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piano for support. Her gaze connected with his. “So am I,” she whispered.
    Quinn stepped up to her, absorbing all the available air in the room. She suddenly felt light-headed. He reached out to her, gently stroked her cheek. “What are we going to do about it?”
    She looked up at him. “Maybe stop being afraid.” Her body trembled beneath his touch.
    “How?” he asked, his soul desperately needing to hear the answer.
    “Through the fire—to the safety on the other side.”
    His very own thoughts again, he realized. “I don’t know if I can.”
    Rae took his hand in hers, and smiled tenderly. “Neither do I, Quinten Parker. Neither do I.”
    And in that instant they found themselves in an unfamiliar place, a place long forgotten—filled with promises and truths unspoken—the future.

Chapter 6
    T he studio session was in full swing. Quinn had run out of excuses for not getting there as he’d promised and finally found himself seated on the opposite side of the soundproof room, watching them do their thing. Funny how Rae had wiggled her way into his life, with him kicking and screaming all the way. The truth was, he kind of liked it. Liked the feel of being part of something, sharing, even if it was only a bit of himself. At least it was a start. Whoknows, maybe it could really turn into something if he let it.
    It all seemed so easy, too easy, Quinn mused as he absently tapped his foot and nodded his head to the beat of the band. He and Rae had fallen into a comfortable pattern of spending time together during the past two months. They’d talk on the phone, or meet for drinks in the evening, sometimes even do laundry together. He checked out some of her performances, and they hung out at some of the local spots every now and then. The only problem was, it seemed that she was always surrounded by people: the band, girlfriends, studio folks. And they all wanted to get in his business, find out what the deal was with him and Rae, when he was going to play again, write again. He didn’t even know. At times it really pissed him off. All he wanted was to be left alone, not become a source of conversation for her curious friends. But a part of him understood. He had his aloofness as a buffer against the world and she had people and her music. Hey, whatever. He wasn’t about making waves anyhow. That’s why he stayed away. This was her world, nothis anymore. And if she hadn’t practically begged him, he wouldn’t be sitting there now. But she couldn’t seem to understand that, couldn’t seem to understand what it did to him.
    He watched her do her thing behind the studio glass, directing the band, switching up on the music. He had to admire her, though, her drive and focus. In that way she was a lot like Nikita. But the similarity ended there. Rae was her own woman. She wasn’t born into privilege, hadn’t attended Ivy League schools, didn’t surround herself with people who looked down their noses at others. Rae wasn’t trying to get on the other side of the tracks to see what it was like. She lived there. She’d made her way through life on her own, without anyone’s help.
    One evening over dinner she’d told him where and how she’d grown up and even he was amazed that she’d survived.
    “There were five of us,” she said, sipping her screwdriver. “Me and four brothers.”
    “Where do you fit in?”
    “The oldest.” She laughed lightly. “And believe me, being oldest in my house had no perks, especially being the only girl.”
    “Why?”
    “My father—such that he was—believed that a woman’s role in life was to take care of the men, no questions asked. And if you did gather up the nerve to question anything, you were sure to get an ass whipping. Maybe get one just because he felt like it at the moment. Me he only beat once a month. My brothers he beat like it was a religious ritual.”
    “Damn. What about your mother? Didn’t she do anything, say anything?”
    Rae twisted her