Page 149 of Mark & Don't Tell

I meet her gaze, not surprised by the anger I see there. “I’m sorry for hiding it.”

“Daria, I swear I would shake you if we were in private.”

But she won’t because Quinn doesn’t like to make a scene. “I get it, you have every right to be mad or feel betrayed?—”

“Will you stop?” she snaps. “I didn’t tell you about my scent matches for years, Daria. You were never mad at me for hiding that. I don’t care that you didn’t tell me. I care that you think that my love for you has an expiration.”

I glance at the table. “I know my love life has always been chaos. I always have some type of drama going on, and you’re always there and it’s just. . . a lot to put on one friend.”

“Daria, babe, please.” Quinn squeezes my hand. “That ugly voice in your head needs to get fucked. You’re my best friend. I don’t care if you murdered someone.”

A woman a table over gasps.

“Calm your tits, I didn’t murder anyone,” I tell her.

“Yet,” Quinn says, glaring at the woman. “We’re having a private conversation. Unless you’d like to be an accessory, I suggest you mind your business.”

“Oh my god, your pack is totally rubbing off on you,” I say with a soft laugh. “I can’t believe you just told her to fuck off.”

Quinn frowns. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” I tell her with a grin.

“Whatever. Don’t change the subject, okay? I’m serious, Daria. I need you to hear me. I. Love. You. You’re my best friend, and I don’t care if you have a million breakups. I’ll always be there for you. Your feelings are not a burden, and I really wish I could find your mom and punch her.”

Her words wrap around my heart and choke the uncertainty out of me. Hating that I’ve been so emotional the last few weeks, I focus on the part that won’t bring me to tears. I tip my head to the side. “When did you get so violent?”

“I don’t know,” she confesses. “Tell me you understand.”

“Now you sound like Brady,” I tease.

She glares at me.

“Fine.” I blow out a breath. “I hear you.” And I really do. Quinn’s never given me reason to believe she’d be anything short of amazing. But my brain is messed up from years of rejection, and sometimes it feels safer to self-isolate than open up. “There’s more,” I tell her.

She releases my hand and sits back, taking a long sip of her drink before arching an eyebrow at me. “Tell me everything.”

As I tell her about Marco and watch the shock and anger on his behalf settle over her features, I realize I haven’t been alone since the day I met her. Quinn may not be blood, but she’s like a sister, and she loves Marco, despite never meeting him, simply because he’s my brother.

“You don’t even have to ask.” She cuts me off before I get to the part about needing help. “Brady can help.”

“You’re sure he’ll be up for it?”

She nods. “Brady hates stuff like this...injustice, I guess is the best word. He’ll go to battle for you.”

My chest constricts. “I used to hate him, you know. When you finally told me everything and I realized he hurt you.”

“Hurt people hurt people,” she says with a frown. “He’s been doing really good with therapy.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

She grins. “And I’m happy for you.”

We spend the next hour catching up and talking about anything and everything. Through it all, I realize how lucky I am to have a friend like Quinn.

And that realization has dread solidifying in my gut.

Everything has been going so right that it’s only a matter of time before everything goes terribly wrong. That’s just how my life goes.

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