Saving Quinton by Jessica Sorensen
PublishedFebruary 3, 2015
Forever Trade Paperback
Forever Trade Paperback
From the # 1 New York Times bestselling author of Breaking Nova comes a gripping story about what it takes to save the one you love . . .
Nova Reed can't forget him-Quinton Carter, the boy with the honey-brown eyes who made her realize she deserved more than an empty life. His pain was so similar to her own. But Nova has been coming to terms with her past and healing, while Quinton is out there somewhere, sinking deeper. She's determined to find him and help him . . . before it's too late.
Nova has haunted his dreams for nearly a year-but Quinton never thought a sweet, kind person like her would care enough about a person like him. To Quinton, a dark, dangerous life is exactly what he deserves. And Nova has no place in it. But Nova has followed him to Las Vegas, and now he must do whatever it takes to keep her away, to maintain his self-imposed punishment for the unforgivable things he's done. But there's one flaw in his plan: Nova isn't going anywhere . . .
Nova has haunted his dreams for nearly a year-but Quinton never thought a sweet, kind person like her would care enough about a person like him. To Quinton, a dark, dangerous life is exactly what he deserves. And Nova has no place in it. But Nova has followed him to Las Vegas, and now he must do whatever it takes to keep her away, to maintain his self-imposed punishment for the unforgivable things he's done. But there's one flaw in his plan: Nova isn't going anywhere . . .
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I suddenly realize that I’m in
my room. Awake. And Nova’s here. With me. My thoughts start racing
as I try to recollect what happened. I was planning on those guys
beating me to death. Why didn’t that happen? Because it was too
easy? Do I deserve not to be let off so easy—do I deserve worse
than death? But if that’s true then why’s Nova here?
“What
are you doing here?” It’s painful to talk, but I force the words
to leave my mouth. “Or am I dreaming?”
She
repositions her hand on my cheek, but doesn’t pull away, the
startled look in her eyes diminishing. “You’re not dreaming…you
were unconscious but…are you okay?” She seems nervous and it
reminds me of how innocent and good she is, and how she shouldn’t
be here in the crack house that I call home.
“Why
are you here?” I ask, my voice feeble as I try to sit up, but my
arms aren’t working and I fall right back down on the mattress.
“I
came here to see you,” she replies, absent-mindedly touching her
lips, and I wonder if I really kissed her or if I was imagining it.
She
stares at me with her fingers on her lips and it’s uncomfortable
because she’s really
looking at me. I’ve been so used to people looking through me, as
if I were a ghost, seeing the drugs, the person that I am now, the
worthlessness all over me, instead of who I used to be. I’ve
forgotten what it’s like to be really looked at and for a split
second I enjoy it. Then she looks away and I feel like I’m dying,
my brain registering the pain in my legs, arms, chest—everywhere.
And I’m crashing. Badly. My hands start to shake, my heart rate
picking up as soon as I realize this.
“Go
put some ice in a plastic bag,” she says, snapping her fingers at
someone.
I
hear a mutter and then Tristan steps into my view. He glances down at
me and the haziness in his eyes lets me know he’s high on
something, but I’m glad he’s at least here and it doesn’t look
like he’s been beaten up. “Dude, you look like shit,” he tells
me with a dopey-ass grin.
“I
feel like shit,” I mutter, managing to get my hand up to my face to
rub my eyes. “You look like you got away.”
“I
did, and you should have run with me, you dumbass…I thought you
were for a while until I realized I was alone.” Tristan chuckles
under his breath. “Wait until you see yourself in a mirror.”
His
amusement seems to piss Nova off and she gets to her feet, tugging
the bottoms of her shorts down, fury burning in her eyes. “Go get a
fucking bag to put the ice in,” she says, not yelling, but her tone
is cold, abrupt, harsh, and she sort of shoves him. This isn’t the
Nova I remember at all and she kind of scares me.
She
seems to scare Tristan, too, who surrenders with his hands in front
of him and backs toward the doorway. “Fine. Jesus, Nova. You don’t
have to get crazy about it.”
“You
haven’t even begun to see me get crazy,” she snaps, pointing at
the door. “Now go get a damn bag.”
After
Tristan leaves, she turns to the doorway and says, “What am I going
to do?”
I
can’t see who she’s talking to and it makes me wonder who the
hell is in here. Delilah? I doubt it, since I don’t think she’d
be asking Delilah that question.
“I
don’t know,” someone replies. I still can’t see who it is, but
I can tell the voice belongs to a female and I hate how excited I get
over the fact that Nova’s not here with a guy.
Suddenly
a girl with black hair and big blue eyes steps in. “He looks…”
She assesses me, then looks at Nova. “He looks like he needs to go
to a hospital.”
“No
hospitals,” I croak. “I don’t have the cash to pay for that.”
And I don’t deserve to heal so easily. I should suffer for getting
up and running away from my death.
Nova
stares down at me with reluctance. “Quinton, I really think you
need to go to a hospital.” She kneels back down on the mattress,
sweeping her long brown hair to the side as she leans over me. Her
fingers gently enfold my wrist and, moving slowly, she bends my arm
so I can get a good view of my hand. It’s twice the size it
normally is and my skin is purple and blue. Even where her fingers
are, the skin is swollen and raw, and it seems like her touch should
hurt, but all I can feel is heat—her heat. God, I’ve missed her
heat. I’ve spent the last year wrapped up in coldness, feeling the
numbness of drugs and sex with random women and now she’s here and
I feel like I’m burning up.
“It’s
just a bruise,” I say, not looking at my hand, but at her. I want
to hold her, hug her, kiss her, touch her, but I also want her to go
away. Stay. Leave. Right. Wrong. Lexi. Nova. Guilt.
Guilt.
Guilt.
Guilt.
It
was all your fault.
Jessica Sorensen is a #1 New York Times and USA Todaybestselling author who lives with her husband and three kids in Idaho. When she's not writing, she spends her time reading and hanging out with her family.
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