Page 108 of The King's Maiden

“No,” I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant. If it’s important to you that it’s special for me, yes, that matters. But shouldn’t I be the one to decide if it is? Ifthisis enough?”

I climbed off the bed, standing in front of him and pulling him to face me.

“We’re getting off track, Quinn.”

His eyes were pleading, desperate for me to let this go.

But I couldn’t relent.

My temper flared as his rejection and my past burned me. “No, I’m just poking holes in your argument!”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re—This is hormones. Endorphins. It’s just?—”

“It’s just that I finally stopped worrying about when or how it would happen. I finally thought about what I wanted, and I just told you what I want isyou.”

He stopped pacing and stared at me with torment in his eyes.

My eyes blurred and my heart raced. “But you’re trying to tell me that’s a mistake.”

The anguish on his face—I couldn’t understand it.

I didn’t want to understand.

My body shook as the truth built up inside me.

I dragged my hand through my hair, tugging on my scar so hard, sharp pain shot to the base of my neck.

“Except, the last time I put pressure on myself over when and how I lost mystupid, fuckingvirginity,” I spat out the words, getting in his face as tears streamed down mine. “The last time I madethatmistake, it killed?—”

I struggled to breathe, grasping my chest as pain and panic clawed its way up my throat.

“Quinn…” He grabbed my arms, his fingers digging in as I forced more out.

“You don’t get to tell me what’s good enough for me. You don’t have a fucking clue who I am or what I need.”

Tearing away from him, I left him shell-shocked standing in the middle of the room. I pushed my way into the bathroom, snatching my clutch off the chaise as I went.

Once inside, I dug for my inhaler.

But my hands shook so violently I couldn’t pull it free.

Upending the bag, I dropped to my knees and brought the inhaler to my lips. I breathed in deep.

And even though the inhaler worked, my next breaths wouldn’t come easy.

Grief had locked me in a chokehold.

“Quinn, let me in.”

“Go away, Landon.” I sank down to my heels on the tile floor, dropping my head into my hands. “Please, just…Go away.”

My voice came out soft and small, so staggeringly different from the memory racing through my mind.

Nothing about it had been soft—no part of it small. Not the wreckage on that mountain road or in my life after it.

The enormity of it closed around me the way it always did.

Compressing my chest like the airbag as it deployed. Stealing my breath like the jolt when the car flipped. Squeezing my neck. Strangling the cries in my throat. Like the seatbelt choking me as I hung upside down above a bed of shattered glass…and screamed for my dad as he bled to death in front of me.

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