Catching Serenity (Serenity #4)

by Eden Butler

  “Uh, no.” She looks away from me, watching the plume of smoke that rises from behind the garage. “The estate trustees say that courts will only turn over Quinn’s inheritance once he’s been sober and out of trouble with the law for a year. But when he turns twenty-five there’s nothing they can do. Until then, his behavior will determine his living allowance.”

  “I get the feeling that allowance is probably more than you and I see in a year.”

  “No doubt.” Quinn coughs from behind the garage and Autumn shakes her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose, but then looks up when Declan emerges from the house with two steaming mugs in his hand.

  “I love you,” Autumn tells him, taking the kiss he offers as she grabs a cup of coffee.

  “Me too,” I tell Declan as I take the other mug. “What, no kiss for me?” I wink when he laughs, chucking my chin with his large finger.

  Another hack from the other side of the yard and we all glance in Quinn’s direction. “He really is stupid,” Autumn starts between sips of coffee. “All the shit his folks did for him, all they sacrificed and he repays them by chain smoking, drinking and screwing tarts.”

  “McShane.” Declan frowns at Autumn when she winces, but then shrugs, waving off her. “It’s fine. Sayo’s your best mate and I doubt she gives a duff what that wanker does.”

  The frown on Declan’s face becomes more severe as that plume of smoke stretches above the garage and the coughing continues.

  “What do you mean ‘the shit his folks did for him’?” I ask Declan, bringing his attention back to me.

  Declan leans against the tree, lowering his voice. “Heart defect. He was in the hospital for most of his childhood. He was quite sickly til about ten when he got a transplant.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” Autumn offers, gripping Declan’s hand when he touches her shoulder. “The trustee told Declan he believed the O’Malley’s spent hundreds of thousands of pounds getting him a new heart.” She shrugs, moving the swing again.

  “But that arsehole spent most of his time as a kid in hospital. They’d been so worried about him getting better that they never even tried to have any more kids. They were older when he was born from what Joe says, anyway” Declan said. “Guess they just didn’t want to try again.”

  Declan straightens, folding his arms when Quinn appears from behind the garage, stretching like he doesn’t care about the glare his brother gives him. When Quinn flips Declan the bird, Declan rolls his eyes, tapping Autumn on the shoulder. “Mrs. McIntyre wants you to explain the sponsorship for the fundraiser. I’ve no buggering idea what she means.”

  “Okay.” She shrugs at me, jumping up from the swing to follow Declan inside, pausing before she leaves me to glance at Quinn, who is eyeing Georgie as if waiting for her to attack again. “Hey, don’t mention any of that stuff about Quinn, okay? Technically speaking, Declan wasn’t supposed to mention it to anyone.”.

  “No problem.” Autumn’s hair slaps against her back as she makes for the back door and I wait for Georgie as she abandons her curiosity over Quinn to investigate a lizard running under the potted plants on the other side of the pool. I’m not really eager to engage in another sarcastic battle with the lanky Irishman, myself. “Come on, Georgiana. Let’s go inside.” I whistle to the dogs and Darcy stretches, walking toward me but Georgie keeps her snout buried behind one of Mom’s plants. I whistle again, but the puppy ignores me completely. Then Quinn kneels, slipping his fingers between his lips and lets out a sharp, piercing whistle of his own, which is a little jarring, but at least gets Georgie’s attention..

  “Come. Now,” he tells her, voice sharp, and the damn dog listens. Quinn looks like he’d rather pluck out his own nails than hold the dog, but he picks her up, barely blinking as she licks his chin.

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  He shrugs, moving Georgie out of my reach when I reach for her. I cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

  He nods toward the house. “The fundraiser. It’s for the sprog?”

  “Yes, it’s for Rhea. An experimental treatment that my aunt and uncle’s insurance won’t cover.”

  “Haven’t they the cash?” He frowns, as though a middle class bank account is something done intentionally. “Is begging necessary?”

