Chapter 22

Quinn steps into the apartment, the scent of roast chicken filling the air. It's a cozy, quiet evening—and he's grateful to be home before 10 p.m. for the first time in at least a week. Lily's in the kitchen—fresh from a run, her hair tied up in a loose ponytail—cutting vegetables with that sharp focus he's come to admire. She doesn't notice him right away, so he takes a moment to stand at the kitchen door and watch her, letting the quiet settle around him.

When she finally looks up, her face softens, and she smiles, but there's a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Hey," she says, her voice light, but he can tell she's been waiting for him.

"Hey," he replies, crossing the room and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, his thumb brushing her shoulder as he leans in.

"How was your day?" she asks, sweeping a pile of chopped vegetables into a bowl and pushing the bowl aside.

"Long," he says, turning toward the fridge and pulling out a beer.

"They're all long these days," she remarks, glancing at him as he pops off the top and takes a swig. "What's been keeping you?"

"Settling into the new gig, I guess," he sighs, sitting down at the kitchen island.

She glances over her shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile, before resuming her chopping.

"Smells good," he murmurs, taking another long drink.

"It'll be ready soon," Lily says, her tone warm but distracted. "Didn't expect you this early."

"It's eight-thirty."

"Exactly," she chuckles.

Quinn watches her continue chopping for a beat before speaking up again, his voice quieter now. "Listen, I need to talk to you about something."

She sets the knife down and turns to face him, concern creeping into her expression. "What's up?"

Quinn runs a hand over his face. "I have to go to Tel Aviv—day after tomorrow."

Lily's face shifts instantly. The warmth in her eyes cools as she processes his words. "Tel Aviv?" She leans back against the counter, arms crossed. "For how long?"

"A week," he responds quickly. "Or… two. Tops," he adds, though he knows that sounds hollow even to him.

She stares at him for a moment, waiting for him to offer more details, but none come. "A week… or two?" she repeats, her voice tight. "And you're leaving the day after tomorrow. And… you're telling me this now?"

"I didn't know until today," Quinn says, trying to explain, but feeling the words fall flat as soon as they leave his mouth. "It's one of those situations—everything's moving fast. I wouldn't be going if it weren't important."

"Right," Lily replies, more sharply than he'd prefer.

Are they fighting already? He wasn't expecting this.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, a little too defensively.

"What's what supposed to mean?"

"It seems like you don't think this is important," he says, now feeling the frustration bubbling up.

"Everything you do is important, Quinn," Lily mutters, the sarcasm obvious in her tone. "Far be it from me to stand in the way of your very fucking important job." She turns her back to him and returns to chopping the vegetables, the knife clicking harshly against the board.

Quinn is stunned into silence. His jaw tightens. This is definitely a fight. He takes a breath, trying to steady himself.

"Lily, I don't want to fight with you," he says, softer now. "It's just… there's a lot of shit going down right now. Maybe you've seen it on Instagram?" he offers, his words tumbling out before he can stop himself. Immediately, he regrets it.

Lily slams the knife down, turning to face him with an angry flush. "No, Peter, I wasn't aware. Perhaps you can enlighten me. I haven't had much time to keep up with social media, what with trying to balance my full-time job with finding you a fucking house to live in. You know—the house you were supposed to find, but can't seem to make time for a single appointment?"

"You know, you're acting like I want this—like I'm looking for excuses to work 16-hour days or travel halfway around the fucking world to a war zone," he snaps, standing up, his frustration spilling out. "Believe me, I don't want to go. But as you might recall, I'm Director of Special Fucking Operations at the CIA. It's in my job description. I don't get to control when a war starts."

Lily glares at him. "I'll be sure to tell my parents that when they fly in next weekend to meet you. While you're in Tel Aviv."

Quinn freezes. Of course he'd forgotten. Shit. In the haze of everything, the logistics of a visit from her parents slipped through the cracks. He winces, guilt prickling at the back of his neck. "Shit," he mutters under his breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't—I didn't forget. I just—"

"Yeah, right," Lily cuts him off.

"Lily, come on, I know you're upset, but—"

"I am upset. And it would be nice it were a little more important to you—meeting my parents—rather than some fucking afterthought to literally everything else on earth."

Quinn snorts in frustration. "That's completely unfair. That is not how I feel."

"Isn't it? You're not exactly Mr. Family Guy, are you?" Lily's voice is dripping with sarcasm. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised you can't remember when you're supposed to meet my parents when you don't even talk about your own."

Quinn goes pale. The silence between them stretches, thick with the weight of her words. His chest constricts, and his jaw moves back and forth tightly.

