Chapter 23

Quinn climbs back into bed the next morning, shirtless and holding a coffee mug, careful not to wake Lily. She's sound asleep, her tousled hair framing her face, looking so peaceful. Although they made up last night—three times, but who's counting?—he still feels raw from their fight and his slip-up about his past.

A past he'd hoped to keep hidden. Until… what? Until they're sending out wedding invitations and he has no family to invite? This is what happens when you get too close to someone: they want to know who you are.

At least he didn't feed her the bullshit cover story he gives everyone else: the Philly/Hill School/Harvard CIA line (thanks, Dar). He knew from the start Lily was different. He couldn't lie to her like that. But even so, being raised in foster care with no real family isn't exactly the same as "being from Baltimore"—which, in fairness, is true—but he's hardly been forthcoming on the subject. Still, a part of him is relieved. She knows the truth now, and instead of running, she stayed.

Despite the fight, despite his fucked-up past, despite feeling like a shit excuse for a boyfriend, here she is—lying next to him.

Quinn sighs, brushing a lock of hair off her face. He rubs his own tired eyes and runs a hand through his hair. It's his fault they didn't sleep much last night—not that he regrets that part—but he's still exhausted. It's already 7 a.m., and he's got to get to the office. There's prep to do before he heads to Tel Aviv tomorrow. Meanwhile, Preston's team is probably finishing up an all-nighter at Langley, cataloging potential targets to brief the President's national security advisor later today.

But Quinn's distracted, replaying last night's events with Lily, wondering when he became so vulnerable to her. How did he end up thinking about whether she's forgiven him, instead of whether he can track down the most dangerous terrorists in Gaza?

He sips his coffee, watching her sleep, feeling a pull toward her that scares him. This isn't who he is. Entire terrorist networks can't bring him to his knees… but she can. How did this happen? Maybe this is why Dar always avoided personal relationships—when you love someone, you lose all sense of rationality. The hold they have on you is so damn powerful, it feels unbearable.

He takes a deep breath, stifling the panic creeping in. After a moment, he sets his mug on the nightstand and leans over, brushing her shoulder with his fingers, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

She mumbles something incoherent and shifts slightly, but otherwise doesn't wake. He smiles and tries again. This time, when her eyes flutter open, she blinks, then closes them again. "No," she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep. "Not getting up."

Quinn grins and kisses her neck.

"Mmm," she hums, slowly opening her eyes. "You're not making it easier..."

"I'm sorry," he chuckles. "But it's already after 7. On the plus side, I made you coffee."

"Mmm," she murmurs again, taking a deep breath. She pulls herself upright against the headboard, wrapping the comforter around her naked body.

Quinn hands her the mug. She takes a sip, eyes fluttering shut again as she leans back against the headboard.

"You okay?" he asks quietly.

She opens her eyes, meets his gaze for a beat, then smiles—shyly, almost self-consciously. "I—I'm okay. I still feel terrible about last night. The things I said were..." She trails off, shaking her head.

Quinn reaches out, touching her hand gently. "It's over. I said some pretty shitty things too."

She sighs and hands him the half-full mug. He sets it on the nightstand beside his. She lets the blanket drop and pulls him toward her, wrapping her arms around him, her bare skin pressing against his.

Quinn closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of her, letting himself sink into her warmth.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice low, full of regret. "I can't do this. I have to go."

"I know," she replies, voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I love you."

His heart lurches. "I love you too," he whispers into her neck, kissing it one more time.

She swallows, and reluctantly, she releases him. Her eyes are still red from last night, and he wants nothing more than to stay, to make things right. But he can't. He has a mission to prepare for, and he leaves tomorrow.

They'll have to figure out how to make this work, though, because losing her is not an option.