Revolving Door Page 2

  As soon as the text has been sent, I drop the phone in the cup holder as if its burned me. I hate spelling because I am lousy at it, and my reading is just as bad. It’s not that I can’t, it’s more along the lines that I don’t comprehend what I read as fast as others do without dyslexia. I sneak a furtive glance at Quinn to see if she’d noticed my unease, but she’s focused on driving.

  “So, where are you headed?” Quinn asks, sensing my attention is directed on her once more.

  “To be honest, I don’t know,” I confess. There’s just something about Quinn that draws me to her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at me without expectation. Or it could be that she has no idea who I am, and I have a clean slate with her. She doesn’t know my struggles, my fears, my family, my past…

  I can be anyone I want, and it’s the one thing that has kept me going since I’d climbed into my car, leaving Hayden and my parents behind.

  I need to find myself and learn who I am without others constantly dragging me down and insulting my intelligence. I don’t want to be told what to do, or be talked down to. I don’t want Hayden controlling every aspect of my life because he assumes I can’t handle it.

  I want…

  I just want to fit in.

  I want to find a place where I can carve out a life for myself and be me.

  “You don’t know?” Quinn asks with puzzlement, her voice cutting into my thoughts.

  My attention turns back to her. “I plan on settling down when I find a place that makes me want to stay instead of passing through.”

  Quinn is silent for a long moment. “You’re running from someone,” she guesses.

  “I’m not running from anyone. I’m running to the life that I deserve,” I say simply.

  Quinn flashes me a smile. “Exactly. Sometimes, a girl has to take matters into her own hands and do it herself. Otherwise, it doesn’t get done right.”

  My lips tug upwards as I return her grin. “Very true.” Quinn’s phone chimes with an incoming text, and I feel myself tensing. I really don’t want to have to type out another text message. Thankfully, Quinn doesn’t ask me to check the message, and we’re both quiet, but it isn’t an uncomfortable one.

  “We’re just a few blocks away,” she announces.

  “Thank you for wanting to help me. I appreciate it,” I say sincerely.

  Quinn turns on the car’s blinker before turning down the next street. “It’s the least I can do considering I hit you. God, I can’t believe I actually hit you.”

  “It was an accident,” I remind lightly.

  “Gabe’s going to chew my ass when he finds out,” she grumbles.

  “Gabe?”

  “My brother, the paramedic. I hit a mailbox down the street last year, because I was texting,” she sheepishly admits. “I got read the riot act, and I’ve had the good sense to avoid texting while driving since it happened.”

  “He doesn’t have to know you were on your phone,” I offer.

  She glances at me and laughs. “You’re too kind, but lying is a grade A offense with my family. We tell the truth, no matter how brutal or mortifying it is. There are no secrets. Don’t worry, I can handle him,” she assures.

  My lips part to reply, but as she pulls into a driveway, I’m distracted. I’d fully expected Quinn to pull into an average, two-story house. This is bigger than I was expecting—especially for someone who looks to be my age, and I’m only twenty. Since it’s dark, I can’t see much of the outside of the large house, but it certainly looks nice. Not as nice as the extravagant mansion I used to live in, but at least this place probably feels lived in and isn’t decorated for appearances sake rather than comfort.

  Quinn parks the car in front of the garage and looks at me. “Nice, huh? We’re renting,” she explains. “My other brother, Colt, he knows the guy that bought this place when it was declared stigmatized. The guy expected to remodel and make a huge profit, but nobody wanted a place where a murder-suicide took place. As soon as Colt heard he was thinking of renting it out, he hammered out a lease with Robbie, the new owner.”

  I blink and stare. “There was a murder-suicide here?”

  “Five years ago. A man came home and found his wife in bed with his brother. He went nuts and shot them before taking his own life,” she informs.

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “I mean it sucks, but it happened and can’t be undone. As for any weird ghosts or shit, I’m not too concerned. Robbie never told Colt which room the deed was done in, so that helps.”