  “They aren’t begging, asshole.” I grab Georgie from him, turning quick just to get away from him. “God,” I say glaring at him, “why do you always have to be such a jerk?” Quinn only watches me, expression bored, with one eyebrow arched as though my yelling is something he’s already gotten used to. “I’ve seen you with Rhea. You like her. You make her laugh. You even manage to smile when you’re around her. But the rest of the world? You act like everyone else is the enemy.”

  “She can’t help her situation.”

  “And you think everyone else can?”

  Quinn runs his fingers through his hair, rubbing his face as he walks toward me. “I think everyone else takes advantage. She’s not like that. She’s… different.”

  “My aunt and uncle pay their taxes and aren’t trying to put anything over anyone. They have good insurance, but the insurance company has said no to the treatment because it’s not on the approved list of procedures. So they’re trying to do everything they can to save her, even if it does mean that they have to ask for help.” Georgie wiggles in my arms and I drop her to the ground, not caring if she eats the damn lizard. “It’s what any parent would do for their child, Quinn.” I think he suspects I know about his childhood but he doesn’t mention anything.

  “I didn’t… fecking hell…” he says waving me off.

  “Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Most people in this world have to actually work for a living.” I walk in front of him, blocking him from the door. “Not all of us can live off the hard work of our families.”

  “Oh and that’s what I do?”

  I grab his hand, holding his wrist firm when he tries jerking out of my touch. “These aren’t the hands of a working man. These,” I lift his wrist, “come from privilege.”

  “You done?” I drop his hand, turn to open the door but Quinn grabs the handle, making me stare back at him.

  “How much do they need?”

  “They won’t take your money. They wouldn’t even take mine and they’ve already caught on that Declan is willing to hand over his inheritance to help.” Quinn’s jaw tenses. “Your brother, Quinn, he has a good heart.” He glares at me like I’m ridiculous. “You’re both judging each other for shit neither one of you responsible for.”

  “His mum was a slag.”

  I step up, get eye level with him. “You want a broken jaw, maybe a bloody nose, say that to his face. Besides, she didn’t do a damn thing by herself.” He frowns at me hard, warning me away from the insult he thinks is coming. “Your father wasn’t innocent.”

  “How fecking much?” he asks, jaw tense as he steps up, as he stands inches from me.

  That isn’t frustration on his face. That isn’t even anger. A petty part of me thinks it would be funny to antagonize him right now, call him out again for being an asshole, but what good would that do? A few seconds of fleeting satisfaction is pointless.

  But I don’t give Quinn the answers he wants. If he wants to help, he’s going to have to do his part like everyone else. “Come to the fundraiser and you’ll find out.”

  APPARENTLY, QUINN HAS decided not to live like a monk. At least, that’s what Autumn told me when I showed up at Joe’s tonight and the Irishman wasn’t there.

  “Some girl from the art supply place asked him out for coffee.” When I frowned at her—my thoughts alternating between why the hell she thought I cared and whether ‘coffee’ meant nakedness at some point—Autumn shrugged, waving off her explanation. “More liquor for us.”

  “I can’t get drunk, friend. I have to be at the hospital early tomorrow.”

  “It’ll be fine. Besides, if you get too shitty, you can just stay here. We’ll kick Quinn
out of his room and he can sleep on the sofa.”

  “No way in hell, lady. I’ve peeked in that room. It’s nasty in there.”

  But, I had an ulterior motive. Seems like I always did where Quinn was concerned. I’d already snuck into his room once before and since that day I hadn’t had a chance to go snooping again. When he wasn’t at the hospital working on project with my cousin, Quinn was here at Joe’s in that stinky room doing things, likely, that would have me turning my nose up, and whatever time he was spending at that abandoned building that Autumn had mentioned earlier wasn’t consistent enough to count on.

  Declan and Autumn hosting a Rugby Sevens watching party was the perfect opportunity to find out what Quinn was up to. Really, this was more about me uncovering whatever it was he’d been hiding yesterday when I waited outside Rhea’s room for him to leave.

