Page 63 of North

I walked back to my room, zipped up my suitcase, and this time, I knew exactly where I was going.

Chapter 23

North

I sat on my bed, my head in my hands, Quinn’s voice looping in my head with a bunch of accusations she hadn’t said yet—accusations that she still had all the right to throw in my face.

There was a pain in my chest as I thought about how much she must’ve been hurting right then. Nothing about this was worth it. I should’ve stopped this before it started. I should’ve never given in. And actually, I probably should’ve left the second she fucking moved in. Evie wasn’t the only one with an apartment near the college campus.

I should’ve gone there the second things got difficult. I sure as hell thought about it, but it never felt as right as making her come undone—and breaking her afterward.

Quinn had every right to leave and ignore me after this. I saw it on her face when she went to her room the last time. The resolve. God, just the thought of her leaving—walking away and never coming back—made my stomach twist into knots. I was trying to breathe through the weight of it when I heard a sound.

A door.

Opening. Closing.

Mouth dry, I followed the sound to the kitchen, and there she was. Quinn. Standing there, suitcase in hand, hair wild, face flushed and tear-streaked. Relief slammed into me first, fast and violent. Then came the rage.

I stormed toward her, the air between us charged with something dark, something uncontrollable.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

She stiffened, her expression twisting with fury.

“Move, North.”

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

The thought of her walking out the door, of her being gone—actually gone—made my entire body go rigid.

“You don’t get to fucking leave like this,” I snapped, voice low and sharp. “I told you—you don’t get to fucking leave me, Quinn.”

Her breath hitched, and then her face contorted with rage. “Fuck you.”

She shoved me, her small hands pressing against my chest, but I didn’t move.

I let her push.

I let her hit me, her fists curling into my hoodie, her eyes blazing with so much fucking pain that it made my stomach churn.

Then when she turned—to walk away again—I grabbed her wrist.

She froze, glaring at me until I had no choice but to apologize. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll do whatever it takes, but you can’t just leave. Not like this.”

Her chest was rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. “You don’t get to do this,” she whispered. “You don’t get to ruin me and then decide you care.”

Before she could say another word, I grabbed her face and crashed my mouth against hers. Quinn gasped. Then she bit my lip, hard, like she wanted to hurt me. Her sharp teeth drew blood and my cock grew hard, remembering every other time she’d done that. When we were arguing, when she was coming.

I groaned, my grip tightening on her waist as I slammed her against the kitchen counter. A glass fell to the floor, shattering—but I didn’t care. I just needed her.

She clawed at me as I ripped her sweater off. The fabric tore, but neither of us gave a shit. My hands roamed her body, gripping, pulling, needing.

"I hate you," she snarled, nails digging into my shoulders.

"I know."

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