Catching Serenity (Serenity #4) (27 page)

LAYLA IS HAPPIER
than I’ve ever seen her. Seeing her new baby, seeing the family Layla and Donovan have made together, takes away the some of the guilt I feel for all the time I missed with them as they went through their ups and downs, got married, bought a small house near Joe’s and settled in to wait out the arrival of their daughter.

I’d spent that time grieving and numbing that grief with Quinn.

But now, here with my friends again, that pain is tempered some, the ache of missing so much is eased by the sight of that beautiful baby and the joy that lights Layla from deep inside. Autumn and I leave the hospital arm and arm, impossible-to-remove smiles lingering on our faces.

“Evelyn Meara Donley,” I say, glancing at Autumn to see her chin tremble. “She’s beautiful,” I offer, my smile growing even bigger as Autumn nods.

Layla had named her daughter after Autumn’s mother and her own. Two women who had given their daughters strength, who had taught them to fight, to thrive. It was a fitting honor to give to that beautiful baby. “Have you ever seen her like that?”

“Never, and especially not with Donovan.”

We stand inside the hospital lobby, looking at the black clouds up ahead and the deluge that is covering the walk way and running down the steps. Still, neither one of us stop smiling and it’s only when Declan opens the door and we both automatically step back to avoid the spatter that those ridiculous smiles dim.

“McShane. Wait here. I’ll get the car.” Declan offers us a smile, and Quinn, who stands behind us, one glare of warning. Quinn had not spoken to anyone while we visited Layla and the baby, but I caught our friends eyeing him and that bruise on his eye.

Declan runs out into the rain as Autumn and I step beneath the awning, laughing when Vaughn races out of the door and Mollie huddles behind us.

“It’s absolutely pissing,” she says, laughing when Vaughn steps in the center of the courtyard, arms stretched, head back, catching rain on his tongue.

“Is he crazy?” Autumn asks, laughing at the heat that colors Mollie’s face.

“Yeah,” she says, moving away from us. “He damn well is.” And then she runs out into the shower, hopping on Vaughn’s back, laughing as he spins them both around and around.

“Absolutely barking,” Autumn says, but I notice that smile on her face hasn’t lessened. It won’t, not any time soon, not when our friends are happy, when the joy they feel is tangible, infectious.

To our left, Quinn stands on steps, gaze on me, watching, with an expression I cannot read. Autumn notices as well. “He’s not nearly as smug as he was in the hospital room.” Autumn glances over her shoulder at him, then turns back to me when he ignores her. “Are you responsible for the black eye?” She raises an eyebrow with the perfect rendition of a mother’s glare. One day there will be ginger kids with Declan’s attitude and Autumn’s temper. I almost feel sorry for them being exposed to that glare for the whole of their lives.

Unable to bear the weight of even that facetious glare, I turn to watch the rain again, ignoring her for a moment, then I mumble weakly, “It looks worse than it actually is.” Autumn’s tisking tongue is ridiculous and I shake my head and chuckle despite myself, silencing her lecture before it comes. “It was an accident.”

“Uh huh and that ‘put me out of my misery’ expression on his face?” Again she glances at him and I lean forward to watch him too before Autumn moves to stand in front of me. “That an accident too?”

“Friend…”

“Sayo,” she says, pulling me closer conspiratorially, “You’ve got ten minutes before Declan gets back with the car. I’m going to run to the bathroom. Be wise with your time.”

“Autumn…” but she is gone and I am left staring at Quinn, feeling stupid and silly. “What?” I throw it out as a challenge.

“I’m sorry.” Quinn steps forward, close. My back it to the wall, I have nowhere else to go.

“Don’t be.”

He leans forward, resting one hand on the wall by my head. “You were crying. You were upset and I kept at you. I turned things around.”

I shoot for indifference, shrugging, moving a step to the right when he reaches for the end of my braid. “You were being you.”

