by Doyle, Dawn
“Quinn, don’t say that,” she said, squeezing my hand. She placed her other on top, the warmth of her touch increasing. “It’s not your fault she passed away.”
I dropped my head back and closed my eyes for a moment. “Not directly, no, but because she chose to keep me, she was stuck with him. She had nothing, and he used that to his advantage. He had her trapped, dependent on him, and he treated her like garbage with no family to go to for help.” I dropped my head down, unable to watch for her reaction, and unable to look at the headstone.
“That’s awful,” Kinsley whispered, sliding her arm around my shoulders.
Whenever anybody else had tried that, I’d shrugged them off, telling them not to pity me. But, with Kinsley, the sensation of being comforted was disarming. I didn’t know what the hell to do about the alien sensations swirling inside of me, spreading through my heart, my chest… My lungs burned as the air caught in my throat.
I coughed to clear it, but when I spoke, my strangled words were barely audible. “He beat her, Kinny. That bastard beat her almost every fucking day. The night she died…” I screwed my eyes shut, remembering the police coming to the door to tell us.
There was a loud bang, and my dad yelled for me. “Quinn! Get your ass out here!” He was mad, and Momma told me to stay in my room when he was mad. The banging sounded again, louder this time. “Boy, move your scrawny ass!” he roared.
I didn’t want him to come into my room. If he saw my toy, he would break it and throw it in the trash like he did with my action figures. He said they were sissy dolls, and boys didn’t play with dolls. But they weren’t. They were superheroes, and I liked them. I wanted to be a superhero when I grew up, just like the man in the blue and red suit.
I hid my toy under my pillow and turned the handle to my door, opening it just a little. I was bigger than the gold ball now. My momma said I was having a spurt, and my legs were super long.
“Yes, Daddy?” I called out, careful not to shout because he didn’t like it when I was loud.
“Answer the goddamn door,” he slurred, still in his chair. The person banged on the door again. “Now, boy, before I beat your behind!”
I ran to the door, my big toe sticking to the wood through the hole in my grey socks. They used to be white, but they were old now.
I reached up to the latch and turned it. Outside, two big men stood there, and they had uniforms on. Golden shields on their shirts said they were the police.
“Hey, kiddo, is your dad home?” the one on the right asked, and he smiled, but he still looked sad. “We’re police officers and need to talk to him.” He flicked his brown eyes up to the other officer, then stood. “This kid looks terrified, Sy.” He said it quietly, but I heard him.
I was scared. Scared that my dad would come and grab my arm again for talking at the door. I was afraid that they wanted me to go and get him.
“Son, we need you to get your father, okay?” the other officer asked. “It’s okay, little guy.”
I nodded, then I turned around to go to the living room. “Dad?” My legs were shaky, and my tummy hurt inside because I didn’t want to disturb him. He was still watching his sports and drinking his beer. I wasn’t allowed to interrupt. “There are two policemen here,” I said, standing off to the side so I could see if he was going to reach out.
“What?” he asked, tipping the brown bottle back. “Speak up. I can’t hear that pansy-ass voice of yours.”
“Policemen are here,” I said louder.
He stopped rocking in his chair and looked at me. His dark eyes were tiny as he scowled, his nose all scrunched up. “Police?”
I nodded quickly and pointed toward the front. “They said they need to speak to you and that I should get you. I did as they said because they’re police. I didn’t want to interrupt you, Dad,” I blurted out.
He got up and shoved past me, his hand gripping the top of my head, then pushing me out of his way. When I was smaller, I would fall down when he did that, but I was bigger now, and I didn’t fall.
“What the hell do you want?” my dad asked, pulling the door wider.
I peered around the white corner of the wall, holding it as I listened.
“Mr. Tenant?” the one on the right asked.
“Yeah. What’s this about?” My dad scratched his head, his hair sticking up in all directions from grabbing it when his team was losing. I hoped they didn’t lose this time. He was so mean when they did. He hurt Momma more.
