noticed Quinn. “Oh, hi Quinn.”
“It’s okay Tucker, go ahead.” Mack gestured for him to keep speaking.
Quinn put her book down and straightened up, her eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Unintentionally, she put a hand up to her chest, a sad attempt to calm her racing heart.
This is it.
“They’re on their way back. He— uh, he got away.”
Mack nodded and Tucker disappeared without another word. Quinn didn’t know what to think. She swallowed down the thick lump that had formed in her throat. How could she be both disappointed that Travis was still alive, yet thoroughly relieved that he wasn’t killed? It made no sense and these warring feelings were turning her into a wreck.
“Can I go home now?” she asked, her stomach churning nervously.
“Why don’t you wait for everyone to—”
Mack was cut off by a loud crashing noise in the gym, followed by shouting. Without thinking, she raced down the hall, recognizing Rick’s voice.
“Fuck! Fuuuuck!” Rick was standing in front of the heavy bag, hitting it over and over again, letting out a constant stream of obscenities as his fists flew violently.
Quinn came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the padded mats. Ben was righting a weight rack that she could only assume Rick had knocked over in a fit of rage. For the first time ever, she was honestly afraid to approach Rick. His fury was so palpable Quinn could feel it all the way down to her bones. It was so potent— it literally sent chills across her skin. She was at a total loss as to what to do.
Thankfully, Clint walked over to Rick, unafraid to get within striking distance of a very hostile former Recon Marine. She couldn’t hear what Clint murmured in Rick’s ear, but whatever it was, it didn’t help. Rick lashed out, shoving the large man out of his way and yelling in his face. “Fuck off!” He thundered past Quinn without glancing her way and disappeared into the locker room, leaving everyone stunned.
Quinn winced at the loud banging of metal on metal that came from behind the closed door, looking to Clint for help. He shrugged and averted his eyes. “It didn’t go down well, Quinn.”
That much was obvious, but it didn’t explain Rick’s behavior. Or why he wouldn’t so much as look at her. Less than a minute later, Rick stormed back out of the locker room, once again passing Quinn without acknowledging her presence.
“Rick!” Quinn couldn’t let him leave like this. Not without an explanation as to why he was so angry and why it felt like that anger was directed at her specifically. She took a few steps with the intention of following him.
Without warning, Rick whirled around. Quinn flinched when she caught sight of the hostile expression he wore. “Don’t!” He stabbed a finger in her direction, warning her not to speak. “I can’t—” Rick was beyond agitated. She watched, helpless, as he tore at his own hair, his jaw clenched in frustration. Rick shook his head. “I can’t do this.” Before she could take another breath, he was gone.
Stunned and humiliated, Quinn could feel everyone’s eyes on her as she stood in the middle of the gym. She caught a glimpse of Mack, standing by himself doing that deep thinking thing he’d been doing a lot of lately. Clint must have sensed her impending breakdown, because he took her elbow and quickly escorted her back to her apartment. Once there, instead of losing it, Quinn was completely numb, unable to process the rapid-fire events of the last ten minutes.
“Here.” She felt a glass of water being pressed into her hand as Clint led her to the couch. He dropped into the ratty old armchair opposite where she sat and leaned over the coffee table to talk. “Rick is angry.”
A slightly hysterical giggle bubbled up from Quinn’s throat. “You think?” She gaped, struggling to explain how she felt. “I don’t get it? Is he gone? Why is he angry with me? What—”
“He is angry, but it’s—” he sighed.
“It’s okay Tucker, go ahead.” Mack gestured for him to keep speaking.
Quinn put her book down and straightened up, her eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Unintentionally, she put a hand up to her chest, a sad attempt to calm her racing heart.
This is it.
“They’re on their way back. He— uh, he got away.”
Mack nodded and Tucker disappeared without another word. Quinn didn’t know what to think. She swallowed down the thick lump that had formed in her throat. How could she be both disappointed that Travis was still alive, yet thoroughly relieved that he wasn’t killed? It made no sense and these warring feelings were turning her into a wreck.
“Can I go home now?” she asked, her stomach churning nervously.
“Why don’t you wait for everyone to—”
Mack was cut off by a loud crashing noise in the gym, followed by shouting. Without thinking, she raced down the hall, recognizing Rick’s voice.
“Fuck! Fuuuuck!” Rick was standing in front of the heavy bag, hitting it over and over again, letting out a constant stream of obscenities as his fists flew violently.
Quinn came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the padded mats. Ben was righting a weight rack that she could only assume Rick had knocked over in a fit of rage. For the first time ever, she was honestly afraid to approach Rick. His fury was so palpable Quinn could feel it all the way down to her bones. It was so potent— it literally sent chills across her skin. She was at a total loss as to what to do.
Thankfully, Clint walked over to Rick, unafraid to get within striking distance of a very hostile former Recon Marine. She couldn’t hear what Clint murmured in Rick’s ear, but whatever it was, it didn’t help. Rick lashed out, shoving the large man out of his way and yelling in his face. “Fuck off!” He thundered past Quinn without glancing her way and disappeared into the locker room, leaving everyone stunned.
Quinn winced at the loud banging of metal on metal that came from behind the closed door, looking to Clint for help. He shrugged and averted his eyes. “It didn’t go down well, Quinn.”
That much was obvious, but it didn’t explain Rick’s behavior. Or why he wouldn’t so much as look at her. Less than a minute later, Rick stormed back out of the locker room, once again passing Quinn without acknowledging her presence.
“Rick!” Quinn couldn’t let him leave like this. Not without an explanation as to why he was so angry and why it felt like that anger was directed at her specifically. She took a few steps with the intention of following him.
Without warning, Rick whirled around. Quinn flinched when she caught sight of the hostile expression he wore. “Don’t!” He stabbed a finger in her direction, warning her not to speak. “I can’t—” Rick was beyond agitated. She watched, helpless, as he tore at his own hair, his jaw clenched in frustration. Rick shook his head. “I can’t do this.” Before she could take another breath, he was gone.
Stunned and humiliated, Quinn could feel everyone’s eyes on her as she stood in the middle of the gym. She caught a glimpse of Mack, standing by himself doing that deep thinking thing he’d been doing a lot of lately. Clint must have sensed her impending breakdown, because he took her elbow and quickly escorted her back to her apartment. Once there, instead of losing it, Quinn was completely numb, unable to process the rapid-fire events of the last ten minutes.
“Here.” She felt a glass of water being pressed into her hand as Clint led her to the couch. He dropped into the ratty old armchair opposite where she sat and leaned over the coffee table to talk. “Rick is angry.”
A slightly hysterical giggle bubbled up from Quinn’s throat. “You think?” She gaped, struggling to explain how she felt. “I don’t get it? Is he gone? Why is he angry with me? What—”
“He is angry, but it’s—” he sighed.
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