Page 7 of Cruel Titan

Turning, I tensely step away, walking to my room as nothing happened because nothing new did.

Stepping into the room, I glance around, shoving away memories of Quinn draped across my bed, feeling safe and secure before all hell broke loose a week ago. It was a lie. On her part and mine. I knew I should stay away from her and I’d tried my best until I was pulled deeper and deeper into her clutches until I was too weak to fight against it.

My fist unconsciously slams against the unyielding wall, and the pain that shoots through it isn’t enough to pull focus from the tightness in my lungs. Reaching for the closest thing within my grasp, I clutch the glass paperweight from the desk, slinging it across the room. It crashes against the dresser mirror, shattering it into shards as I’m already reaching for something else to get my hands on. Launching a heavy, brass table lamp across the room, I want to feel anything but the weakness that is smothering me. This is my fault, and I will fix this problem. She doesn’t want the truth, but she won’t make me the weak child I once was. I’ll do what I do best, turn the tables and inflict torment and misery on her. It’s what I’ve done since before she even knew my name and before she realized the truth. Because I am responsible for her dad’s death.

The bedroom door swings open, and Victoria steps into the room, shock on her face as she takes in the mangled room I’m standing in the middle of. “What’s going on?”

“Just redecorating,” I reply flatly.

Her expression says she doesn’t appreciate my sarcastic humor. “Asher,” she whispers, the pity in her voice mirrors the times when we were weak, defenseless children.

“Victoria, stop. I’m fine.”

She remains motionless, watching me like I’m about to sprout a third eye or something. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You know how crazy Dad makes me.”

“Are you sure it’s about Dad?” she hesitantly asks, though she knows the answer to her question.

“Yep,” I lie, not caring if she buys it or not. I head to take a shower because as much as I want to deny it, Quinn will be harder to get out of my system than I care to admit.

6

Quinn

Solemnly, I perfect the knot on my school tie before pulling on the stiff blazer. To say I’m dreading the day would be an understatement. I feel like I’m on a boat that is sinking fast, and I have no choice but to go down with it. I’ve managed to mostly avoid Asher over the last week, but I know he won’t give in so easily after the confrontation last night. All I can do is brace myself for what he will try next. Hopefully, I can hold him off until I get a chance to speak with Davis … if he’s able to wake up.

Shaking my head, I try to push the horrible thought of him never regaining consciousness out. He has to recover not only to help me figure out who is responsible for all the death and devastation, but he has to wake up for Lindsey. She shouldn’t lose her husband because he was investigating my dad’s case; no case should cost an honest detective everything.

Looking to several pairs of identical black ballerina flats lined perfectly on the closet shelf, I snatch an unworn pair. A pair without traces of mud from the cemetery. Hurrying out of the room, I try to focus on anything except the scenes that play in my head from my dad’s service. Maybe school is the perfect distraction because I need something—anything—else to focus on.

The deliciously enticing aroma of cinnamon mixed with freshly brewed coffee fills my senses as I make my way into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, I spot Francis removing freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the oven as she greets me with a warm smile and a chipper good morning.

“Good morning.” I give Francis a half-smile, knowing she’s gone above her regular housekeeping duties lately to check in on me often. She’s spending even more time with the family since we received the news that my dad’s remains were found. Somehow, her presence has felt comforting, unlike Candace’s. My own mother feels like a stranger. Flashing unbidden through my mind is the photo of her and my dad together when, as far as I knew, they hadn’t had contact since Candace walked out on us eleven years ago. Why had they been meeting, and more importantly, why hadn’t my dad told me about it? He’d always avoided talking about her, yet had been secretly meeting with her. I can’t help but wonder if Nathan knows anything about those meetups as I return his cheerful morning greeting and watch him fill his mug with coffee.

“Any plans for after school?” Nathan asks as he makes his way over to the table.

I do have plans, but I can’t exactly tell Nathan about them because I plan to visit Davis and Lindsey again. It’s only been a few days, but I don’t feel right unless I check on the both of them often. “Nothing much. Just catching up on some homework.”

“Well, if you aren’t too busy with your studies, we have a lot of work at the office and could sure use some extra help.”

I wonder if this is his way of trying to keep an eye on me in light of what happened with Asher last night or maybe because of everything with my dad. Nathan might not be personally responsible, but the contracts with my forged signature definitely tie him to some part of it. A part that I pray he didn’t intentionally play, resulting in my nightmare. I really need to talk to Davis.

Sensing my hesitation, Nathan speaks before I have a chance. “Just think about it. The offer is there if you want to explore the marketing world.”

“Oh, she doesn’t want to be shut inside some stuffy office building every evening,” Francis teases as she slides us each a porcelain plate with a cinnamon roll on it.

I’m thankful to Francis for breaking the tension I feel as I look over to Nathan. “I really need to catch up since I missed a few days of school, but I’ll think about it.”

“Good deal,” Nathan smiles, taking a generous swallow of coffee before turning his attention to Tanner, who has more icing on him than was on the cinnamon roll.

“It’d look good on your college applications, which we need to start filling out sooner than later,” Candace chimes in.

Up until a few months ago, she was nowhere to be found in my life, and now she wants to talk about college and my future. “I’m not sure if I’m going to college.”

“Haley said you were planning to attend UT together .”

“I planned to do a lot of things that I won’t be doing now.” The words are bitter and it’s not the broken plans with Haley that bother me. It’s the defunct plan of my dad helping me with college applications, not Candace.