He takes a long breath before he finally responds, his voice quiet, cold. "I don't have parents, that's why I've never brought them up."

Lily stares at him, her mouth falling open. She's caught completely off guard. For a very long moment, neither of them speaks. The air is heavy with the tension of unspoken truths.

"I grew up in foster care," Quinn continues, his voice low, each word like a small weight pulling him under. "Never knew who they were. No family. Just me. Until Dar. He found me when I was sixteen. Needed someone good at getting information from people who didn't want to talk."

Lily's face softens, the hardness melting away, but her eyes are wide with shock. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Her hand covers her mouth, the impact of his revelation sinking in.

"Quinn," Lily breathes, stepping forward, her voice breaking. She wipes at her eyes quickly, trying to hide the tears that spring up. "I don't—what I said, I had—I had no idea, and I—"

"I—no one—I've never—I don't talk about it. I haven't," he says quietly, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Fucking hell," Lily whispers, crossing the room to him. She places a hand gently on his arm. "God, I'm so—I such an asshole. What I said… it was awful. I didn't—"

"No," Quinn interrupts, shaking his head. "It's okay. I should've told you."

"I want to be here for you, Quinn. I want to know you," she says softly, her voice trembling.

He wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly. His own breath catches in his throat. "I know. And I'm sorry, I really am. I'll try to make it back for your parents. I do want to be here."

She buries her face against his chest, her voice muffled. "I wish I'd known."

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her tight. "I know. I'm sorry," he repeats softly.

They stay wrapped in each other's arms for a long time, with Lily's sniffles the only audible sound in the apartment.

Finally, Quinn breaks the silence. "You're wiping your nose on me, aren't you," he smiles despite the heaviness between them.

"No. Maybe. Yes," she mutters—her face still buried against his chest.

Quinn chuckles softly, a small moment of levity between them. "Okay. But next time, maybe consider a tissue."

Lily finally pulls her face away from his chest and looks up at him. They stand there for a long moment, the quiet between them feeling more like a new kind of understanding, something fragile but real.

Quinn pulls Lily a little closer, his hand gently cupping the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her skin. She doesn't pull away. Instead, she leans into him, her body soft and warm, and for the first time in what feels like days, they both breathe in sync.

There's an apology there, an unspoken understanding.

"I'm sorry," she finally murmurs, her voice small. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

Quinn sighs, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's okay. I'm sorry, too—I should've remembered about your parents…."

She nods, still holding on to him, but there's something heavier in her gaze now. "I just… I don't want to fight. You know that, right?"

He nods, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "I don't either. It's just—everything's moving so fast right now."

Lily looks up at him, her eyes searching his face. "It's just… sometimes I feel like everything gets put on hold for your job. And… I am just an afterthought."

The words hang between them, delicate and raw, but Quinn doesn't shy away from them. He pulls her back to him, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "You're not an afterthought to me, Lil. I—that's so far from how I feel. You have to know that."

They stand there for another long beat, just holding each other, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around them like a blanket.

Slowly, Quinn pulls back, his eyes meeting hers again. "Listen, I—don't want to leave. But I have to, and I'll make it up to you. I promise. I'll do everything I can to make it back for your parents."

Lily looks up at him, studying his face for a moment before leaning in, her lips finding his. It's a slow, soft kiss—no anger, no sharp edges. Just the warmth between them, a mutual understanding of how fragile everything feels, how much they need each other.

When they break apart, she doesn't let go, her fingers threading through the fabric of his shirt. "Come to bed with me," she murmurs, her voice low, almost a request. Her hands slide down his chest, tugging him gently toward the bedroom.

Quinn doesn't hesitate. He follows her, the silent invitation to be close too strong to ignore. Lily crawls into bed first, her body sinking into the sheets. Quinn follows, pulling the blankets up around them, the soft scent of her shampoo still lingering in the air.

She turns to face him, her eyes carrying that tenderness he's come to crave. "I want you to feel like you can talk to me. About anything."

Quinn pulls her closer, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. "I know. I just… I'm not used to it."

She doesn't respond, but her hand moves to his chest, resting there, feeling the steady beat of his heart. They lie there for a long moment, just holding each other in the quiet of the room. Neither of them says anything for a while, but it feels like the silence says everything they need.

Finally, Quinn leans down and kisses her softly. "I'll do better, I promise."

She sighs, content now, returning his kiss and deepening it. His fingers trace circles on her back as his hand moves lower down her body, finding their way under her shirt. She moans quietly, encouraging him to continue his exploration. Tonight he moves slowly and gently and deliberately, watching her as she matches his rhythm.

It feels like they've both just crossed an invisible threshold. Maybe things aren't perfect, but they're here, together. And that's enough—for now.