Page 50 of Save Me
“Will you join me?”
She shakes her head with regret. “Wish I could. Dad wants me to shower and change and attend a meeting with him in a bit.”
I tilt my head, worried. “What kind of meeting?”
“The kind where moles get dug up,” Quen murmurs.
“Ah fuck. Give me a few minutes to shower and change as well, and I’ll come with you.”
“Dad says he wants me there alone. He needs to see how I hold up without you guys there.”
I exchange a glance with Quen, who is as worried about this as I am.
Vogue sees it and smiles, cupping my face. “I’ll be with my dad. And Adam.”
Snickering at the afterthought, I nod. “Well, there are worse people to be with.”
“Exactly.” She rises on her tiptoes to kiss me, and then she’s gone.
“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” I mutter. “I’m showering then I guess we head to campus?”
“Yeah,” he says and saunters off.
I head upstairs to the room I assigned myself and strip off the day-old clothes. The shower is a godsend. It streams hot, almost scalding, but it does fuck-all for the tension knotted in my muscles. My mind races, churning over the meeting Vogue’s stepping into, alone. My gut churns with fear and pride. She’s strong—fuck, she’s one of the strongest people I know—but this is deep-end shit.
Aaron is not fucking about with this training. It’s brutal. A baptism by fire.
Moments later, I step out, dry off, throw on the first clean set of clothes my hands find, and head out, trying to keep pace with the morning that seems hell-bent on outrunning me.
Quentin is waiting for me by the door, hovering uncertainly, which is very unlike him. He usually owns the room, not giving a single fuck about anything.
“You okay?” I ask, as it hits me that we are once again minus a set of wheels. This is getting ridiculous.
“Yeah, just this shit with the Duke. It’s taking a mental toll that I need a fucking break from.”
“Want my advice?” I venture.
His hard gaze pins mine, but I don’t back down. Eventually, he sighs, “Sure. What can it hurt?”
“Forgive him. He tried, Quen. I know it doesn’t help, and you still had to grow up in that hellhole, but he never stopped looking for you.”
“Yeah. It doesn’t help.” He turns his back on me and strides off down the driveway towards the gates.
I rush to catch up. “Seriously?” I groan. “We’re walking?”
“Unless you have a car shoved up your ass, yeah, we’re walking. I’m not borrowing one when we have three at the penthouse. Why did no one have the foresight to drive at least another one here yesterday?”
The answer is simple. “We all wanted to be with Vogue.”
He acknowledges the truth in that, and we head out through the gates that magically open for us.
“What’s with these fucking things?”
“Fuck knows,” he grunts, and that’s the end of that conversation, or any conversation as we start the half an hour walk back to the campus.
By the time we hit the edge of the campus, I can feel the sweat sticking my shirt to my back. It’s a good kind of exhaustion, though; makes me feel alive and reminds me we’re still free to walk the streets despite the shitstorm swirling around us.
Quentin’s been silent the whole way, lost in his thoughts. I’ve known him long enough to know when to leave him be. When we finally reach the penthouse, there’s a sense of relief as we step inside.
