle of water that I assume Quinn left me, but still, I’m hurting. I don’t think anything can cure the ache in my heart. I don’t know why I had a dream about that memory, or even why I’m lying here, looking through the videos and pictures of Quinn and me from that magical night. I just had the need to do so once I woke. I wish we could go back to that night. I would have allowed myself to live in the moment. To fall so deeply for him I wouldn’t have cared if I lost myself.

But instead, I threw up walls and played cat and mouse with him for over a year.

My eyes cloud before the tears start to fall.

I don’t love you.

The words play over and over in my head. Four words I never thought I’d hear him say. I just don’t understand how this has happened, and I can’t bring myself to believe it. He said the words, but his actions are saying something completely different. I was drunk, out of my mind, but I knew when he came to get me. I know he carried me to and from the car. Since I don’t smell like puke, I know he showered me and dressed me. That he left the aspirin and water for me. If he truly didn’t love me, why would he do those things?

But then, I can’t forget that we do have a bond of friendship between us. He wouldn’t let anyone he cares about lie in their puke. It’s not who he is. He’s known me since I was a toddler. He would do the same for Katarina. I’m not special.

I don’t love you.

The words haunt me as I roll over, cuddling deeper in the pillows and blankets. I decide to allow myself to wallow in my pity for another hour before I get up to face life. To face him. I heard him moving around in the bathroom over an hour ago, then heading out, probably to go to the gym downstairs. Now, I know he’s in the kitchen, but I don’t know how I am going to look at him after last night. I need to thank him, but I’m still so hurt by his words.

His truth.

I deserve this, honestly. After what I did, after I threw up my walls and ran, I shouldn’t be surprised. I made him feel like he wasn’t enough for me, so what in God’s name makes me think I am the better choice over Ava? He’s obviously devoted to her. A devotion I threw back in his face when he asked me to love him. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am just mad that he is marrying someone other than me.

But it doesn’t feel that way.

It hurts.

Not just the jealousy of someone else having him, but my heart hurts knowing his heart doesn’t sing for mine anymore. That he’ll never look at me the way he’ll look at his wife. That she’ll get to hear him say I do as he promises himself to her. That she’ll get his future, and I only have his past.

Damn it.

Another wave of tears flows down my face, and I hide them in the pillow. I don’t know from whom. Maybe myself since I hate crying. He’s the only guy I’ve ever cried over. I am well aware that I made this bed, that I molded this future, but fuck, let me have another go. I would do everything so differently. Even if being apart was too much for us, I would have done everything to stay in constant contact, instead of watching from afar. In my head, I know how I would have made it work. I would have flown to him, him to me. We’d have met halfway. FaceTime would have been our best friend. We would have spent holidays with our families, instead of me making every excuse for why I couldn’t come home.

I would have allowed myself to love him freely.

And I would have drowned in his love.

I truly fucked up, and he let me have it.

I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve lost him for good.