“Mr. Tenant, can we come inside? This is a delicate matter.”
“No, you can’t,” my dad spat. “Whatever you’ve got to say, you can say it here.”
The policemen looked at each other, then back to my dad. “Sir, we regret to inform you that your wife was involved in an accident this evening,” he said.
My fingers tightened on the corner.
My momma was in an accident? Is she okay? Is she in the car? Does she need to see the doctor?
I craned my neck to see through the gap to see if my momma needed help, but I couldn’t see anybody.
“What do you mean, accident?” my dad spat. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Sir.” The other lifted his hand. “There was a robbery at the liquor store on Chavene. The assailants exited the store and collided with your wife as she was entering the premises.” The officer took a deep breath. “She was knocked into the path of an oncoming vehicle which was traveling over the speed limit. She died instantly, Mr. Tenant. We’re sorry for your loss.” My dad said nothing for a little while, and the officers looked at each other again. “Sir, is there anybody we can call for you? Family? Friends?”
My dad’s head lifted up. “No. There’s nobody to call, officers, now kindly get the fuck off my property.” He slammed the door while the officers were still there, then went back to his chair, pushing me to the side on his way. “That’s all I fucking need. Stupid bitch couldn’t even get my beer without causing a fucking problem for me.” He glared at me, and my pee-pee started to leak. “Get the fuck back to your room!” he screamed, throwing his arm in the air.
I ran down the hall and into my room. I closed my door and turned the tiny lock. My hands were shaking as I held my pants, warm liquid spreading over the blue material, and down my legs to the floor.
My momma had died. My momma. Dead.
“Quinn,” Kinsley whispered, resting her head on my shoulder. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” I replied, lifting my hand and brushing my fingertips over her hair. I snorted a dry laugh. “I don’t know why I told you that.” I laughed again. “I don’t even know why I brought you here. I’ve never told anybody other than Josh and his mom about that night.” And I hadn’t. Layton found out through Ginny, but it was only ever the need-to-know version.
“I’m glad you did. I can’t even begin to understand what you went through back then, or what you did to get where you are.” Her voice shook as she spoke, her light sniffles coming between breaths.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Kinny,” I said sharply. “I don’t want pity. I know what my dad did wasn’t my fault, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I won’t ask,” she replied gently, her fingers tightening in mine.
“And I don’t want you to look at me differently.” I looked down at her and waited for her to lift her head. “I’m serious, Kinny. Don’t do that. I had enough of that when I was a kid, and I don’t need anybody’s sympathy over a dad that cared more about his next drink than his wife and child.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it,” I warned.
Kinsley sat up and turned her body to face me. “Look, Quinn. I get it. My situation isn’t the same as yours—not by a long shot, but I get it, I really do. After what happened at Crosshall, I was accused of lying, even though none of it was my fault.”
My back straightened, energy surging down my spine, my arms tense, ready to fight. “Lying?”
Kinsley shrugged, her brows g
oing up with her shoulders. “People looked at me like I was dirt on the bottom of their shoe, the trash that had blown in from the street that they couldn’t get rid of fast enough.” She snarled as her eyes worked back and forth as though seeing her memories right in front of her. “Couple that with my dad getting shot on duty the year before, and I was labeled as the disturbed girl who was so distraught that she accused a guy of trying to rape her when all he was doing was trying to ask how I was and that he was there if I needed him,” she finished, bitterly. “So, yeah, I won’t treat you any differently, Quinn, because the actions of others don’t define who you are. I feel bad for you—it’s only natural—but don’t think for one minute that if you act like a dick, I’ll let you get away with it.”
“You’re fucking weird,” I said, the urge to pay Owen a visit so strong I wanted to jump on my bike and make the three-hour drive there. But I couldn’t. Our plans would be fucked up, and somebody would end up in jail… Me.
