Page 246 of Quinlan

There’s no real reason for me to do that. I’m not planning on leaving the apartment to go to them. They’ll come to me, and on me, soon enough. After work.

This letter is nothing but a sexy foreplay.

Still, my hand remains firm on the door.

My phone buzzes on the table in the living room where I left it. Now Iknowthey were the ones who sent me that letter. They’re probably calling to check if I got it.

Unable to wait a second longer, I open the envelope, my heart racing as I do.

As soon as I see the letter inside, my breath gets knocked out of me. Damien, Liam and Rome take great care with their things. Their home. Their jobs. Their revenge. Me.

They would’veneversent me a letter written on crumpled paper.

Okay. Don’t panic. It’s just a letter. Even if it’s not them, it won’t bite.

At least that’s what I try to convince myself as I unfold the piece of paper tucked inside the envelope.

My hands shake. Then my hammering takes a nosedive, headfirst to the floor.

Quinlan.

Our dad and your mom aren’t doing well. It’s the worst they’ve ever been.

I called them last night (couldn’t get off work). They threatened to kill themselves. Said they weren’t fucking around.I would’ve emailed you, figured your new BOYFRIEND monitors your messages.

Never mind that. My point being, I can’t do this alone anymore. They won’t survive without you.

You’ve had your fun. You needed the time off.

Fine. I get it. But they’re your parents.

They said they needed you. That your email destroyed them.

If they die, it’ll be on your conscience, as it should. Hell, they might already be dead by the time you get this.

Be a decent human being and try anyway.

Not for me. For them.

Rex.

“Here, Shawna, I’ll do it. Sit, please,” Kannon says from the kitchen.

She sniffs. “Thank you.”

Their conversation is background noise, dulled by the impending sense of doom that’s everywhere. Guilt swoops in, consuming me. Swallowing me whole. Our investigators said Mom and Dad have been taking their medication as prescribed. They haven’t bought any sharp objects. Haven’t contacted the funeral home like they do sometimes.

However, it is possible they haven’t done any of it and still consider… Still want…

A sob rips through me. I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Hard.

I can’t think. Or I can, because I decide against doubling back and calling Damien, Rome or Liam. Any one of them.

They’d take too long to get here. Mom and Dad wouldn’t let the investigators in if they told them to knock. They could break into the house, but it could trigger my parents. They could scare them into getting on with it faster.

What if my dad stumbles off the stool and accidentally hangs himself? Mom could startle with a knife pinned to her throat, and then…

And then…

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