Page 67 of Beneath the Surface

All the tension and fear and longing of the past few days poured into the kiss. Quinn’s fingers threaded through his hair, tugging slightly. Dax’s hands splayed across her back, feeling the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her blouse.

Then Quinn’s phone rang. Shrill and insistent.

They broke apart, both breathing hard. Quinn fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking.

“Hello?” Her voice was breathless.

“Quinn, it’s Nathan,” he said softly, and Dax could hear the murmur of his voice following from the bedroom, “Your grandmother—she’s asking for you. Her breathing is getting labored. You should come.”

The blood drained from Quinn’s face. “I’m here. I’m coming.” She hung up, looked at Dax with panic in her eyes. “Gran—”

“Go. I’m right behind you.”

Quinn ran down the hall. Dax followed, his heart pounding.

In the bedroom, Quinn’s grandmother was struggling to breathe, each inhale a labored wheeze.

And Dax knew—this was it. The end was coming. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Quinn knelt beside the bed, taking her grandmother’s hand. “I’m here, Gran. I’m right here.”

The moment was gone. The kiss forgotten in the face of impending loss.

And Dax stood in the doorway, feeling like an intruder, watching Quinn’s world shatter again. Helpless to do anything but bear witness while he waited to try to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart when it was all over.

Chapter 13

Quinn’s grandmother stabilized around midnight.

Her breathing evened out, the crisis passing as quickly as it had come. But everyone knew what it meant—she was declining. Each episode brought her closer to the end.

Nathan gave Quinn a grim timeline. “Days. Maybe a week at most. I’m sorry.”

Quinn nodded numbly. She’d been sitting with her grandmother for hours, holding her hand, whispering stories and memories. Dax had stayed in the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to leave.

Now, in the quiet hours of early morning, Quinn emerged from the bedroom. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale with exhaustion.

“She’s sleeping,” Quinn said quietly. “Nathan gave her something for the pain.”

“You should sleep too.” Dax stood from where he’d been sitting in the hallway. Close enough to be there if needed. Far enough to give her space.

“I can’t.” Quinn wrapped her arms around herself. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her dying. Hear her struggling to breathe.”

His gut twisted. “Quinn—”

“We kissed.” She said it abruptly, looking at him with something raw and vulnerable in her eyes. “Earlier. In the kitchen. We kissed, and then Gran—and we just—”

“I know.”

“Was it a mistake? Another thing you’re going to pull away from?” Her voice cracked. “Because I can’t—I can’t handle that right now, Dax. Can’t handle you being close and then running away again.”

Dax wanted to tell her it wasn’t a mistake. That kissing her had felt like the first right thing he’d done in years. But the words stuck in his throat, tangled up with fear and self-preservation.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Quinn laughed, but there was no humor in it. “At least you’re honest.”

She moved past him toward the kitchen. Dax followed, watching as she filled a glass with water. Her hands were shaking.