But there are clouds in the distance that match the ones in his eyes, the ones that belong to the thing he wants the most—his addiction. Telling me that hope is about to fade completely and it does about thirty minutes after we leave the city. We’re about halfway to Lea’s uncle’s house when Quinton starts to get squirmy and agitated. Finally he reaches into his pocket and when he does, he flips out.
“Shit,” he curses, balling his hands into fists.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, turning down the music.
He shakes his head, his jaw set tight. “I forgot to bring something with me.”
I smash my lips together with my eyes on the road, focused on getting us through traffic. “Drugs? I thought you weren’t going to do any while we were out?”
He gets testy, scowling at me. “I said I would try, but I can’t do it.” His tone gets clipped. “I never thought I could.”
I grip the steering wheel tightly as the simplicity of the day dissipates. “So you lied to me?”
“I said I would try,” he snaps, the monster inside starting to take him over. “And I went without it for a few hours, but I can’t do it anymore…I need to go home now.” He takes his cigarettes out and starts smoking.
“I can’t turn around right here.” We’re on the freeway so that’s not even possible. And even if it were, I’d still try to get out of it.
His hands are quivering as he holds the cigarette between his fingers. “Nova, I’m trying not to lose it here, but things are going to get really ugly really fast if you don’t turn around this f**king car.”
“Quinton, I—”
He pounds his fist against the door. “Take. Me. Home. Now.” His voice is low and carries a warning.
I want to cry. I want to scream at him. But I can see the ugliness—the hunger—rising in his eyes and it frightens me. So I do something I’ll always hate myself for. I take the next exit and turn the car around, heading back toward the house, feeling our happy day dwindle, like the sunlight in the sky.
Quinton
I messed up badly. Not just with that damn kiss. In fact, I’m confused right now over the kiss and whether I regret it or not. And that confusion is causing a stir inside me and I forgot to bring a few lines with me, so I can’t calm the stir down. I’ve never done that before. Always remembered the thing that keeps me thriving. But Nova distracted me with the promise of a good day, smiling at me, making me get lost in her again. Kissing me like I’m the air she needs to breathe. It’s so f**king wrong, yet it feels so right at the same time.
And now I’m crashing. Hard. And ruining that beautiful day Nova tried to create.
By the time we arrive at my place, I’m sweating, panting, my hands split open where I stabbed my nails into them, and I can’t feel my mouth from grinding my jaw. I feel like shit but there’s only one thing that’s going to make it go away and I concentrate on that: the small plastic bag hidden under my mattress. The single thing that makes life bearable, makes the confusion bearable.
But the tension coiling inside me tightens when I notice a black Cadillac in the parking lot and a large man standing outside it, leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette. It looks like the car that pulled up when I got jumped and the man smoking looks like Donny, the guy who beat the shit out of me. It’s only been six days since Trace made a threat, but for some reason I’m not surprised they’re early.
Shit, Tristan.
“Thanks for hanging out with me,” I say quickly, grabbing the door handle. My thoughts are going haywire as a bunch of thoughts surface at once. I hope it’s not Trace that’s here. I hope Tristan’s not in trouble. I hope no one’s found my stash. The last thought is so selfish, yet I can’t control it. My addiction controls me at the moment.
“Wait, what’s wrong?” Nova asks, noticing my sudden jumpiness. She tracks my gaze to the car and Donny, her forehead creasing. “Who is that guy?”
“No one,” I say, my fingers fumbling to get the seat belt undone.
“But you seem nervous,” she replies, looking at me concernedly. “Does this have anything to do with that Trace guy?”
I hate that she knows enough about my drug life that she knows who Trace is. “Everything’s fine, Nova. You just need to go.” I don’t make eye contact with her as I climb out of the car. When I go to shut the door, she calls out my name, making me pause, briefly pulling me back to her.
“Quinton, wait, I can tell something’s wrong,” she says with a plea in her tone. “So just tell me.”
“Nova, let it go,” I say, lowering my head to look into the car at her. “You can’t be here right now. It’s too dangerous.”
“It is about that Trace guy, isn’t it? Tristan didn’t pay him back in time?” She worriedly flicks a glance over at Donny. “Jesus, Quinton, this is bad.”
“I know it is,” I say, looking at Donny, who’s taken notice of us and turned in our direction. He has his weapon of choice in his hand. A tire iron, and my body aches as I remember what it felt like to be beat by it.
“Do you need to borrow money?” she asks as I look back at her. “Because I have like fifty dollars on me if you need it.”
God dammit, Nova and her sweetness. It’s killing me because she just needs to stop caring and leave. “Fifty dollars isn’t going to do any good and I already said I don’t want you involved in this.” I shut the door, hoping it’ll end there.
But she gets out of the car and shouts over the roof, “But I want to help you.”
“God dammit, Nova!” I shout as Donny starts to stroll toward us with a smirk on his face. I panic. Not because I’m worried anything’s going to happen to me. It’s all about Nova. “Get back in the f**king car!” I yell at her from over the roof.
Donny pats the tire iron against the palm of his hand like he did the first time he beat the shit out of me, but he’s not looking at me, but at Nova. This is so f**king bad. And all my fault.
“Trace wants to see you,” he calls out as he approaches us, his black boots scraping the dirt.
My muscles wind into painful, guilty knots, connected to Nova. I think of Roy and what Trace did to his girlfriend, how he raped her. I have to get her out of here. Now. She should never have been here to begin with. I should never have let her into my life like this. What the hell was I thinking?