Page 175 of Quinlan

Liam gestures to the email she’s been writing in the smaller window. He taps on the mouse to pull it up on the screen. Clicks on the keyboard to turn on the volume just so my shredded heart would shred some more at hearing her sob while we follow the words on the screen as she types.

Hey, Mom. Hi, Dad.

I need to talk to you about something. It would hurt, and I’m sorry about that. But I can’t keep it in any longer.

Two nights ago, I was in so much pain. The night Blake died returned to me. My brother. My heart bled. I could hardlybreathe. I screamed, and it wasn’t enough for all the pain I felt. I was choking.

I still am. Some moments, long hours, I’m fine. It doesn’t last, though. I can’t stop feeling everything. I’m broken. Don’t know if I’ll ever be fixed.

I’m furious. At you. At the world.

You didn’t mean for Blake to die. You loved him as much as I have.

A part of you died there in the pool with him. I have no doubt about that. About how real your pain is.

So is mine.

My baby brother is gone, and I’m never getting him back.

Finally, after years of surviving, some people helped me realize this wasn’t entirely my fault like I was led to believe. I could’ve screamed louder, but it wasn’t all on me. It wasn’t and isn’t fair that you let this go on for as long as you have.

Still, I forgive you. I can and I will, until the day I die.

What I can’t do is stay in that damned pool for the rest of my life.

I love you. I’ll keep supporting you financially. I’ll schedule appointments and make sure you get the best treatment possible. I can afford to send you to a good facility, where there’ll be professionals to look after you around the clock.

That’s the best I’ve got. I can’t do this anymore, this constant fear. The constant grief. Blake wouldn’t have wanted it for us. I don’t remember much of him, but during the short time he was here, he was sweet. He was good.

He was the heart of our family.

We’ll continue being one. A family. Just…a little different. I hope you understand.

We’ll talk soon. When I can call, I guess. If you’ll answer.

I love you so much,

Quinlan.

She sucks in a few labored breaths.

Neither of us breathes. Liam doesn’t minimize the screen of the email. Doesn’t do a damn thing. He’s as frozen as we are.

“Oh, well.” Quinlan moves the cursor on the screen, her voice raw from crying. She clicks the Send button. “It’s not like they’ll read it. At least it’s out, right?”

Liam slams the laptop shut. I’m faster than the two of them, breaking into a sprint to the elevators.

“Damien,” Rome calls out.

Tatum says something, but he’s too far for me to hear it.

This agonizing need to haul Quinlan into my arms hurts. Viscerally fucking pain slashes through me.

I’ll die if I don’t get to her before anyone else. Before I take my next breath.

For years, I’ve missed the signs. I’ve been obsessed with revenge, with making Quinlan mine. With watching over Rex, making sure he doesn’t physically hurt her.

And I’ve neglected the rest. Her grief. How abandoned she’s been.

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