jail.
And Quinn would be getting her life back. Harvard wanted to make up for what she’d been through, so she’d gone.
They’d paraded her around and had a luncheon in her honor. Everyone had publicly apologized for how she’d been treated, including Peter.
They’d offered her job back as a full-tenured professor. All her research projects would be reinstated; she’d never have to set foot in another classroom again. She could publish, have an esteemed career, and be at the forefront of her field.
They were willing to move all her stuff and offered her a stipend as she got reestablished in Cambridge.
Even though she hadn’t been able to say much because of the damage to her vocal cords from the noose Ramford had tried to kill her with—honestly, her hoarse voice added to the excitement of the people around her on campus—it had been the most she could have possibly asked for.
And yet...
And yet here she was sitting at the bar at the Eagle’s Nest on a Sunday night.
She wasn’t sure what she was doing here, in the town or the bar. Of course, if she was going to take the job back at Harvard, she’d known she needed to come back, get the small amount of stuff she had, and say her goodbyes.
But she was back here without having given Harvard her answer. Because the entire time she’d been there, as great as the reception had been, all she could think about was Baby.
They’d been together every second since he’d held up her weight as Ramford shocked him over and over.
He’d stayed with her overnight in the hospital before she’d been released. He’d stayed with her once he’d brought her home, even when Boy Riley and Girl Riley had insisted that they wanted her to come live with them.
He’d stayed with her as she’d gone back to teach her TSC classes, because she wanted to, not because they forced her to. They’d had to provide her a microphone since the best she could do was whisper.
But word had gotten out about what had happened, and every single student had been present for every class for two weeks straight. Evidently, all someone had to do to be an effective teacher was almost die.
But she’d been glad to see her students’ faces. Glad that so many of them had cared enough to wait to talk with her after class to provide their well wishes. And a few even asked questions about the subject matter.
She liked teaching. Even without the almost dying appeal, she was a good teacher. The thought of losing that, even knowing she’d be catapulting her career to new academic heights with the changes Harvard was offering her, was unsettling.
But not as unsettling as the thought of leaving Baby behind. They’d definitely spent more than their fair share of time over the past two weeks in bed together, or in the shower together, or one time with her bent over his toolbox in the garage for a quickie. And as much as she loved it, as much as she’d lost control with him over and over in the way she’d never done before, that wouldn’t be what she missed the most.
Watching him—after only three sessions with Charlie focusing on his dyslexia, realizing that he really was going to be able to battle this effectively—had filled her heart near to bursting.
He was so amazingly smart. She’d known that already, of course, but he hadn’t.
Those college classes he’d been dreading weren’t going to be a problem for him. Seeing him fully embrace that knowledge was worth more to her than all the fantastic sex they could ever have.
Or, maybe not more, but as much as all the sex.
Every day, for the past two weeks, they’d whispered about the future. She had no doubt he’d finish his degree, and the garage would be his. He hadn’t been surprised when the calls started coming in from Harvard, and other colleges, trying to ascertain her interest in joining their faculty.
But he’d never once mentioned a future with them together. Neither had she.
Not because she couldn’t imagine it or because she didn’t want it. Not even because she didn’t think they had strong enough feelings for one another. The feelings she had for him were never going to change. And every once in a while, she caught him staring at her in a way that made her insides go gooey.
Her. The least gooey person she’d ever known. Or had been.
But sometimes gooey feelings weren’t enough. What did