31. CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY

Quinlan

As if the nightmare wasn’t enough. As if listening to the horrors that Liam had gone through didn’t rip my heart in half.

As if I’m not imagining what horrors Damien must’ve suffered by Rex’s hands.

And Rome…someone’s had to have hurt him too. His obsession with food. Who did this to him?

That has to be what binds them other than their obvious love for one another. Their revenge against the world.

All that pain. It fills the room, weighing so heavily on the four of us that we’re being buried under it.

I’m an open wound. I’m bleeding all over the place.

How am I supposed to sit here and talk about Blake? How could I burden them with more hurt? Because it’ll do it, the story I’ve been keeping to myself since I was five.

It’ll do another thing. They’ll hear about my part in my family’s tragedy. They’ll see what I do every time I look in the mirror. A failure. The girl who didn’t fight hard enough to save her baby brother.

The one who let him die.

I won’t. I refuse to talk.

“I have a better idea.” My playful tone is fake as fuck. At least it doesn’t sound like pity. At least it doesn’t sound like guilt. “Why don’t you bring the file you have on me? Read me a bedtime story? Maybe then I’ll be in the mood to fill in the gaps.”

Liam’s eyes narrow.

A tsk at my side. Damien does not approve.

Good for him. I won’t disrespect Liam like this. I won’t tell them they’ve been obsessed with the idea of a woman who isn’t me at all.

“Quinlan.” Rome pries Liam’s hand off me, and Liam lets him drag me up on the bed. Rome settles himself against the headboard and pulls me between his legs, my back to his chest. To his soft T-shirt and hard muscles. “What gives you the impression you have a say in this?”

Being folded into Rome’s arms puts me in a vulnerable position. Because I want to be comforted by his warmth.

Because he slides a hand to my throat and it’s so easy for him to squeeze it. To warn me.

“I can’t. Please.”

No one knows what happened but my parents and Rex. I was ordered by both to keep it to myself. Truthfully, I never intended for anyone else to learn the truth about that night.

I still don’t. “Please don’t make me.”

“We will. But not like this.” Damien climbs into the bed, lowering to sit on his knees at our side. He pulls the covers over me. His knuckles graze my skin, and fuck, I hate that there’s so much comfort in his touch. “You won’t do it naked.”

My breath catches as he presses the covers up to my collarbone, hiding my body from them.

“This will be a clothes-on discussion,” he whispers conspiratorially.

Everyone in the room can hear him, everyone can see I’m hardly what you’d call dressed. But he pretends we’re the only people in the world. That I’m safe with this monster. With this wounded person.

I feel it.

Damien continues, handling both my hands up, closing my fingers on his to keep them in place. “You’ll have this on, as long as you’re good.”

And there he is. The real Damien. I’m not even disappointed, I just need to deflect until they forget what they asked me to begin with. This isn’t fair to Liam. This isn’t fair to me, to have all of this taken from me. They’ll never want to be with the real me. Ever.

“What’s wrong with you?” My squinted eyes are the one tool I have in my arsenal. My one mask. And I used it. “All of you?”

Damien watches the harsh frown on my face, uncharacteristically silent.

He doesn’t care that I’m mad. Or it amuses him. Probably that.

Smooth as ever, he lowers to sit on his shins. His eyes glint in the dim light filtering from behind the bookshelf.

“For everything that’s holy, what Liam went through turns me into a murderous motherfucker.” His gaze slides from Rome to Liam and then to me. “It’s a knife to the chest. Has been every day for the last twenty-four years. Your story won’t overshadow his. It won’t belittle it. And we sure as fuck won’t pity you for it. So you’re going to tell us, for the sake of—”

“Look at it as a trust exercise.” Liam’s hand is firm on my thigh. Pressing it down and pulling it to the side, over Rome’s leg. “By trust, I mean, this is the part you’re going to trust us. No more outsiders stalking you. No more files and pictures. We’re here asking to hear it from you, Quinlan. No one else. That’s how it’s going to be going forth. You’ll talk to us. Okay?”

“Gee, thanks for not being completely deranged.” My sarcasm is a defense mechanism.

Doesn’t take a genius to realize it.

Rome isn’t fooled by my tone, that’s for sure. His fingers lock tighter around my throat, reminding me he’s there. That he hears the lie in my voice. That he cares for me still.

The harsh touch cuts some of my air supply. He tips my head toward the ceiling. I can’t see what his hand necklace looks like. Can’t look at the raw, scraped knuckles.