  The new Ms. Marvel comic had come out yesterday afternoon, and I had taken the opportunity to pick up a copy for Rhea, as it had quickly become her favorite new series. I knew that technically it wasn’t “my time” to stop in and see her, but I knew she’d be excited, so I didn’t want to wait until the morning. That’s when I’d heard Quinn talking to Rhea through the half opened door. That’s when I’d decided more snooping was in order.

  “Can she have a red cape?” Rhea had asked him as I listened from out in the hallway.

  “Red? O’course, love. Red, purple, bloody pink if you’d like.”

  “I don’t want pink. I want red.”

  “No pink?”

  “Nah… unless… do you like pink?”

  “Well, sometimes…”

  “What about Doctor C? Can we make him really mean looking?”

  “Of course, love. Meanest villain ever drawn.”

  It was then that I couldn’t help myself. Quinn was working on something for Rhea. Something that meant a lot to her, that much I could tell from the tone of her voice. And when I inched toward the opening in the door for a peek at them, my chest tightened at what I saw, and I couldn’t help but break into a smile.

  Quinn sat with his back to the door, right next to the lamp on the bedside table and Rhea next to him, her legs dangling from the bed. They both focused on the sketchpad in his hand and the quick movement his fingers made with a charcoal pencil. He drew lines that were thin, forming something remarkable, bringing to life a character that looked like Rhea, one that gave her power and strength.

  She soared. She flew and there was nothing tying her to that hospital bed, nothing keeping her ill, nothing that sunk in her cheeks or paled her skin. In one picture, Quinn had drawn Rhea as she wanted to be—he’d drawn her strong, fearless, he’d drawn her as a champion.

  It was only when I stepped back, when I cleared my throat and knocked on the door that either of them seemed to know I’d stopped by. As predicted, the second I walked into the room, Quinn closed his sketch book and adopted that evasive, disconnected attitude he seemed to reserve for anyone who wasn’t Rhea.

  “So what are you guys up to?” I’d asked, wondering if Quinn would let me get a better look at the sketch, but he hurried to excuse himself from the room, giving me the time with Rhea I’d wanted without even a frown over his shoulder in my direction, even though I had protested that I was only there to drop off the comic book.

  It was then I got it: Quinn O’Malley didn’t want anyone to see him being sweet, because that meant he would be vulnerable. Instead, he expressed himself, his feelings in that sketch book, I’d seen that much in the brief glances I’d stolen in his room. His point of view was in every line, every curve of his pencil and he hid them all away from the world, away from anyone who might disagree with him. Anyone who might judge him. Rhea wouldn’t do that. She was still a kid. She hadn’t learned about judging others. She hadn’t learned about differences. To her, we were all the same and everything was worthy of friendship.

  It was then I resolved to understand Quinn better. I wanted to know what he saw. I wanted to know what he’d shown my little cousin. I wanted a glimpse into the world he hid from everyone else.

  The day before, I’d been convinced Quinn was putting on an act. I’d been convinced that what he showed the world was a mask—the disguise he wore because he didn’t want anyone to see the real him beneath it. That’s where my thoughts had gone when I left Rhea’s room. That’s what occupied them as I made my way to the parking garage, huddling against the late October wind as it whipped across my face. It was Quinn and the façade he wore that kept me distracted so that I didn’t pay attention to the footsteps that echoed behind me as I walked up to my car.

  It wasn’t until I was unlocking my Jetta that I heard a low breath right behind me. Defensively, my elbow went up and out, and Quinn, who had slipped up way too close sucked in a breath, leaning against my car, holding his stomach.

  “Sodding bollocks,” he’d said, groaning as I stepped back. He rested his forehead on his arm, breath rough, labored as he moved his head to bring his gaze to me. “What the fecking hell…”

  “Don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone in a damn parking garage?”

  “I bleeding well do now.”

