“What?!”
I burst into laughter. “I’m kidding! Would you relax? We watched some cartoon movie that now makes me wish I had a snowman of my own, and I read her Cinderella three times before she finally passed out.”
He remained silent long enough for me to question my decision to joke around. When he finally spoke again, it wasn’t what I’d been expecting to hear.
“I never thanked you for watching Sophia for me. I know you acted like it wasn’t big deal for you, but it means a lot to me that you’d put your plans on hold for the night to babysit her at the drop of a hat.”
For a man of few words, he sure was good at talking when he wanted to be. And seeing as our relationship started off with him pretending I didn’t exist, hearing him say something like that felt really, really nice.
“She’s a great kid,” I said softly, pulling my knees up and hugging them to my chest. “You’re doing well with her, Quinn. It might not feel like it sometimes, but you’re a great dad. She adores you.”
He spoke just as quietly as I just had when he said, “I can’t tell you how much it means to hear that. Sometimes I worry that I’m screwing everything up.”
Unable to sit still as Quinn opened himself up to me, showing me a new side of him I’d never seen before, I stood from the couch and began walking aimlessly. “I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true. I work with children enough to know when they’ve got it good at home and when they don’t. You’d be shocked how many parents are checked out of their own kid’s life. You’re doing the best you can, Quinn. It shows.”
My words ended just as I my feet stopped moving. Right in front of his bedroom door. The door was opened just a crack and, for some reason, my curiosity was peaked.
“Thanks.” His voice was gruff, but I knew he was being sincere.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, just as my fingers reached out of their own accord and pushed the door open a bit more.
“Well, I should probably let you get some sleep. I know Soph’s probably worn you out.”
I was hit with a wave of regret, not wanting the conversation to end, and the intensity of it was startling. “Yeah. Good night.”
“Night, Lilly.”
“Be safe.”
He hung up without another word, and my curiosity finally got the best of me. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, I stepped quietly into Quinn’s room.
The masculinity of the room didn’t surprise me. Quinn was the very definition of masculine so the dark espresso finish of the wooden headboard and matching bedside tables and dresser fit. It was the cleanliness that was shocking. The bed was made perfectly. The navy and gray chevron-patterned comforter was tucked in around the sides and covered the pillows with almost military precision. I bet I could bounce a quarter off it if I weren’t concerned with leaving wrinkles.
The only thing on the dark hardwood floors was a pale gray throw rug, no clothing strewn about, no miscellaneous socks or shoes, nothing. With the exception of some pocket change and a couple folded receipts on the dresser, there wasn’t even any clutter. I was sure that if I scoped out his closet, it would have been organized to precision. Not that I was going to do that. I was already invading his privacy enough as it was, I refused to cross the line further by going through his closet or rummaging through his medicine cabinet.
The only personal effect in the entire room was one single picture frame that sat on the far nightstand. My feet carried me around the foot of the bed, and when I saw the picture of the blonde woman smiling over her shoulder at a laughing Quinn, my heart stopped. Addison. Quinn’s wife. She was remarkably beautiful, and the smile stretching across her face made it clear she loved her life. But it was Quinn’s expression that made my chest ache. I picked up the frame and brought it closer to my face. I don’t think I’d ever seen him looking so happy and carefree. It was like looking at a totally different person. The Quinn I knew now was just a shadow of the Quinn captured in the snapshot I was holding in my hands. And that realization gutted me.
Setting the picture back where I found it, I couldn’t help but think how sad it was that he’d lost so much at such a young age, so much that it changed him into someone else. I hated that for him. I wanted to fix it.
But before I could let my worry over his wellbeing take over, the sound of Sophia’s screams from down the hall had me running out of the room as fast as I possibly could.
“Daddy!” Sophia screamed at the same time I grabbed hold of the doorframe, sliding around on my sock-clad feet and almost falling before I finally made it into her room.
Her face was pale, her blue eyes wide and shining like crazy as she sat in her bed, panting heavily.
“Hey, hey,” I cooed, rushing to her and dropping to my knees at the side of her bed. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might come through my breastbone as she grabbed the sleeves of my sweater and pulled until I was sitting on the mattress next to her.
“I had a bad dream.” Her voice shook as she laid her head on my lap. My fingers found her hair and I slowly started sliding them down in the hopes of soothing her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, as I lifted my legs and rested back against the headboard, stretching out along the length of her little girl bed. She shook her head against my legs and burrowed closer.
“No. It scared me. I don’t wanna be scared again.”
A memory from my childhood pushed its way to the forefront of my mind; one of those memories my father wanted me to hold on to. “You know, when I was a little girl, my dad used to lay with me and sing me a song any time I had a bad dream. He said it was a special song that would keep all the scary thoughts away. Would you like me to sing it to you?”
“Uh huh.”
I settled further into the bed and started to sing Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide,” just like my father did countless times. I didn’t hold a candle to Stevie Nicks’ sultry voice, but that didn’t stop me from giving it my all. I remembered how that song would chase away the monsters every time Dad sang it to me, and I wanted to give Sophia that very same comfort.