But I’m fully aware of one thing. If he so chooses, he could crush my windpipe.

I’m not terrified of him, though. This isn’t what he’s aiming for, either. The reason I’m clutching to the covers is the fear of going down memory lane. That, and Liam’s story. I swear I can smell the smoke. A part of me is in that closet, right there next to him.

“Little flame.” His hand sears me through the covers, his voice rugged. “My past can’t hurt me anymore. The person who did it will pay. Other than that, it’s uncomfortable. It creeps up on me out of nowhere. And you make it better, you hear? You make it fucking better. Let us make things better for you. Let us offer you what no one ever has, and that’s justice for you. The police reports were falsified, I’m sure of that. Your mind was poisoned with lies, I’m sure of that too. That ends here. You will talk. You will tell us what happened.”

“You will let us make it better.” Damien leans over me, his teeth a threat on my earlobe.

“Or else?” Not an ounce of poison seeps into my words. But I don’t want to tell them. God, everything hurts.

“You’re testing our patience.” He bites me there, and I shriek. “Cute.”

“Feels like she’s playing a game.” Rome nuzzles my other cheek. “A game you’ll lose, sweetheart.”

“That’s how you’re asking me to tell you about my dead brother?” Maybe I do have a little more fight left in me. “About the worst day of my life? By taunting me? Are you really that cruel?”

“Aww, darling, pretending to hate us again?” Damien’s teeth sting worse than before. But it’s not my skin that hurts. My heart is caving in. “Here I was, thinking we were past this.” He sounds serious all of a sudden, stripped of his humor. “I thought you understood how much you mean to us.”

Frustration, hot and scalding, burns through me. Infuriating tears prickle the corners of my eyes. I snap them shut while Rome still holds me. “You can’t make me.”

“Oh, but we will.” Rome tugs my body to his chest, his scruff on my cheek sparking every nerve ending on my body. “We aren’t that man you were talking about earlier. We’ll never be him.”

“Nothing’s sweet about us.” Liam’s hand trails up my thigh. “We won’t be moving to the suburbs with you. Won’t let you keep playing the martyr part. Rex wouldn’t approve, and guess what? We. Don’t. Care.”

I gasp. Every conversation I had, every interaction, they heard all of them.

“You weren’t even looking for that man, were you?” Damien stares at me, smug and possessive.

“No.” What’s the point of denying? What’s the point of anything anymore? “I was busy and—”

“They were boring,” Liam deadpans. “The men who dared to come close. Bland. Unfit. We’re the right men for you. We’ll take your pain away.”

“Carry it with you.” A tiny part of Damien’s harshness thaws. He’s quick to hide his soft side, planting a kiss to my cheek.

A kiss that’s so tender, so unlike him, and that does it.

My guard falls. I’m being yanked into my past.

Chlorine and grief and agony. The helplessness, fuck, I’m so helpless.

A visceral sob rips from my throat. Another.

I let everything go.

Every. Fucking. Thing.

“That’s better.” Rome’s grip on me loosens. “Break for us, sweetheart.”

“We’ll build you up again,” Damien says against my skin. Another sob and a fresh wave of tears rush out of me. “Stitch you back together. The way we should’ve a long time ago. We’re here.”

“I’m not your rag doll,” I hiss. Sounds kind of pathetic when I say it through my tears. I have nothing left, though. Nothing at all.

“You’re ours. That’s the beginning and end of it.” Liam presses two fingers to my center, making it hurt. Making me gasp. “Your soft parts. The hardened ones. The scars around your heart. When you cry in your dreams, little flame, it’s our tears you’re crying.”

“When you come in them.” Damien’s fingers are firm on my chin, making sure my eyes remain on him. Grounding me. “That’s ours too. Even your breaths belong to us.”

There’s no time to linger on his statement. On what it means. I’m too shaken.

He opens his mouth and I’m thirsty for his words. “You’ve always been ours. I’ve been around you for years. Not five. Since you were born. You always belonged here.” He flattens a hand over his chest. Over his heart. “Always.”

After long minutes of poking, of probing—of telling me in their twisted way that I’m safe here—I collapse completely. My heart is torn in half, the pain I’ve been holding on to spilling out. The gash is too big to hold anything back.

“Where were you, then?”

The little girl who had no one to lean on when it truly mattered, she’s the one who’s crying. Who’s screaming. Not me. It can’t be me. I’m a strong woman. I have my shit together.