His expression changes then, twists into something unfamiliar, something tender. Truly searching rather than bating. Something that makes my stomach twist. And then Quinn reaches out, stilling me with a soft touch of his hand against my cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you at the funeral. I’m sorry I acted like you weren’t upset. I’m sorry I can’t be more…”

“You might want to keep at those buggering apologies.” Declan’s loud, startling voice breaks us apart and what I was having with Quinn was gone, replaced by his typical brooding attitude. Declan, having no idea what he had interrupted, kept up the tirade at his half-brother. “What did I say to you the first fecking day you were here?’

“How the bloody hell should I know?” Quinn steps up to Declan, shoulders back, matching his threatening stance. “You kept yammering about. Like I could keep track.”

“You wanker.” Declan grips Quinn’s collar but the younger man isn’t put off by Declan’s strength or size. “I told you to keep clear of her, of all of them. And what do you do? Especially Sayo… especially when…”

“Declan, stop, please,” I say, but am completely ignored as Declan slams his brother against the glass behind us.

“You will fecking learn, little brother. You cannot treat folk the way you have your entire life.”

“Enough!” Quinn shouts, managing to push Declan back. They both seem surprised by the movement. “You don’t fecking know me. You don’t know anything about me but what you were told. In all these months, have you once tried using a civil tongue with me? Have you once thought that maybe I am the way I fecking well am for a reason?”

Declan shakes his head, laughing. “There’s no reason to be a prick.”

“Says the man whose mum destroyed my family!”

Declan charges, grabbing Quinn again, knocking his head against the glass. “Don’t you dare say anything against my mum.”

Quinn volleys back, using his feet and thighs to keep Declan from slamming him. “It’s the fecking truth! She lied. So did he. For ages and ages. I had a brother my whole life and he never once… it bloody broke my mum. It destroyed her.”

“You think she was the only one?”

“Declan, stop.” I yell, pushing between them with my hands on Declan’s chest just as Autumn runs into the lobby. “The both of you. Maybe you both got screwed over. But time is short. God knows we’ve all learned that lesson.” I look between them, feeling some relief when the hard set on their faces isn’t quite as severe. Autumn pulls Declan back, rubbing his chest to calm him. “Quinn didn’t do a thing to me that I didn’t ask him for. He tried staying away.”

“Sayo,” Declan says, eyebrows shooting up as though he’s convinced he heard me wrong.

“I went to him, to get away from the hurt I was feeling.” I pause, glancing behind me at Quinn. “We used each other, that’s all it was.” I take a breath, knowing I was parroting the same thing he’d said that morning in my apartment. “That’s all it will ever be. But that doesn’t make him a bad person. In fact, how could he be? Rhea loved him.” Autumn releases Declan and I step to the side so that the brothers are forced to face each other. “She loved him for a reason, Declan. Maybe you can find out why. Maybe… maybe you both can start over, put the past behind you? It’s the least you can do because like it or not, you’re brothers. You’re blood.”

I turn on my heel and walk out of the hospital, leaving the two brothers to their glowering and ebbing anger. I want nothing more than some liquid numbness, but the idea of going home where my thoughts will no doubt linger on the emptiness, doesn’t sound appealing. Before I realize it, I’m already four blocks away from the hospital and heading for McKinney’s. My umbrella is flooded and swaying in the wind, and I dart forward when I see the neon in the pub’s window. Cars zip by me, flinging dirty water up from the puddles and I quicken my pace, jogging, making it to the pub just as the door slams open.

“You okay?” I hear, as I shake off my umbrella as I back into to pub, where I shed my sopping wet jacket.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, gratefully taking the bundle of paper towels offered to me. It’s only then that I look up to see who it is that has come to my rescue. “Sam.”

“Hey.” He smiles, reaching over the bar to retrieve a proper towel, smelling fresh from the dryer. It’s still warm. “Here, this will work better than those paper towels.” I let him dry me off, staring wide-eyed at his face, the strong cut of his angular jaw and those giant crystal eyes that I’d spent the better part of our short-lived relationship staring into. I’d never quite managed to figure out if they were gray or blue.

