Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“How there were phone calls that seemed to agitate you, and how you lost weight.”
“Quinn, stop…”
But she continues. “When I got older, I remembered all of this, but I didn’t really worry because it had been years by that point, and I’d heard you were doing well in Dubai. Very successful, they said.”
Yeah. I am successful. I flex my jaw. The opportunities that arose from living in a major city far exceeded any I’d find here, so…
She lowers her voice, tears in her eyes. “Madoc just told you how much he loves you.” Pain is etched across her face. “How much you’re a part of him, and you couldn’t come up with more when you’re never going to see him again?”
I blink, faltering. Madoc doesn’t need to be told. He knows I love him.
But she just shakes her head. “I thought I would love seeing you come home, but even now…”
I almost take a step closer. I want to hold her.
“Even now,” she goes on, “it’s as if we mean nothing to you when you meant so much to us.”
“Quinn…”
But she stops me. “There has been a hole in every room you weren’t in for the past eight years, and I am done,” she growls through her tears. “You’re not family anymore.”
A motorcycle engine fires to life nearby, and pain hits my eyes. She hates me.
I start for her. “Quinn—”
But she holds out her hand. “My compass,” she demands.
I open my mouth, then close it, feeling it rest against my thigh in my pants’ pocket. “I left it in Dubai.”
“Do you remember where you left it in Dubai?” she bites out as if it’s not precious to me and I don’t know where it is at all times. “Maybe discarded in the bottom of a drawer somewhere?”
I square my shoulders. “Somewhere.”
She inhales a big breath and backs away, dropping her hand. “Farrow?” she calls out.
I turn my head, seeing him straddle his bike on the other side of the driveway as she walks over to him.
I don’t know what she says to him, but she hops on the back of his bike and he hands her his helmet. They speed out of the driveway, her arms tight around him, her shirt flapping behind her.
I bow my head.
Fuck, I need alcohol.
I hear my phone ring as if it’s coming from another room. Absently, I pat my pocket, digging it out. I answer, “Hello?”
“Hi!” the realtor, Devney, replies. “Sorry for calling so late, but I wanted to catch you before you got on the plane.”
My plane. What time is it?
“We have an offer.” His cheerful voice hurts my ear. “It’s not a great one, unfortunately, but it’s all cash.”
I stare at the end of the driveway where Quinn just disappeared. “Who?”
“They wish to remain anonymous.”
Right. She doesn’t want more of my invasive opinions, no doubt.
“They’re offering—”
“Just give it to them,” I say.
“Excuse me?”
I hear the door behind me close and turn to see Noah Van der Berg slipping his T-shirt back on and digging out his keys.
“I don’t care what the offer is,” I tell Devney. “Let her have it.”
Noah climbs on his bike, setting his phone in the holder.
“O–Okay,” Devney stammers. “I’ll call them and email the paperwork to your mother.”
I hang up, not even saying goodbye, and run my fingers through my hair over and over again. I’ll feel better once I get home. To my real home and to my office and to my routine.
Far, far away from Quinn and her questions and her curious eyes and her scent. I clench my fists.
Dammit.
“Need a drink?” the kid asks.
I exhale, like air escaping a tire. He read my mind. “Is Jack’s still open out on County Road 5?”
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing or if I mean it, but the words are out before I can stop them.
“That dive right after Camp Blackhawk?” he asks. “For now.”
Fuck it. I’ve got time.
I dig in my pocket for my keys and head to my car. “I’ll drive.”
I don’t look to see if he follows. I can drink alone. I climb in my rental and start the engine before I see him approach and open the passenger’s side door.
He sits next to me, and I put on my seatbelt.
“You’re not gonna fuck me up, are you?” he asks.
I break into a laugh. A genuine one that feels fucking fantastic.
I shift into gear. “I leave for the airport in an hour.”
I don’t have time to get that drunk.
Quinn
I told Dylan and Aro not to use Farrow or Noah. Now look at me.
Farrow jacks up the speed on his motorcycle, and I tighten my arms around his narrow waist, resting my head against his back. Tears stream out of my eyes, being blown down my cheeks.
I can’t believe I did that. It could be the last time I ever see him.