Kinsley shrugged again. “I never claimed to be normal, Quinn. I just don’t see the point of treating another person differently, unless they’ve broken the law, of course.” She laughed softly.
Oh, Kinny, just wait until you find out what I’ve done, and what I’m about to do.
She would either hate or love me for it, and I was shit scared of either of those things and worse if it were both.
Chapter 12
Kinsley
I couldn’t stop crying.
I lay on my bed, my face buried in my pillow, the scorching tears flowed and flowed for the boy who’d tragically lost his mom, his entire world, and his safe place in the blink of an eye.
I hated his father for what he’d done to them. Sick, vile thoughts ran through my mind of what I’d love to do to Roy Tenant if I ever saw him. I wanted to break him into nothing, to smash his face, to pound his skull, to let him taste what it was like to be on the receiving end of the torment he inflicted. I just hoped that wherever he was, he was miserable, desolate, and alone. Preferably in a cell getting the shit kicked out of him, but that was wishful thinking. It was safe to say I despised him more than Owen, and even the person who’d murdered my dad, and the person who’d killed my uncle. Nobody had any excuse to do what Quinn’s dad did. To his wife, to Quinn, to anybody.
Pain rippled through my stomach, my muscles bunching, contracting, and curling inward more and more. My throat burned from sobbing loudly, the cushion beneath allowing me to howl my pain as hard as I could. My hands stung from gripping so tight to my pillow to keep the sound form traveling.
I could never tell Quinn about this. I promised him I wouldn’t see him differently. I didn’t, but it didn’t stop me from bottling all of my emotions until I walked through my front door after he’d dropped me.
“Kinsley, honey, is everything okay?” my mom asked outside my door while knocking quietly. “You sound upset in there.” My door creaked as my mom opened it, the slow push in the silence making it seem louder than it was.
“I’m okay,” I choked out, sitting up. I grabbed a tissue from my nightstand to wipe my face, then blew my nose.
“Did Quinn do this?” she snapped, sitting next to me. I looked up into her concerned eyes, her mouth drawn and tight. “Did he?”
I grabbed a fresh tissue. “No, mom, he didn’t do anything.” I blew out a long breath to steady my voice, the quivering tone leveling out just a little. “He just told me something from his childhood that broke my heart.” I toyed with the white tissue in my hands, watching the fibers float as it tore. My mom was silent as she swept her hand over the back of my head.
“I know, honey,” she soothed after a moment.
My eyes snapped to hers. “How?” A guilty blush flashed across her face, and she looked around my room, avoiding eye contact. “Mom?”
“Don’t get angry,” she begged, finally turning to face me. She took my hands in hers. “I looked into him.”
Too late. I was fucking furious. I yanked my hands from hers. “You did what?” I hissed. “Why the hell would you do something like that?” My voice rose as my anger flared, my heart hammering in my chest.
“I wanted to know that the guy who was interested in you didn’t have a criminal record,” she explained.
I reared back. “You think Quinn’s a criminal?” I screeched. “Oh my God, why?”
“As a parent—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit ‘as a parent’ speech, Mom. That’s just an excuse to pry.” I swung my legs off my bed and stood. I grabbed Quinn’s black hoodie and shoved my arms through the sleeves, then zipped it up. I spun around. “When did you do this?”
“When he picked you up, the morning after that girl deserted you.”
My head fell back, and I laughed in disbelief. “Oh, so that’s why you were fine with him being here. It took, what, a week to get the file? So, between him picking me up and him coming over to study”—my cheeks warmed at the thought—“you found whatever it was you were looking for, or didn’t, in this case, so you decided he was safe?”
“It’s not like that, Kinsley, and you know it. He’s not all that he seems.”
“Then enlighten me, Mother dearest, because I sure as hell would love to know what made you change your mind so damn quick.”
“Watch your tone,” my mom snapped, pointing her finger at me. “You may be an adult, but you will show me some damn respect. You’re my daughter, I love you and will do anything to keep you safe. If that means looking into any guy that shows interest in you, then so fucking be it!”