When Sam tilts his head, his smile lowering with concern, I blink, internally berating myself for gawking, and take the towel from him. “Thanks for the rescue.” Patting my face dry keeps me from seeing his expression, from letting myself linger too long on his smile.

“It’s not a problem. Here,” Sam sits me down on a stool, moving my legs so I face the bar. “How about some hot tea or cocoa? I remember you liked both with Baileys.”

So I let my ex-boyfriend ply me with Baileys-laced hot tea. I spent the next hour letting him flirt with me, joke with me, recalling all the silly things we’d done together, avoiding topics that led to our break up. By the time the door chimes with another customer, I am warm and a comfortable buzz warms my insides. Quinn O’Malley hasn’t entered my thoughts once, something that increases that soft buzz.

“Here, have another, beautiful,” Sam says, placing a cup of piping hot tea in front of me. As he walks away he touches my hand, moving his thumb across my knuckles—a gesture I realize he gives me to show affection, despite the mild buzz I have. He has a gentle smile and the touch is brief, likely not meant to be anything more than a kindness, but I didn’t miss it what he meant by it. Neither, it seems did the two men at the end of the bar.

Declan and Quinn.

Sam sets two pints in front of them, earning a nod from Declan who tips back his glass, sending a quick toast and a smile my way. Quinn, however, doesn’t touch his drink and when he stands, tossing a few bills onto the bar, he deflects Declan’s hand on his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” I hear Declan ask but what Quinn whispers to him, is too low for me to make out. Quinn is out of the door, his pint forgotten.

When I look at Declan, he can only shake his head, downing half his drink in two gulps. “I don’t know, love.” He looks out the window, wiping his mouth. “I’ve no clue what to make of him.”

Yeah,
I think.
Neither do I.

THE WAREHOUSE SEEMS
darker, danker at night, especially after a storm. Quinn hasn’t bothered with the lights or the heat. I climb the curved stairs like a woman on her way to the gallows, not sure why I am worried, having no clue why I feel guilty.

There is nothing between us.

Nothing.

We agreed. We made promises, unspoken, but sacred when this whole thing started. We wanted to forget. We wanted to not feel anything other than sensation. So why did Quinn glare at me as though I betrayed him? Why was Sam’s attention the thing that had him leaving without so much as a backward glance?

The hallway lightens the closer I get to the room, from the single flame of his barrel candle in the center of his desk. There are forgotten sheets of paper strewn there, some with half sketches, some crumpled, littered around the floor. There are empty beer bottles and the lingering scent of food, but otherwise, no signs of Quinn, that he might be here at all.

Except for the candle and the shadow behind it.

He stands in front of the window in only his unbuttoned jeans. In Quinn’s hand is an unlit cigarette and as I walk further inside, I catch sight of the lighter he flicks over and over, a nervous habit that is both soothing and irritating.

“Come to give me the toss?”

He doesn’t move his gaze from the street below and in this light I notice how defined his body is, how the muscles beneath his skin are taut with barely any fat flawing his frame.

“How can I do that, Quinn, when there was no relationship between us?”

A jerk of his head and his gaze pierces beneath the shadows. “There was a relationship between us, Sayo.” He moves away from the window and I pick up on the small stomp in his stride, the fists he makes as he stalks closer to me. “You had one with her. So did I. That’s what was between us. Her.”

The air becomes weighted, as though something dark, something thick filters through the vents. It is a sensation I know; the coil of lust and anger, the echo of desire. The hint of love. It all thickens around us, collects in the space between our bodies.

“Don’t.” I say, stopping him before he touches me. But Quinn is determined, stubborn, knows I don’t want him keeping his touch from me.

“And now… she’s gone. Now, love, so is that thing between us. Right?”

The rejection is forced. He’s telling me to leave. He’s telling me he doesn’t want me. So why do I care? It’s what I’d come to tell him. It’s what being with Sam had reminded me of.