Page 67 of Quinlan

Is Rome reading my lips? Seems like it. He gives me a brisk nod, his fierce expression lending me the strength I need to put an end to this discussion.

I shouldn’t rely on any of these three for anything. In fact, I dare any of them to try to talk to me when I end this call. They won’t know what hit them.

But I can use them. And I will. I pretend I’m as vicious as mystery man. As calm as Liam. As strong as Rome.

“If I see you here, Rex—if you try to take me home somehow—I’ll scream. Kidnapping is a punishable offense.”

“You can’t mean that.” He’s done yelling. Done threatening.

“Watch me.” My lungs expand and air filters in. “Someone will call the police. I’ll press charges.”

The humiliating night I spent over at a friend’s house in junior high resurfaces. Dad told Rex I was there in a moment of lucidity. He drove over there. Banged on my friend’s door. Dragged me home by my arm and left.

I didn’t go to school for a week after that; I was so embarrassed.

No more.

The men were only the strike of a match. My soul has been doused with gasoline for years.

With one click, I hang up on him. I turn off the GPS on my phone and shove the phone in my bag.

In the bar, it’s business as usual. Music continues to play around me. People talk, drink, laugh.

And yet…

Nothing’s the same.

Empowered. That’s what I feel.

That, and burning up.

The men keep staring at me, not an ounce of humor or depravity on their faces. Concern and fury harden their features. Eyes narrowed.

I yelled, I realize. And while the rest of the people close by are polite, acting as if they haven’t noticed me shouting at Rex, my three strangers do no such thing.

They make it a point to let me know my conversation was their business. That I’m their business.

Great. Just great. I hoped to avoid it, and look at me.

Humiliated all over again.

Rex has ruined my night with his psycho, controlling behavior. Has thrown me off balance.

The three men who stare at me aren’t any better. They’re here for me.

It’s crystal clear that this has been some kind of a ruse. Neither one of them is surprised that the others recognize me. They, like my half-brother, are stalkers.

Mystery man had me doubting myself when I accused him of it. He can’t gaslight me anymore. No one can.

My feet move on their own, one step after the other, toward the back of the bar. To my friends. I stride past the men, my head held high.

They don’t exist anymore. They won’t rattle me.

I’m here to have fun. No one, and I mean no one, will ruin this for me.

“Quinlan, there you are.” Ray jumps out of the booth as soon as I come into view.

Beautiful in a mini, dove-gray dress that hugs her curves, my neighbor is all smiles. She rushes to me on her three-inch heels, and though we don’t usually hug, I let her wrap her arms around me. After the last ten minutes, I need it. Desperate for it.

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