  I am absolutely fascinated by Quinn. She’s extremely different than the types I’m accustomed to being surrounded by. It’s refreshing being around someone who says exactly what’s on their mind.

  “All right, let’s get you inside. Gabe should be home soon,” she tells me. She quickly climbs out and hurries to my side of the car.

  I carefully ease out of the seat and wince. Everything hurts. Quinn’s lips press into a firm line as she puts an arm around me and determinedly leads me to the front door of the house. She then briefly releases me and inserts two different keys into two deadbolt locks.

  When we cross the threshold, Quinn quickly turns on the lights and closes the door behind us. I look around with interest. The living room definitely looks lived in. It’s all creams and browns, and vacant of anything related to décor. There’s a gaming console against the wall beneath a large, flat-screen TV.

  Quinn sighs, drawing my attention back to her. “Harper and I gave up on trying to add a feminine touch in this room. The guys seem to destroy anything in sight that isn’t useful to them.”

  “Harper? She’s the one I sent the text to earlier, right?” I ask curiously.

  “Yes. She lives here too. Come sit.” Quinn begins leading me over to the L-shaped, dark brown sofa, and I gingerly sit down. She frowns at me. “I can’t give you anything for the pain until Gabe okays it.”

  “I’ll survive. So, who all lives here?” I question with interest.

  Quinn smiles and reaches down, pulling off her shoes and tossing them aside. She then settles onto the other end of the sofa. “My brothers—the three I mentioned earlier. Another guy, Sebastian. And my friend, Harper.”

  My eyebrows rise. “There’s six of you living under one roof?”

  Quinn nods. “And room for a seventh. When Robbie decided to rent out this place, he turned the basement storage room into a bedroom. So now there’s five bedrooms between the first and second levels, and then two in the basement. He was hoping maybe it would become a rental for college students, so he figured the more bedrooms there were, the more likely it would be rentable. We like to joke that this place has a revolving door. Someone’s always coming and going. The seventh room is available, because Brenda moved out four months ago to live with her fiancé.”

  “And you all cohabitate without any problems?” I ask, feeling doubtful. That’s a lot of people under one roof. The house is decent in size, but they must still get in each other’s way.

  Quinn snickers. “Oh, there’s always problems. But we work them out.”

  “I bet it’s interesting.”

  “Never a dull moment,” she agrees.

  Headlights flash across the large window, and Quinn glances towards it. “Gabe’s here.”

  The house is awfully quiet. “Where’s everyone else?” I can’t resist asking.

  “I was meeting Harper at a party. Channing’s probably at the same party or a different one, and Gabe was obviously working. Colt’s likely out at a bar, and Sebastian…” She shrugs. “He’s always gone doing God only knows.”

  The front door opens, and our conversation has come to an end as I watch Quinn’s brother step inside. He looks like he’d showered recently, and his expression gives away how tired he is. Even so, he is definitely more than I was expecting. He’s tall with a slim but muscular build. And his hair is dark brown and cut short, bringing attention to his chiseled cheek bones. Quinn’s brother is hot.

  Gabe blinks w
hen he sees us. “Hey,” he greets, his eyes questioning Quinn.

  She rises to her feet, her expression sobering. “I need you to check Ashton. She did acrobatics over the hood of my car.”

  “Come again?” he asks, looking confused.

  “I hit her with my car,” she repeats in a rush. She then bites her lip and folds her arms across her chest. Some of the confidence she’d had earlier has faded.

  Gabe’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  She waves a hand at me. “See for yourself.”

  His eyes swing back to me, and now I feel awkward. “She insisted,” I explain.

  Quinn and I watch as he lifts his hand to his damp hair, undoubtedly trying to understand the situation. He then abruptly snaps out of his stupor, and his expression hardens on Quinn before he hurries over to me. “How the fuck did you hit her?” he bites out. He kneels beside me and begins scanning me from head to toe with his eyes—eyes that I note are a deep gray. “You’re not bleeding. That’s good. Did you hit your head?” He moves closer to me when I nod, and his cologne or aftershave teasing my senses. His hands are reaching into my hair, and he begins to gently run his fingers along my scalp.

