2. CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Quinlan
Twenty-three years later-present day
Late evenings are my favorite time to hang out at Maeve’s. The café where my older half-brother, Rex, works as the shift manager.
Not that I like it here, period, but he does. Says he needs to watch over his baby sister instead of having me hole up in my apartment doing who knows what.
Whatever. I compromise by visiting him in the evenings, when it’s nicer.
Quieter.
The overhead lights cast a warm glow over the old oak wood floors and the round, mostly abandoned tables. Most of its clients work in the offices in Chicago’s financial district. Most of them are already home. The café stays open late anyway.
Other than the blessed silence, Rex is nicer in the evenings. He isn’t as impatient as he is when the place is packed. He’s less than easy-going, true. That’s who he is. He’ll never be the friendly type, given our shared trauma.
Without the pressure of orders and broken mugs, though, he’s better.
He’s my only remaining sibling. He’s grumpy and controlling as well and far from perfect.
Getting a B on my math exam? “What the hell is this? You can do so much better, Quinlan.”
Failing to call him and letting him know I’m okay after a night out during my college years? “You’ll end up giving me a heart attack one of these days. Is that what you want? For me to die? You spend too much time away from your parents. You want them to be all alone, too?”
Who is perfect, anyway? No one.
I hit send on another email as I bob my head to the music. “Doll Parts” by Hole starts playing over the speakers. I like that one.
Rex clears his throat, calling for my attention. Raising a questioning eyebrow. How are you doing?
I’m good. I return a small smile and give him a thumbs up.
I shouldn’t be complaining. I won’t. We’re family. Together forever, through thick and thin.
What’s left of us.
With that in mind, I’m back to my laptop. I’m a one-woman show, running my own business as a web designer. There are a few touch-ups I need to work on for one of my newer clients, as per his email. A project I have to rush since I’m tight on time.
I’m here today to give Rex the huge news I got today. When he’s less busy. When the next customers leave, and Wayne, the only server on this shift, doesn’t need help. Eliana, the barista, is busy making coffee, so I have to wait.
Back to my laptop, I go. Minutes pass, not sure how many. When I lift my head, to my surprise, I find the place has nearly emptied up.
The coffee machine huffs and puffs as Eliana cleans it, ready to turn it off for the day. They leave one open late at night. Wayne wipes the tables around me. And there he goes, the last patron stepping out the door.
Until another one stops by, Rex will have a minute for me.
“Hey.” I wave to him. “Could you come over for a sec?”
He slumps on the chair next to mine, throwing a blue dish towel over his shoulder. Runs a hand through his thick blond hair, his brown eyes tired.
“Hey, kid.”
At twenty-three, I’m no kid. Objectively speaking, I haven’t been for a while. For Rex, I’ll forever be one.
Maybe because he’s forty-six. Which isn’t old at all. My dad is sixty-eight and he stopped calling me kid years ago.
Truth be told, he hasn’t called me anything over the past few weeks. Maybe months.
That’s beside the point. Rex is here, and if he insists on calling me kid, it’s fine. I like it less when he treats me like one. I let him do it, regardless. I feel bad for him. Guilty, even. For his constant pain and moods. For an accident I had a part in.
I do everything I can to ease his pain. Pay Mom and Dad’s bills. Go visit them in the suburbs when they don’t pick up the phone or skip their psychiatrist sessions. Rex doesn’t fight me on this.
We agreed that it would be better if I handled it since he can’t afford any of it and he can’t work on the drive over like I can.
Working myself to the bone shows. Black circles are a constant feature under my gray eyes. My sandy blonde hair lies in a messy bun on top of my head a lot, like today. My business takes up most of my time. I spend hours on end taking any job that’s been offered to me. Stick to impossible deadlines.
And it’s fine.
Developing websites is my passion. I had to speed up the process a little bit, taking courses since my junior year in high school. I graduated from college three years ago, at twenty. Opened my company a couple of months before that.
It helps my family, too, and I’m proud to be there for them. Just because my parents shut me out doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate what I’m doing for them. They love me. They’re also clinically depressed. It started eighteen years ago and it won’t let them go.
Never mind. Today is about hope.
“You said you had news when you came in?” His brown eyes that are so similar to our dad’s drill through mine. Questioning. Always questioning and skeptical.
“Yes.” I straighten up in my seat and close my laptop. I smile, even though I’m not feeling it under his intense scrutiny and hint of doubt. I’ll smile, dammit. I have good news. “I landed a big contract today. Huge. As in I could have my own apartment soon. In the next three years even, and be able to provide better treatments to Mom and Dad. That’s how much they’re offering me a year, for the next five years.”
Rex’s inquisitive glare switches to wonder. “Five years?”
“At least.” I’m glad about the positive change in him. “They said they’ll sign me up indefinitely if they’re pleased.”
Rex sits up, his chest puffed. His lips are curled up. Pride brims from him and fills up the entire café.
“I’m so proud of you.” The chair he’s been sitting on makes a scraping sound as he stands up. He grabs me by the shoulders, yanks me up, and folds me into his arms. “Congratulations. Life will be easier for you. You could hire someone to help with your responsibilities. Maybe help me retire earlier. Good job, kid.”