By the time I finished singing, she was asleep, breathing deep and steady as I ran my fingers through her soft hair. I continued to hum the tune, taking the very same comfort I’d just offered her from the memory of my father. I must have eventually dozed, because the next thing I knew, I was startled awake by Quinn’s low, gravelly voice.
“What are you doing?”
My eyes flicked open and it took a second for me to get my bearings and remember where I was. Sunlight was streaming through the slats of the blinds on Sophia’s bedroom window, lighting everything in a pretty combination of pink and orange. Quinn was standing in the doorway, his face completely blank and unreadable, thick arms crossed over his broad chest. If I wasn’t still half asleep, I probably would have drooled at the sight of him in his navy work uniform.
“Hey,” I spoke, my voice raspy from sleep as I lifted my right arm that was resting around Sophia’s and carefully pulled my left from beneath her body, mindful not to wake her. “You’re home. What time is it?”
“7:15.” It was the short, choppy way he answered that put me on alert. As I stood from the bed and made my way to the door, I noticed the air was almost static. I’d been wrong. Quinn’s face wasn’t blank. The closer I got, I realized something had seriously pissed him off. I just had no idea what.
“You okay?”
“You haven’t answered my question. What the hell are you doing?”
With a quick glance behind me to confirm Quinn hadn’t woken Sophia, I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway, closing the door behind us so as not to disturb her.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice still a whisper as we moved a few feet from the door. It was when I finally registered my hand on Quinn’s arm that I realized his entire body was strung tight.
“Why were you in her
bed?”
My forehead wrinkled as my eyebrows dipped in a V. “She had a pretty bad nightmare last night, and didn’t want me to leave. I held her until she fell back asleep, and I must have dozed off.”
“She has a nightmare, you stay with her until she’s asleep, then you get the hell up and leave. You don’t sleep in there with her.”
My jaw dropped as I tried to figure out what was going on. “Quinn, I—”
“You’re not her fucking mother, so don’t pretend to be. First, it was cleaning up after the party like it was your job, now this? You couldn’t replace Addy if you tried, so don’t. Fucking. Try,” he barked out angrily. His words forced me to jerk back like he’d just hit me, and in a way, I guess he had, because I certainly felt what he’d said like a physical blow.
“I wasn’t…” I started, but the lump forming in my throat blocked what I was trying to say. Swallowing painfully, I tried once more. “I’d never try to do that…”
He let out a sarcastic laugh as he dropped his arms and rested his hands on his hips. The new stance didn’t make him any less threatening, and as I stared at him, my nose burned and my eyes began to sting. “Could have fooled me. Looked like you were trying pretty fucking hard to cozy up to my daughter in there. You’re her dance teacher, that’s it. Don’t try and be something more, you’ll just be disappointed when you can’t live up to the real thing.”
I had to take a step back with each word as they hit me, over and over, each hurting worse than the last.
“Wow,” I breathed, it was the only word I was able to say for several seconds as I fought to keep from crying. Quinn had just flayed me open without missing a beat. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see me cry. For every step forward I think we’ve taken, he did something so callous, so mean, we take at least thirty steps back. And standing in front of him just then, having just taken the brunt of yet another mood swing, I wondered why I even wanted to be friends with this man. There hadn’t been someone in my life who made me feel so low since I was a kid, picked on for being a little different.
“Glad to know that’s how little you think of me. I’ll be sure not to forget that.” I stomped into the living room, picking up my shoes, lifting the overnight bag I had onto my shoulder, and grabbing my purse from the coffee table. I wasn’t going to wait the extra seconds it would take to slide my feet in and lace them up. Fuck that, I was getting out of there.
I stopped just long enough to look at him over my shoulder and say, “You know, I get that you’re hurting, I do. And I’m sorry for everything you lost. But that pain doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole to every person in your life. You don’t hold the fucking monopoly on suffering, Quinn, but if you want to spend the rest of your life miserable and alone, have at it. I’m done trying to help someone who’d rather hurt the people who care about him than try and feel better.”
I wanted to slam the door, take my anger and pain out physically, but I wasn’t willing to risk Sophia overhearing and possibly getting upset. No matter how much of an asshole her father was, I still cared deeply for her. So I shut the door quietly and walked as fast as I could to my car, tossing my stuff over to the passenger side. From the corner of my eye, I saw the front door open as Quinn’s large frame filled the doorway, but I wouldn’t let myself look.
Putting the car in reverse, I pulled out of the driveway and took myself back to my apartment. It wasn’t until I made it to my bathroom and got the shower running that I finally allowed what he said to fully register. As I stood beneath the hot spray, I let myself feel each wound he inflicted with his words. Then I cried. I gave myself until the water ran cold to let it all out. Because he wasn’t worth more than fifteen minutes of my time.
15
Quinn
It took way too goddamned long for my feet to become unstuck from the floor, but once they did, and I rushed to the front door, it was too late. Her car was gone, and I was left with a sense I’d just screwed up something amazing.
God, I was such a fucking asshole.
