Every Chapter

Chapter Eighteen

When Ian woke up he stretched out his arms, feeling better rested than he had in months. Then it struck him, his alarm hadn't gone off and he would be late for work. Realizing this led to him quickly remembering why he hadn't set an alarm. Quinn had been in his home last night, lying in his bed, curled up inside of his arms.

Had was the key word as she was no longer lying next to him. He flung the sheets from his body and grabbed his pistol. He didn't allow himself a second to fully wake before he rushed from the room to find Quinn. If she had run off, she would have been in danger without him near and he couldn't fathom the thought of her hurt. No longer just because of his job, but because he had grown to enjoy her company. To enjoy their banter and the possibility of a friendship. Though he would never admit it to her, he was concerned about her.

He came to a halt, finding her standing inside of his kitchen moving around effectively as if she'd been there a dozen times. Her long, bare legs guiding her around, pulling plates from cabinets.
Ian leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, pointing the gun away from them and he watched her with a smile.

"Hey." He said, startling her. The empty plate in her hand fell to the ground, crashing to the floor and breaking.

"Shit." She cussed stooping to the ground to pick up the pieces.

"Leave it Quinn."

Ian walked forward placing his pistol on the countertop and he squatted down in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's fine, just let me handle it." Quinn didn't move, instead she began to fill her hands with pieces of glass frantically.

"QUINN." He grabbed her arm.

She finally looked from the ground at him.

"Quinn, let me do this." He reached inside of the cabinet beside them, pulling out a small bag and holding it open, she dropped the glass into the bag, and she sat back on her but, knees to her chest as she watched him clean up the rest of the glass.

He tied the back and placed it inside the trash. He was grateful he'd cheapen out on the plates he purchased when he moved in. Had he gone for the crystal plates this mess would have been much worse and certainly would not have broken off in big chunks.

Quinn did not move when he stood, instead she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her head onto her knees.

"What's wrong?"

He squatted back down in front of her.

"I just wanted to do something nice for you and I fucked that up."

Ian laughed and she looked at him with fury in her eyes.

"Quinn." He put a hand on her knee, and she pushed away, standing to her feet.

"No, Ian. You might think this is funny but I ..." She sighed and turned back to the cabinet and pulled out another plate.

"Quinn, I wasn't laughing because you broke a plate. I was laughing because you thought it bothered me."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and began filling the plates with food.

"You cooked?" He didn't really need to ask; it had been obvious by the array of breakfast foods she was filling the plates with.

"Are you surprised?" She walked past him carrying the plates to the small dining table and setting them down, before sitting down herself.

"Truthfully?" He asked sitting across from her.