I flinched at her words. My mom rarely lost her temper enough to curse, and when she did, it meant she was seriously pissed. “You crossed the line.”
“I did what was necessary. Do you think it was easy for me when Owen got away with his actions? Or how you were treated back home because of him? Seeing Quinn look at you the way he did, I wanted to make sure you weren’t getting involved with a psycho.”
“Whoa,” I waved my hands. “What do you mean, ‘look at me the way he did?’”
My mom deadpanned. “Like you were a breath of fresh air, and he’d been starved of oxygen.” She waved her hand around in midair. My brows dipped, and she rolled her eyes. “Honey, that guy is crazy about you. When you tried to tell me you didn’t like each other, I saw how hurt he was by that.”
He was?
“Mom, this isn’t about what we do or don’t feel about each other,” I said, desperate to get to back to the topic of her snooping. “The point is, you pried into his life, and that’s not fair.”
My mom’s eyes softened, her anger disappearing from her warm features. “What’s not fair is that nobody helped a young boy that was left alone with an abusive alcoholic. It’s not fair that nobody did anything to help a young underweight child with clothes not only two sizes too small, but so grubby that the kids made fun of him.”
“Mom, stop,” I pleaded, the tears falling again. I couldn’t bear to hear any more, but she continued.
“It’s not fair that, at the age of fourteen, his father kicked him out of the house because he wanted to sell it, leaving Quinn homeless. That child was living in fear for years, honey. The thing is, we never know how they’re going to turn out, or how they deal with what happened. You know I see cases of this in my work, Kinsley. There are those that, with help, turn out okay, but there are others that can be a ticking time-bomb with all that emotion bottled up, just waiting to go off.”
Fighting.
It made sense, and I kicked myself for not seeing it sooner. The unleashed aggression, the speed, the determination… The animal inside.
“He’s going to hate me for what you did,” I whispered, the tears welling again at the thought of Quinn looking at me the way he did when we first met, or possibly worse.
My mom reached out to me. “Kinsley—”
“No.” I held my hand up and stepped back. “Quinn’s a complicated guy, sure, but just when I think we could be more than...whatever we are, you drop this on me.”
I threw my hands down as though sending a boulder crashing to the ground. “Yeah, I do like him—more than I care to admit.” I shoved my feet into my black boots and walked toward my door. “And now that the trust is broken, it’s over.”
“He doesn’t need to know,” my mom rushed out, trying to reach for my arm, but I pulled out of her grasp.
I turned back as a single tear fell down my cheek. “Yeah, he does, Mom. And that’s why I’m going to tell him.”
“So, you’re going to throw away your happiness over this?”
I sighed, even though the truth stabbed me in the chest and twisted over and over, pulling out and going right back in, choosing a fresh space. “If it means he keeps his, then yeah. Always.”
I headed out of the house and got in my car. I had no clue what I was going to say to Quinn, or how he was going to react. All I knew was, the guy I’d fallen in love with wasn’t mine; he never was, and once I told him what my mother had done, he was never going to be.
I stood at the curb, looking up at the black-framed rectangular windows on the second floor of the white house, then down to the front door. There was no movement behind the long glass panels either side, but that meant nothing.
Quinn’s motorcycle was parked in the driveway in front of the attached garage, and as I took a few steps toward the door, I found myself veering in that direction instead.
I reached out, my fingertips sliding over the cold metal of the gas tank, along the curved edges of the silver waves, and to the black seat that was perfect for the both of us together. My throat tightened at the thought I might never get the chance to ride with him again, to hold onto him and feel his warmth as I wrapped myself around his body, my legs either side of his.
My head snapped to the sound of the door opening, a figure appearing at the top of the porch steps.
“Hey, Kinsley, what are you doing here?” Josh asked, his head tipping to the side. “Quinn didn’t say you’d be over.”