As soon as the words left I mouth I regretted them. I wish I could have taken them back, erased the pain I caused to fill her beautiful eyes. But I couldn’t.
Falling to the couch, I dropped my head in my hands and worked on breathing deep. I hadn’t had a panic attack in over a year. Yes, the nightmares from that night still plagued me, but I’d been stupid enough to think I was making some sort of progress. If that had been true, I wouldn’t be sitting in my living room, a cold sweat coating every inch of my body as my heart threatened to pound right out of my chest.
I inhaled through my nose and slowly exhaled through my lips while I counted silently in my head. That was the only goddamned thing that joke of a shrink taught me. A year of talking about my feelings from that night, and all I came out of it with was knowing how to stave off a panic attack once I felt it coming on.
I knew it wasn’t going to do me any good, but the department in Seattle wouldn’t let me return unless a doctor signed off. My body might have healed, but they wanted to make sure my head was screwed back on straight before letting me fight fire. That was just one of the many reasons I left, came back to Pembrooke after the accident.
Without Addison, there was nothing for me in Seattle, so I figured why stick around? Her parents hated me for killing their daughter. The department was watching me like a hawk. Addy was gone. Pembrooke was the only option. At least here I had my folks to help out with Sophia. And with my dad’s reputation, I knew I wouldn’t have any problem getting on with the fire department. I expected to start feeling better.
But that never happened. The guilt of what had happened followed me from Washington to Wyoming. There was no escape for me. My carelessness had killed my wife, the love of my life. There was no chance of me being happy anywhere.
Or at least that’s what I thought. But then I met Lilly.
She made me remember how to laugh, how to find the little pleasures in day-to-day life. The guilt was still there, always would be, but when I was in her presence, I actually felt like I could breathe. Something about her soothed me, calmed the tumultuous swell of emotion that raged inside of me for the past three and a half years.
And how did I repay her? I hurt her… again.
I hated myself for how I’d acted, but stepping through that doorway and seeing her and Sophia curled up together? Well, it was like being transplanted back in time. It actually took me several seconds to realize it wasn’t Addison lying in that bed with our daughter, that I hadn’t gotten my family back. And when that realization hit, all rationale thought flew out the window.
I just… reacted.
Badly.
Because what I felt when I realized it was Lilly, not Addison, was something so disconcerting I couldn’t handle it. I liked seeing Lilly curled up with my daughter. No, that’s not right: I fucking loved it. For just a split second, I’d let myself enjoy having a woman in my house, taking care of not only Sophia, but in her own way, me as well. And I wanted that. I wanted her. And I realized then that I could never truly be just friends with Lilly.
So I did the only thing I could think of to push her away. Her parting shot was still resonating in my head several minutes later, making me feel like complete shit.
My heart rate was finally starting to return to normal by the time Sophia woke up. “Where’s Ms. Lilly?” she asked drowsily, as she rounded the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“She had to get home.” I scooped my daughter up and rested her in my lap. It was something I did with her every morning I was home. Even when she crawled out of bed, she was still only halfway awake. She’d sit with me until she woke up all the way, resting her tiny head on my chest. It was the only time during my days that I was able to push the past from my mind and live in the moment. “I heard you had a bad dream last night,” I said a few minutes later.
“Uh huh. But Ms. Lilly sang me a special song that her daddy sang to her to keep the scary thoughts awa
y.”
That knot of guilt in my stomach grew even tighter. “Yeah?” I croaked. “Did it work?”
“Yeah. It was a pretty song.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly feel any worse about myself, I was proven wrong. Shifting topic, I asked. “You want some breakfast?”
She nodded against my shoulder and mumbled, “Pancakes.”
I gave a little chuckle at her standard answer. One day I was going to have to write Bisquick a thank-you letter for their ready-made mix. Those damn bottles made me look like a culinary genius as far as Sophia was concerned.
“Knock, knock.”
I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes as my mom and dad came traipsing through my front door. Stopping by unexpectedly at least twice a week was turning into a nasty habit. When Soph and I first moved back, it was only once or twice a month. Now it was like they thought they had free rein over my private space. It wasn’t unusual for me to come home after a shift and find that Mom let herself in to clean and do laundry. Hell, the woman had even gone as far as stripping my bed and washing the sheets once a week.
And Dad was no better. Keeping beer stocked in my fridge was impossible. Apparently my house was his sanctuary when it came to watching any sporting event. The man used my cable like it was his own. I could have sworn I hadn’t signed myself up for the NFL package. Normally their spontaneous visit wouldn’t annoy me too badly, but my foul mood from my early morning fight with Lilly hadn’t gotten any better. I’d been wracking my brain all day, trying to think of what I could say to get her to forgive me for my behavior, but the best I’d come up with was I’m sorry. And something told me that wasn’t going to cut it.
“Hi sweetie,” Mom chirped, as she walked into the living room and leaned down to give me a kiss on the cheek. Several seconds later, Dad walked in behind her and, sure enough, there was a freshly opened beer in his hand.
Welcome to Pembrooke: The Complete Pembrooke Series Page 50