He’s never like this, and my heart beats louder for it. My emotions are all over the place. So much so that I ignore his retirement comment. I’m happy that he’s happy, that’s it.
“Hey, hey.” I wrangle from his hold, looking at this tall man from my five-two. “I’m only starting. And I won’t outsource taking care of Mom and Dad. I love them.”
“I know you do.” Rex smooths down the sleeves of my pleated charcoal sweater, then steps back. “It’s time you start living. Meet a boy, bring him over for me to interrogate. Move to the suburbs next to Dad. Get out of the city, you know? I should’ve never let you come here.”
“Let me?” His words slash into the cloud of happiness. “I’m an adult, Rex. I’m allowed to have my own life. Live around people my age.” Never mind that I have half a friend after Rex’s isolated me from the world. I deserve this. To live outside the feeling of constant, agonizing guilt. Even if it costs me to do this. “I visit Mom and Dad. They have everything and see their shrinks twice a week. I hired a taxi for that. A huge portion of my income. You’re being unfair.”
Rex frowns. “This isn’t what I meant. Family’s important, and anyone can hurt you here. You shouldn’t be living in the city by yourself.”
“What’s wrong with the city?” Wayne throws at him. Despite us whispering this last part, he must’ve heard.
“This isn’t a place to raise a family.” Rex narrows his gaze at him at our side. As a new wave of anger surges within him, a strange emotion passes across his face that I can’t quite place. “Away from her parents. It would be in everyone’s best interest that she moves back there.”
Wayne replies with a clipped “Okay.”
I turn to see if he’s okay. His head is bowed as he collects used stirrers and empty sugar packs. Removing himself from Rex’s impending tirade.
I’d have done the same.
On an impulse, my hand flies to the heart tattoo I have under my left eye. I keep wondering what if as my fingers caress the spot over and over.
What if Blake wouldn’t have drowned? What if I had saved him? Would Rex be less angry at the world?
Possibly.
Our family has been dealt some really shitty cards. Rex copes through anger. I cope through working myself to death.
“Anyway.” Another forced smile to appease the bristling Rex.
“Yes, anyway.” Rex’s harsh expression thaws as I move my free hand to his shoulder.
His muscles are less strained beneath the black T-shirt with Maeve’s red logo at the top left. Good. Then his eyes zoom in on my other hand and the tattoo I’m fingering.
He frowns. I drop my hand from my face in an instant.
“You’re right,” I reassure him. “This is a great thing for our family.”
“I’m glad you dropped by.” Rex puts more distance between us, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m always here for you. What’s the name of the company you signed up with? Do I know them?”
“Could be. BLF Capital.”
Rex blinks a couple of times before his eyes widen.
Same as mine did when I received the email. BLF Capital offered me the job of my dreams when I hadn’t even applied.
Last week, when I saw the wanted ad, I craved this position. Wanted to sink my teeth into it. Email them, convince them I’m the best and most competent person for the job.
Then my logical side won over. Never in a million years did I think a multi-billion financial company would take a chance on me.
Quinlan’s Designs is relatively new. Nothing like those big companies that have years of experience and an impressive portfolio. So I preferred focusing on my clients rather than wasting my time on applying for a job I would never be hired to do.
BLF Capital found me still.
“Incredible, right?” The job offer email is still fresh in my mind. I hop on my toes as excitement takes over. “Jefferson Bell, head of HR, reached out to me this morning. Said he got references and wouldn’t take no for an answer. That the heads of the company want to meet me. The owners are anonymous, but the three VPs are just as important. I’ll see them and start in a week. A week, can you believe it?”
Apparently, the owners won’t see anyone unless they absolutely have to. Kind of weird when buying, managing, then selling companies is based on trust rather than money.
I stow away the strange feeling. How they handle their company is none of my business. The company itself is well-known. There’s nothing they can do to me while I work from home.
I’m just a freelancer hired to work for them.
Everything will be great. Stressful but great. So great.
“That’s amazing.” Rex shares my enthusiasm with another awkward bear hug. He smells of coffee and sweat, two scents I’ve smelled on him my entire life. He pulls back, his expression resolute. “I gotta stay until we close. Stay until midnight so I can walk you home. You’re not good to us dead.”
Maeve, the owner, insists they close at midnight. There aren’t that many customers after seven. Almost none at all. Still, she insists.
“I’d rather get going.” My laptop goes into my shoulder bag. He has to learn that he can’t boss me around forever. “Got a lot of projects to rush through. I have to focus. Have to wrap everything up before I start with BLF.”
“So responsible. I’m proud of you, Quinlan. Call me when you get home?” The moment I quirk an eyebrow, he chuckles. “You’re not in college anymore. Call me when you can. Don’t forget to call Dad’s psychiatrist to check on his progress.”
“I will.” I throw the strap of my bag over my shoulder and leave into the night.
This job is only the beginning. A bright future lies ahead of me.
No more struggles. No more pain.
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m not walking toward it.
I’m running.