  I hold still, feeling completely weirded out by this unfolding situation. When his fingers encounter the knot on the back of my head, my breath hisses between my teeth as I flinch.

  Gabe’s lips tighten, and he gently turns my head back and forth, studying my ears. He eases away. “I need my gear.” He calmly rises to his feet and gives Quinn a look. “You have some explaining to do.” With that said, he strides out of the room and disappears around a doorway that must lead further into the house.

  I look at Quinn. “Gear?”

  She nods. “He keeps a bag of medical equipment on hand in case of an emergency.”

  “We can leave out your phone,” I offer. “My lips are sealed if you want.”

  She shakes her head, and she’s about to say something when Gabe comes back, his expression severe as he looks at Quinn. “Phone? You were on your phone?”

  “I wasn’t texting,” she says lamely.

  “But you were on your phone,” he gathers.

  “Yep.”

  He walks over and looks at me inquiringly. “Why aren’t you at the hospital? Were the authorities called? Nothing came across the radio.”

  “I didn’t want to go to the hospital. Besides, it was partly my fault. I ran in front of her car. Whether she was on her phone or not, she wouldn’t have had time to stop,” I insist, defending Quinn.

  He opens the small, black duffle bag he’d come back with. “So you two know each other?”

  “No. We just met.”

  He kneels down beside the sofa and pulls out a penlight. “Track the light with your eyes,” he murmurs.

  I hold still and try not to blink as he shines it in my eyes. It’s bright, and it seems to make my head hurt worse, but I still follow it with my eyes as he moves it back and forth.

  “Why did you run in front of her car?” he asks, frowning as he studies my pupils.

  “I was at a gas station when a guy stole my bag. I was chasing him when I darted into the street without looking first,” I confess.

  “Did you lose consciousness?”

  “No.”

  He moves back and sets the penlight down. “Yet the police haven’t been involved?” His warm hand takes hold of my wrist, and he’s silent as he uses his index and middle finger to monitor my pulse.

  “No,” I say quietly.

  When he’s satisfied with my pulse, he focuses his gaze on mine, his expression completely professional. “Can you tell me your full name?”

  “Ashton Delegrave.”

  “Age?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Do you remember what day it is?”

  “Yes. It’s Friday.”

  He turns away and draws a stethoscope from the bag. “Year?”

  “Twenty-seventeen.”

  He nods, pleased with my answers. After he slips on the stethoscope, he carefully places it on my chest and listens briefly. “Any nausea?”

  “A little,” I admit.

  He sits back, setting aside the stethoscope. “How’s your vision? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “No.”

  “Your pupils are a little abnormal, so it looks like you have a mild concussion. I think with a little rest, you’ll recover just fine. Because you do have a concussion and even though it’s mild, someone should wake you every few hours and check your condition tonight.” His eyes focus on me intently as the professionalism fades. “So, no police and no hospital. Sounds to me like you’re hiding something.”

  “Gabe!” Quinn cuts in. “I practically dragged her here after threatening to follow her to the nearest hotel. I feel responsible for her until I know she’s okay, so give her a break. If it weren’t for her, I’d be up shit creek right now.”

  Gabe sighs and rubs his forehead. “No matter what your reasoning is for avoiding the authorities, I appreciate your willingness to keep them out of this fiasco.” His eyes scan my body. “Do you hurt anywhere else besides your head?”

  “Uh…my shoulder and hip.”

  His eyes slide over my jeans. “I think we should get you up to Brenda’s old room where you have some privacy,” he suggests.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Quinn chips in.

  “Can I pick you up?” Gabe asks me.

  “Um, yeah.”