Silence. Damien snaps his lips shut, hurt flashing behind his eyes.

“You said you have been stalking me since I was born.”

Rome clenches his fingers on me. Liam’s fingers move to my thigh.

“Go on,” Damien grits.

He isn’t mocking me. None of them does.

This is their psychotic way of telling me they’re here to hear me scream. Here to let me be anything and anyone.

They demand it. That I finally break and roar like I should’ve done years ago.

Even if it’s my fault. Even if I brought this on our family. I still blame Damien. He lets me, and I need it. I’ll die without this meltdown.

“You’re the world’s worst fucking stalker, Damien.” My fingers tremble around the covers. It seems wrong to keep them there. Too constricting. Like this shield will limit my outburst. “Where were you when I needed you? When he needed you?”

Freefalling. I’m free falling. Letting go and trusting they’ll catch me.

Scratch that. I don’t let go. I dive into the pits of my damaged soul. I bare myself to them, shoving the covers down, hiding Rome’s arm around my middle.

I’m losing it. I’m losing it, and it’s fine. I have Damien’s bite marks on me. I have strong hands and arms on me. I’m safe, and if they hate me after this—fuck, that’s fine. I can’t hold it in anymore. I just can’t.

“Where were you the day my parents thought it was such a great goddamn idea to leave Blake and me at the pool by ourselves?” Where Dad worked, where it’d been fun and safe up until it wasn’t. “Nowhere. You were nowhere. No one was. No one cared, you included.”

The pool was closed to the public in the evenings. Dad was a lifeguard, so he could go in anytime. Hanging in the cool waters with our parents on hot summer nights was a treat. That’s what I remember. Fun, just fun.

Clear blue pool water. The scent of chlorine is sharp in my nose. Pool lights illuminate the depths beneath me. My five-year-old body is secured in a pink flamingo float. I was old enough to get to swim in the ring one. I loved kicking my feet in the water.

Thirteen-months-old Blake was sprawled inside a turtle floatie at my side. His adorable laugh echoed all around us. He laughed harder when I’d splash a few droplets at him.

He was the cutest little thing.

“ We’ll be right back, kids. ” I mimic my mother’s voice. Her intoxicated voice. “ Look after your brother, Quinlan. ”

Rome growls. Damien’s fingers dive into my hair, and Liam holds me as if I might disappear. I won’t. There’s no turning away from this, now that it’s everywhere. I can’t lock it back anymore.

“They left us. They disappeared into lifeguards’ changing rooms for grown up time. To fuck, I know that now. And I… I-I was alone. You weren’t there, Damien.” My tears are hot rivers running down my cheeks. Down my chin. Over Rome’s hand and down to my chest and breasts. “You said you stalked me and what? Where were you? Where were you? Where. The. Fuck. Were. You? What was more important than making sure Blake doesn’t roll off his floatie and drown?”

Daggers. I’m throwing daggers at Damien, at the three of them. This is wrong. This is fucked up. They were just kids themselves. They had their own shit to deal with.

They couldn’t have been there for me 24/7.

I can’t stop.

It’s not them I’m blaming. Not really. It’s myself.

The men’s eyes remain on mine. Rome is behind me, but he’s watching me. I can sense it despite how hard I’m crying. How vivid the memory is.

“ They weren’t there.” My eyes jump between Liam and Damien. Rome finally loosens his grip enough for me to turn and face him. “Why? Why? I couldn’t save him, and I tried so hard. I really tried. I swear I did.”

“I’m sorry.” Liam goes first. With his eyes never leaving mine, he crawls between my legs. Drives a hand into my hair, and Rome moves back to let him. “I’m sorry we weren’t there.”

Tremors ripple through my body. The water in the pool rippled too, when I kicked and paddled with my tiny arms, desperate to be freed from my floatie. I had to get to Blake.

Tiny bubbles signaled the end of his life. He was tiny.

He couldn’t swim.

Small and helpless.

Younger than Liam when the fire licked at his skin.

Too young to die.

“You shouldn’t be, Liam.” More sobs. Guilt overwhelms me and it’s hard to breathe. “I didn’t mean to blame you. Any of you. I’m sorry. So sorry. This shouldn’t have happened, but it wasn’t your fault. It’s mine. I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, too.” A voice behind me. The sound vibrates through me. Rome’s heartbeats are strong and steady against my back. “Someone should’ve been there, damn it. You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry we weren’t that someone for you.”

