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Through the Fire
Donna Hill
MILLS & BOON
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Through the Fire is dedicated to all of my readers new and old who fell in love with Quinn, rooted for Maxine and Nikita and wanted happiness for them all. In this final installment questions will be answered, hearts will be broken and mended, love with be lost and found, and in the end I guarantee that you will walk away totally and utterly satisfied. Thank you for taking this journey.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Quinten Parker rolled over in bed, feeling the cool, empty space beside him. Each day for the past three years he’d hoped that he’d awake and the longing, the emptiness would be over—Nikita would be beside him, curled along the length of his body.
He released a sigh, adjusted his eyes to the light of a new day. Nothing had changed. The heaviness still hung in his heart and in his loins—a sensation that hadn’t been quenched or filled by anything or anyone.
In the distance he heard his landlady, Mrs. Finch, moving around downstairs. A faint smile touched his lips. Some of the familiar things were still good. Yet, his friends Nick and Parris had repeatedly tried to convince him to move away from the place that he and Nikita had shared as man and wife. “You need to move on, start over,” they’d insisted. “Too many memories.” But the memories were all he had left. The things that kept him company when the loneliness became too much to handle.
“Daddy…I’m hungry,” came a tiny sleep-filled voice.
Quinn’s chest filled with an almost unspeakable joy as he was momentarily taken aback at seeing the tiny version of himself staring boldly back at him. He sat up in the bed, the white sheet slipping to his waist, unveiling his bare chest.
“What would you like today, buddy?”
“Pancakes!” Jamel said with a wide grin, revealing a missing front tooth.
Quinn chuckled and threw his long legs over the side of the bed. The past four weeks had been pure magic—the first big block of time he’d spent with his son. He’d tried to squeeze six years into those four weeks. Sure, he’d been to San Francisco to visit several times during the year, but he’d never had this much time, all at once, one-on-one. It was an experience he wouldn’t soon forget.
He’d learned things about himself during their time together. He learned that he was a good teacher as he helped his son figure out how to connect all the game wires to the television. He learned that he was capable of being a nurturer when he held his son at night and read to him, or bandaged a wounded knee. He learned that he still had the capacity to feel, to want to care, to want to do something for someone else, to give something of himself to another human being. He hadn’t thought Maxine would agree to his request to have Jamel spend part of the summer with him. She’d surprised him when she agreed and told him “it was time.” For that, he would always be grateful.
Quinn stood and came around the foot of the bed, swooping Jamel up from the floor and tucking him beneath his arm to delighted giggles and squirming.
“Pancakes, huh?” He pushed a finger into Jamel’s side and wiggled it, eliciting more laughter. It was music to his ears, lyrical and perfect like the chords he’d once played on the piano. But it was about to end and his life would return to what he’d grown accustomed to—trying to make it one day at a time.
Quinn spoke in quiet but decisive tones to the stewardess who’d promised to look after Jamel during the six-hour flight back to the coast.
“Please don’t worry, Mr. Parker,” she insisted, placing a comforting hand on Quinn’s hard biceps. “He’ll be fine.”
Quinn looked down at his son, who held his hand in a viselike grip, but otherwise appeared excited about his journey. “This nice lady…” He glanced at the name tag on her navy blue lapel. “…Ms. Traynor is going to take care of you on the plane, J. If you need anything, you ask her. Okay?”
Jamel nodded, his dark eyes taking in the sights around him. He stuck a lollipop in his mouth and talked around it. “I’m a big boy, Daddy,” he said with all the assurance of his six years.
Daddy. His heart fluttered for a moment as the corner of his rich mouth quirked upward into a half smile. “That you are, little man.” He rustled his tight curls.
“I’d better get him settled on board,” the stewardess said gently.
Quinn stooped down to Jamel’s eye level, bracing his thin shoulders. “I had a great time, little man.”
“Me, too.”
“Mommy
