Page 133 of Beneath the Surface

“Had to.” Dax’s voice was getting stronger, fighting through the drugs. “Had to get you out. Couldn’t let him—” His breath hitched. “I’m sorry, Quinn. For everything. For the cabin. For trying to control you. For—”

“Shh.” Quinn pressed her fingers gently to his lips. “We’ll talk about all of that later. When you’re not hopped up on morphine.”

“No. Need to—need to say it now.” Dax’s hand tightened on hers almost painfully. “I was so afraid. Of losing you. Like everyone else. And I let that fear turn me into—into someone who hurt you. Someone who didn’t trust you. Didn’t respect your choices.”

His eyes were bright now, too bright. Tears or fever or both.

“You left because of me. Went back to your house because I drove you away. And Wheeler took you because I couldn’t—” His voice cracked. “Because I failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me.” Quinn’s own tears were falling now, dropping onto their joined hands. “Dax, you came for me. You came alone into that building knowing you might die. You saved my life.”

“After putting it in danger—”

“Wheeler put me in danger. Not you.” Quinn leaned forward until their faces were inches apart. “And yes, you were an overprotective ass who tried to lock me away like Rapunzel. And yes, we’re going to have to work on that. But Dax—” She made sure he was looking at her, really seeing her. “You also listened when I left. You let me go. You gave me the space I needed, even though it terrified you.”

“And look what happened—”

“And then you came when I needed you most.” Quinn’s voice was fierce now. “Not because you were trying to control me. But because you love me. Because we’re partners. Because that’s what we do. We save each other.”

Dax was quiet for a long moment, his dark eyes searching her face.

“I love you,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “So much it scares me. So much I don’t know how to—how to love you without also losing my mind with fear.”

“Then we figure it out together.” Quinn brought his hand to her lips, kissed his knuckles. “We learn how to balance your fear with my need for freedom. We communicate instead of you making unilateral decisions. We trust each other.”

“I do trust you.”

“You trust me to be capable. But you don’t trust me to make my own choices about risk.” Quinn held his gaze. “That has to change, Dax. I need you to trust me with my own life. Even when it scares you.”

Dax closed his eyes, pain flickering across his face—not physical this time. “What if I can’t? What if every time you walk out the door, I—”

“Then we work on it. Therapy maybe. Talking it through. Whatever it takes.” Quinn’s voice softened. “But Dax, I can’t be with someone who treats me like evidence to be secured. I need a partner. An equal. Someone who loves me enough to let me be myself, even when it’s terrifying.”

“I want to be that person.” Dax opened his eyes again. “I want to be better. For you. With you.”

“Then we’ll figure it out.” Quinn smiled through her tears. “Together. No more cages. No more locked cabins. Just...us. Being honest. Being real.”

“Together,” Dax echoed. His hand squeezed hers. “I’m not letting you go again, Quinn. Not unless you tell me to. And even then, I’m going to fight for us.”

“Good.” Quinn leaned forward and kissed him—gentle, careful of his injuries, but full of promise. “Because I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Mercer.”

“Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Dax murmured against her lips.

They stayed like that for a moment, foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air, suspended in this small bubble of peace amid the chaos.

Then the door opened.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Barrett, but he needs to rest now,” the nurse said.

Quinn pulled back reluctantly. “I’ll come back. First thing tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here,” Dax said, attempting a smile that turned into a grimace as his shoulder twinged. “Not going anywhere.”

Quinn stood but didn’t let go of his hand. “Dax?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For coming for me. For not giving up. For—” Her voice broke. “For loving me enough to almost die.”