Page 23 of Just My Ex

I enter in my protocols and plans into my laptop, reading over them one more time before I close it up. The planning meeting with my family was a mixed bag.

I’m still not at all comfortable with the obvious hate coming from Quinn, so there’s that to deal with. And it’s very clear my brothers aren’t exactly fans of mine since they think I missed Oliver’s wedding.

Scratch that. They’ve shown their distaste for me and my life choices for much longer than that. We’ve grown apart, us brothers, and it started when I went into the Army out of high school. Military service stripped me down to a different version of who I used to be. The rigors, the discipline, the crack-apart strategies until self is taken away and replaced by a machine. A machine that relies on its fellow troops—and no one else.

I’m glad I served. I can’t imagine not having been in the Army. It changed me for the better. There are memories that don’t fade, though. They just ooze out and manifest themselves into headaches. Insomnia. And weird quirks that I never could explain to Quinn, even though she asked me to.

Five years. We were married five years, Quinn and I. The wedding took place in the Santa Ana mountains in the time between my first deployment in Afghanistan and my second in Iran. And I thought I could keep that part of me completely separate from her. I thought I could protect her from that animal that sprang up during my military service.

I could not. And I shouldn’t have tried. I know that now.

My family and I have to work together to protect Quinn and Navie, and it helps that they love my ex-wife and daughter. Sometimes I get the distinct feeling that if they’d had to choose, they would have gone with them in the divorce instead of me.

Sebastian gave me a room in the resort, and I’m grateful for it. In all my travels with the Ostlins, I’m often staying in really high-end places, and the Tate International Resort in Longdale can compete with them.

Not that that matters.

Besides, it’s good to be here again, in my childhood haunt. The smell of the lake. That’s what gets me every time. I lived in, on, and around this lake. Unbeknownst to Stella, I was stranded for a while in the middle of it, with a brother or two, out on some shady floatation device we’d rigged up when we were kids.

Sebastian didn’t have much time for our imaginary play … our antics … but he was always there, hovering, uninterested in the details, but keeping us safe. It was Oliver, Alec, and me who had the biggest imaginations, and we utilized Gabriel and Milo to do the grunt work to carry it all out.

It was a glorious upbringing. Here, away from Mom and Dad and their drama. Here, things were stable.

To avoid reminiscing even more, I make the rounds one more time, playing security guard around the resort as I walk among the corridors, speaking briefly with the actual guards Sebastian hired. I make two passes by Sebastian’s penthouse suite.

My daughter is in there, hopefully sound asleep.

Is Quinn asleep? Or is she as unnerved as I am? And to be clear, I’m not unnerved only because of Raymond.

Being around Quinn again blows those nerves out of the water.

I finally fall asleep sometime after two in the morning, one ear trained to the door, the other with thoughts of Navie and Quinn on the floor above me.

I’m standing outside Quinn’s door, in athletic shorts and a T-shirt, when she comes out at nine o’clock in the morning. She’s in bright pink running shorts and a loosely-fitting white tank top. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail again. Navie’s not with her.

“Good morning.” I try to be professional, like she’s an Ostlin cousin, not the only woman I’ve ever loved.

Her eyes narrow. “Were you standing out here all night?”

“No.” I shrug. “Only for a couple of hours.” I fall in step beside her. “How was your night?”

“Fine.”

“Is Navie still asleep?” I ask.

She gives me a look like I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. “I wish,” she gives up half a laugh. “Sebastian’s watching her while I go down and get her some breakfast from the eatery.”

I want to see Navie, but I can wait until she gets some food.

“Were you able to write up your daily itinerary yet?”

She raises a brow and lifts her foot up behind her to stretch her quads. “But what if I write out where I’m going to be and it falls into the wrong hands?” She gives a half shudder. “Nah. I think I’m good.”

She pats my arm and moves to go past me. Do I imagine her hand lingers for a moment?

It’s no joke that she just touched me, regardless of how platonically harmless it was. Still, I can’t let it distract me.

“That’s a non-negotiable, Quinn. Do it for Navie. Please.”

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