Page 41 of Psychopath

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Quinn paced the downstairs of the house as he waited, pausing every so often by the kitchen window. It overlooked the parking space, and he waited for Damon’s BMW to fill it.

Damon had a habit of being late, and he wasn’t planning on fixing the irritating habit for their last encounter. The bags with his belongings were stacked in the kitchen, and the dividing of their possessions had been both sad and therapeutic.

The gravel on the driveway crunched, and Quinn eased out a slow breath. He’d not seen Damon for almost two months and had ignored his pleading texts and weekly calls.

It was over.

Damon waited on the doorstep with a bunch of lilies in his hand. They were Quinn’s favourite flowers, and the chocolates pinned beneath his arm were Quinn’s favourite too. Damon’s eyes drooped with sadness, his blond hair was dishevelled, and he directed his voice at Quinn’s feet.

“These are for you.”

He shoved the flowers and chocolate towards Quinn, and he had no option but to take them. “Thanks,” he uttered, taking a step back. He looked at what Damon was wearing and lost his train of thought. It was the red shirt of their Portugal holiday. The one he was wearing in the photograph by the bed. Quinn jumped at the gentle kiss to his cheek and took a few hurried steps back.

“Can I… Can I come in?” Damon asked.

“Yeah.” Quinn scratched the back of his head.

The mark on his cheek felt cold.

Damon wiped his feet on the mat, then slipped his trainers off. He looked around the hallway, then poked his head in the living room, then the bathroom beneath the stairs. It looked like he was checking the place out.

“I’m glad you wanted to talk,” Damon said finally. “It’s about time we sorted this out.”

Quinn shook his head. “I didn’t say I wanted to talk. I said I wanted to give you your stuff back. It’s in the kitchen. Ready.”

Damon frowned, then strolled ahead. He brushed by Quinn to get in the kitchen and came to a stop in front of the piles of bags. “You’re kidding me…”

“I said it was over, and I meant it.”

“No.”

Quinn recoiled. “What do you mean, no?”

Damon brushed by him again and ended up in the living room. He collapsed down on the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“We’re not going to end things because of one silly mistake.”

Quinn stood in the doorway. “Except, it wasn’t just once, was it…”

Damon cocked his jaw. “I’m counting the whole thing as one mistake.”

“How convenient.”

“It was harmless flirting, that…that turned to more.”

Quinn took a deep breath. “This harmless flirting started around the time my dad was taken to hospital.”

Damon twisted his body to face Quinn. “I’m ashamed of my behaviour. I shouldn’t have…messaged him, but he was the pursuer.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Damon’s eyes widened.

“I asked Sam to send me the messages, and he did…so I know that’s not true.”

Damon looked away.

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