  He nods. “Quinn, grab my bag.” He gently slips his arms beneath me, and I immediately wrap my own arms loosely around his neck. He lifts me, and my body consequently positions itself against his strong chest. I feel my stomach flutter a little over how close he is.

  Well, this is the last place I had expected to be tonight.

  Two

  Channing

  I scrub a hand over my unshaven jaw as I make my way downstairs to the kitchen. Last night was a damned good time. It’s always nice to let loose on the weekends after a full week of classes at the university.

  As I approach the kitchen, I can hear Quinn and Gabe arguing. I’m half-tempted to turn around and go back up to bed, but my stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly. After a night of drinking and sex, I’m more than a little hungry.

  “There’s no reason why we can’t offer her Brenda’s old room,” Quinn is saying.

  Who’s she talking about? I enter the kitchen and find Gabe and Quinn standing in the middle of the kitchen, facing off with one another while Harper sits at the table. She’s sipping coffee as she watches the unfolding argument.

  “Did you forget the part where she’s avoiding the authorities?” Gabe counters back.

  Quinn folds her arms over her chest, showing no signs of backing down. “That doesn’t mean she’s a bad person.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask with confusion.

  Gabe turns and gives me a look. “She hit a woman last night.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first,” I say, thinking of the girl that gotten in Quinn’s face at a party last year.

  “She hit her with her car.”

  “It was an accident!” Quinn says with exasperation.

  I gape at her. “You actually hit someone?”

  “She was on her damn phone,” Gabe adds.

  “To be fair, she did run out in front of Quinn’s car,” Harper supplies, speaking for the first time since I’d entered the kitchen. This earns her an annoyed look from Gabe.

  Screw breakfast. This shit is just too far beyond me this morning. They can fill me in when my head is clearer. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “Not so fast,” Gabe says to me. “This involves you, too. She wants to rent the room to Ashton, so this will affect you.”

  As much as I want to remove myself from this conversation, he has a point. I walk to the table and sink down into a chair, slouching as I fold my arms across my chest. Harper flashes me a sympathetic smile before I look at Gabe and Quinn. “Start over, because I’m confused,” I tell them. />
  Quinn opens her mouth, but Gabe cuts her off. “Quinn was on her phone when she hit a woman. The woman—Ashton—wanted to avoid calling the authorities to the scene of the accident. She also wouldn’t allow Quinn to take her to the hospital.”

  “Someone stole her bag,” Quinn quickly cuts in, shifting her weight so that she’s fully facing me. “It’s why she ran into the street in the first place. Gabe’s right, she wanted to avoid the authorities,” she confirms, “so I brought her back here. She’s up in Brenda’s room, because she’s just passing through the area. I didn’t like the idea of her being on her own with her injuries.”

  Gabe braces his hands on the island counter as he stares broodingly at me. “Quinn wants to offer her Brenda’s room since she seems to think that Ashton has nowhere else to go.”

  Quinn turns to him. “Come on, Gabe. Is it that hard to believe that she wants to start over? Her money was stolen; she needs to settle down somewhere and find a job.”

  “Money?” I echo. I rub my face, feeling a headache coming on. Mornings are typically uneventful around here unless someone stayed the night and suffers the ‘walk of shame.’

  “The bag that was stolen was filled with cash,” Gabe informs me.

  “She insists it was her own, and I believe her,” Quinn says defensively.

  “Let me get this straight. She was carrying around a large amount of cash and avoiding the authorities?” I look at Quinn. “If that isn’t suspicious, you’re delusional.”

  “She said she’s starting over, and I think this is where she should be,” she stubbornly insists. “The room is affordable, and she seems like a genuinely kind person. Not once did she ask me for help. I had to practically twist her arm to get her to come back with me. Doesn’t that say something?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” Gabe confirms in a flat voice. “It tells us that she was willing to suffer the possibility of severe injuries on her own just to stay away from the authorities. You don’t know what she’s hiding, Quinn.”