Owen leans back in his seat and rubs his eyes. The memory seems painful, but he’s also intent on getting it all out.
“She was right about one thing, I was lost. She tipped me into my anger, coaxed me to use my powers. I needed something to focus on and she told me she the perfect way to use them.”
“Selling drugs,” Astrid says.
“Yes. See, I thought she was just some crazy chick who needed Peter Pan in her life and understood the hardships of losing people. But the longer I stayed in the business, the harder I pushed and prodded into the hierarchy, I realized that it was all a charade. Just another one of her delusional games. She was the one behind the drugs and deaths. Pixie Dust was the means to her end. I was narrowing my options on her when you stormed the warehouse.”
“Oof.” Astrid exhales. “Bad timing.”
“Or good. You probably saved my life.”
“So what are you saying,” Quinn asks. “What’s the point of this story?”
“Demetria lives in a fantasy. She thinks she’s Wendy Darling, that I’m Peter Pan.”
“Is she mad that you betrayed her at the Gala?”
“She’ll only be upset that I’m gone. You know Peter has a penchant for mischief. That’s expected, but if you’ve read the books, Wendy’s biggest fear is growing up—losing her childhood. If everything you’ve told me about our past is true, then we’re all part of her game.”
“Why do you think you’re Peter?” Quinn holds up his hands and adds, “Not that I’m jealous, but there were a lot of boys in the home.”
Owen turns to Astrid. “I don’t know but I think there may be a way for us to find out.”
“How?” she asks.
“I need you to read my echo again. Find out what happened when we were kids.”
Quinn looks nervously between them. “Read your echo again?”
Astrid swears under her breath and confesses, “You’re not the only one keeping secrets.”
*
There’s a private bath and shower off of Atticus’s office. Astrid is washing off the sweat when she hears a knock on the door.
“It’s me,” Quinn says over the rushing water. “Can I come in?”
“In the bathroom or in the shower?”
“Well, if there’s an invitation for the latter…”
The joke loses its impact, knowing they’ve both been keeping secrets. He’d needed a minute and she used the time to clean off and to give him a chance to calm down. She peers around the corner of the shower curtain. He’s still in his workout clothes, leaning against the counter, and although it’s unbelievably tempting, she shakes her head. “I’m thinking that may be a bad idea right now.”
She drops the curtain and steps back under the spray. From the other side he adds, “How did things get so convoluted? I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.”
“Me either,” she says. “Can you hand me my towel?”
A red Elite towel appears at the edge of the stall. She takes it and her fingers skim over his. She hasn’t turned off the water but wraps the cloth around her body and steps out. “You’re up.”
His heart stutters when he sees her, but he doesn’t make a move. He simply kicks off his shoes and pulls his T-shirt over his head. The smell of his sweat and pheromones nearly knocks her off her feet. She can’t help but look at his body. Pure chiseled perfection. She turns her head when he lowers his shorts.
Once he’s behind the curtain and she hears the spray hit his body, she confesses, “Owen and I weren’t just at the house to get his things.”
Quinn stops moving and his pulse sounds like a beacon. “Okay.”
“We were there testing a theory he had about expanding my abilities.”
Still no movement behind the curtain.
“And?”
“And it worked.” She steps into a clean pair of panties and hooks her bra behind her back, adjusting the cups.
“That’s all you did.”
“Yeah, I mean, before those assholes came and shot up the house. We actually made a little progress. The methods we used were a little unconventional,” she says, drying her hair with a towel. “I didn’t want you to worry. Owen’s a bit of a wild card at times but we were completely safe. Sure, at first I was worried, and I knew you’d be pissed about it, but I think it was a risk worth taking.”
The curtain slides back and Quinn, with water dripping down every inch of his toned body, stares at her. Hard.
She reaches for the towel to cover herself but it slips and falls to the ground.
“Astrid, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about taking Pixie Dust to allow my echo to work on Owen.”
He blinks. “You used Pixie Dust?”
“Yes.”
“On purpose.”
“Yes.”
“So tell me,” his arms cross and his jaw tics, “are you insane? Because that sounds insane. Or maybe Owen is insane? Because I’ll happily beat that out of him.”
“Neither of us is insane, Quinn. We took a risk and it worked. With the barrier down, I was able to read Owen.”
He swallows thickly and his eyes graze over her one last time before dropping the curtain. “You read his echo.”
“Yes.” He sounds mad. Is he mad? She’s not sure. There’s just a lot of questions.
“And?”
“And I learned a few things.” She’s not going to tell him what she read on Owen. That’s not her place to say. But she adds, “I managed to alter his emotions by pushing different ones back on him.”
The curtain slides again, swinging back quickly and giving her full view of Quinn’s body. His entire body.
It’s always a shock to realize how big he is. Like all of him. Is really big.
“You altered his emotions?” The stern look before is replaced by something different, genuine curiosity.
“Yes, he was pretty consumed with some dark stuff—things that had happened in his house—and it was painful. I just, I couldn’t take it, and I pushed back. I wanted him to feel better.”
The curtain falls and he vanishes again, but after a moment the water stops and his arm reaches out. Astrid hands him a towel and a second later he appears, wrapped from the waist down, water trickling down every curve and dip of his body.
She’s still in nothing but her underwear and her senses are overwhelmed by the steamy heat coming off his body and the concentrated scent of soap. Heart thumping, she backs into the counter and he approaches her with ease and confidence.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
He’s entirely too hard to resist.
Except he doesn’t make a move. He just reaches for her and pulls her into a tight bear-hug.
“Quinn?” she says, nose pressed into his chest. It’s not a bad place to suffocate.
“I knew you were special, Astrid. I could tell the first time I met you. You’re strong and talented but I didn’t realize how brave. You took a chance with Owen’s idea—a fucking stupid-as-hell idea—but it paid off. And you used it to help him.”
“I want to do it again to find out the truth about him and Demetria at the group home.”
He nods. “I can get behind that, but I want to be there too.”
“I want you there; to be honest, a lot of my memories of those days are mixed up and filled with fear and anxiety.”
“Me too.”
“We were just kids,” she says, leaning into his weight.
“Yep, but now it’s time to face the past so we can do what’s right for the future.
Chapter Seventeen
Quinn
We sit on the floor of the living room, circled up like kids over a Ouija board.
The Pixie Dust is already mixed in the cup of soda, and Astrid and Owen have split the contents. Quinn sits nearby, unwilling to drink on his own—more like a babysitter because of his wariness of the experiment. It’s not a bad idea, though, and probably something they should have considered the first time.