And when I cut my hand once, he literally teared up while bandaging it.
But that guy? He disappeared a long time ago.
Quentin looked wrecked–like someone had flipped his switch off.
I flagged down a cab, about to get in when he grabbed my hand, eyes begging.
“Vivienne…”
He barely got my name out before a sharp scream tore through the air.
Rainee was on the ground, blood spreading fast.
“Quentin, help me! It hurts–please!”
I just stood there, cold as ever.
His grip on my hand froze.
“You better get her to the hospital,” I said. “Wait too long, you’ll lose both.”
He flinched, eyes flickering like he was caught between two storms.
Then he looked down. Couldn’t even face me.
“Quit lying to me–and yourself. Even if she played you, you were never gonna walk away from her.”
That broke whatever hope was left.
He let go, but his voice was firm. “Vivienne, give me three days. I’ll make it right–I swear.”
Then he bolted to Rainee.
I watched him go, didn’t flinch. Just gave the faintest smile.
Three days? Not a chance.