As he holds me tighter, my thoughts go to his knuckles. To him. To the fully stocked pantry and fridge. It isn’t really food. It’s his safety blanket.

And he’s here, apologizing to me. “Rome…”

“I failed you,” Damien chokes out, his expression pure agony. I’m being ripped out of Rome’s grip by my shoulders, and Damien manhandles me until I’m in his lap. “They had nothing to do with it. I failed you. I slept in a comfortable bed that night and many after that. I wasn’t there. I didn’t look as close as I should’ve. I should’ve been there that day. I should’ve been there always. I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly sorry, for believing that Rex didn’t hurt you because he didn’t use you as his punching bag.”

I’ll go back to that later. Ask him to elaborate. When I’m not hanging on to Damien’s neck for dear life. When he’s not apologizing for something he shouldn’t be.

This mean, arrogant man looks like he loathes himself.

He isn’t angry with me. Doesn’t look like he thinks I’m the reason Blake is dead. Neither of them does.

They hurt, and that, too, is my fault.

“You shouldn’t have been there.” My hands drift to his face. Cup his cheeks, memorizing his skin like the touch itself could save me. “You deserved that warm bed. Good night’s sleep. You deserve all of it, Damien. You shouldn’t have been anywhere but where you were safe.”

The strong woman that disappeared earlier resurfaces. For Damien. For the three of them. I can be her again. I am her. I’ll be that person for them, catch them if they ever fall. I’m even stronger now that I have them.

“Quinlan—”

“No, Damien. You should’ve been where it’s safe,” I repeat, injecting finality to my words.

Damien covers my cheeks in his large hands, pulling me to him. I feel his thumb on my tattoo. I feel his heart beating for me.

It does something else—his unhinged, caring heart. It forces me to recognize what really happened that night. To see past the warped truth Rex has been feeding me. That there were more people responsible for Blake’s death.

“My parents failed us. They were…” Sigh. “Reckless. They should’ve never left us by ourselves.” This is the first time I’ve accused them . I’ve been busy blaming myself and taking care of them. Holding everything together and just…surviving. “I should’ve…fuck.”

My lips quiver, and Damien captures the bottom one. He sinks his teeth into it until I can breathe again, his sapphire eyes burrowing into me. I’m here , they say. You’re not alone .

“I was stuck.” I want to scream, but I settle for whispering. For using Damien by asking him to take it from me. “I was terrified and shocked, and I couldn’t wriggle out of the float. Couldn’t jump in the pool to save Blake. I didn’t scream loud enough. It’s my fault. That’s why we didn’t tell the police the truth. So they wouldn’t take me and my parents to jail. But they should’ve. He’s dead b-bec-because of me.”

“Shut up,” Liam warns, his command a whip. His hand closes so hard around the back of my neck. There’s no kindness in it. “Don’t you dare repeat that, Quinlan.”

“Ever.” Damien seethes, his mouth close to mine. His gaze is as hard as diamonds. “This is the first and last time you’ve said it. Understood?”

A hand on my hip. Hurting me. Grounding me. “If the answer is no, I swear to God…” Rome’s voice is choked. “I’ll go over to your parents’ home by myself. I’ll kill them for being the reason you keep torturing yourself.”

If only it could’ve been that easy. Smothering the guilt like you blow out a candle.

Except it’s been eighteen years of self-loathing. Of being alone, without any real support. With my older half-brother who’s been giving me the feeling that yes, I’ll always have something to make up for.

I had to stay behind to take care of them. Until I couldn’t.

And through it all, even when I lived on my own, I was still manipulated by Rex.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m no less guilty of not fighting harder to break free. To get to Blake.

I’m guilty. I am.

“I was supposed to save my brother. Me.”

Damien growls. Rome’s hand comes up to my arm, his hold punishing.

“We shared everything, Blake and I. Hair color. Eye color. Bedroom. We even liked the same big, fluffy dolls. I was there. I should’ve saved him. And I failed.”

I’m a shell of a person. The only thing I have in me are my apologies. This is my burden. My fault. No one else’s other than my parents and me.

“I’m sorry, Damien.”

“Stop it.” He swipes my tears with his thumbs. He’s so serious, almost sounding as grave as Rome is.

“I’m sorry, Liam.”

One of them hauls me out of Damien’s lap. I collide into a wall made of hard ridges and it knocks the air out of me.

My eyes collide with dark, stormy ones. “I’m sorry, Rome. So sorry. Please don’t kill my parents. I’m so sorry.”