  I gave him the pause he needed, but still kept my keys in my hand. I’d seen a glimpse at his softer side. That didn’t mean I’d let my guard down around him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I wanted…” he grunted, clearing his throat as he straightened, as though the pain in his stomach still smarted. Damn. Didn’t realize how bony my elbows were. “I wanted to know,” he said again, “what the hell you were doing lurking in the hallway.” He stepped forward, that ever-present glare making him look less and less like he’d just got jabbed in the gut. “What are you on about?”

  It would have been easy to goad him, to lie because he expected it. But I had convinced myself that I wanted answers. If I could get them from him, then there’d be no need for me to go snooping again. I knew that would probably be like expecting to win the Lotto without even buying a ticket, but I still gave it a shot.

  Quinn stood in front of me, his back and shoulders rigid and straight. He looked very much like he expected a fight. He didn’t move his body when I stepped forward, when I tilted my head, narrowing my gaze to really look at his face, examine those highborn features. He remained cool and didn’t flinch until I spoke.

  “I don’t buy the bullshit, not like everyone else does.”

  There wasn’t surprise, exactly, on his face, but his eyebrow did lift even as his frown relaxed. “You’ve no bleeding clue about me. None of you.” Quinn laughed, once, bitter. “You lot think you know me, but you don’t, do you? None of you…”

  “You’re good to Rhea.” That quieted him, but it also made him nervous, had him taking a step away from me. “You’re sweet to her. You speak to her with a kindness that no one else gets. Why is that?”

  “No one else deserves it.”

  I licked my lips, continuing to look at him, see how close to the edge I could take him before he walked away. That seemed to be Quinn’s M.O. He jetted when things got to be too much. Still, I went for it anyway, my curiosity greater than my worry that he’d turn his back on me. “You relate to her, I get that.”

  He dropped his arms, letting them hang at his side. “What?”

  Several cars passed us; their taillights blinking colors over Quinn’s face. Still he remained motionless, shocked, but unflinching. “I… I know about your childhood. I know that you…”

  In a second his calm fractured and for the first time, I saw something real from Quinn O’Malley. Two quick steps and we were nearly nose to nose. “Fraser and his woman need to keep their fecking mouths shut.” I suppose he thought his height, the reach of his shoulders would somehow intimidate me. It didn’t. I’d grown up around rugby players my entire life. I was small, but I wasn’t skittish.

  “They didn’t tell me,” I lie. “I… I found out… another way.” He glares at me, opened his mouth as though there was another insult q
ueuing up to level at me. I stopped it before it came. “It doesn’t matter. You know what Rhea’s going through. You know what it’s like to be stuck in a hospital, to be poked and prodded.” Quinn worked his jaw, teeth grinding together and the anger brimmed close to the surface, pulling the muscles of his face tight. His nostrils flared and the top of his cheek twitched, but still, I continued, now too curious with what my accusations would force him to say. “You understand what she’s going through and so you are nice to her, but why just her, Quinn? Why not everyone?”

  “Because…” his voice was rough, as though the rage bubbling in his gut threatened to burst free. “Because she’s the only one…”

  “Everyone is struggling with something, Quinn.” He stepped back, but I grabbed his arm, pulling him toward me. “Every single one of us.”

  “Bollocks.” Quinn jerked from my touch, but didn’t leave. “You’re full of shite, the lot of you…”

  “You have no reason to be angry.” He stepped closer. “You lost your parents…”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Autumn, Declan, they both lost their moms.”

  That brimming anger surfaced, and he slammed his fist onto the trunk of my car. “They bloody well have each other; they have all of you…”

  “You could too.” My voice carried, lifted above the noise of engines and braking cars and the thump of his fist against my car. Quinn looked at me as though he didn’t quite catch what I had said. Eyes blinking, his mouth opened, slowly. I took the advantage, wondering what he’d do if I kept at him, wondering if he’d show me a small peek of what Rhea saw every day. “We aren’t hard people to get along with. We aren’t closed off, none of us. You open up to us a little and maybe you won’t be so miserable.”

  “I don’t need anyone. Not a fecking soul.”

  “Is that how you get through the day? Lying to yourself?” When his top lip curled, I shook my head. “How’s that working out for you?”