Page 117 of Broken Dreams

“I haven’t seen those bitches in years. I make it a point not to be in the same space as them,” Duncan says.

“I remember I pushed them out of the way when the van came barreling down on us,”Quinn says. “At the time, it never occurred to me that it was all planned out with them.”

“Why would you?” Callum asks. “They were fourteen years old. Hudson made sure they were the perfect helpers.”

“The mafia ages children differently,” Cian says. “Who knows how deeply the plans ran. We’re going to say goodnight because I need to take Adira home, and I’m personally exhausted. Everything is going the way it needs to, even if Hudson is a dick.”

Quinn’s mother’s lips twitch as Cian turns to her.

“It’s very good to see you, Ayla. Dare I say there’s light back in your eyes?” he asks.

Ayla smiles as she nods. “You can. It’s wonderful to be out of that house,” she sighs. “Thank you for taking care of her tonight.”

“It’s no problem at all. I feel awful that I couldn’t do a better job of it,” Cian mutters.

“Not your fault,”Quinn reprimands him.

“I still dislike that I couldn’t make an excuse for you not to go with him,” he says. “Good night everyone.”

We all say our goodbyes, and Ayla hugs her daughter before heading down the hall to sleep. She says she’s more comfortable on this floor rather than upstairs. I’m sure it’s because it’s the level she’s always slept on.

“Alright, let’s listen to this recording and do a little debriefing, shall we?” Duncan asks.

Yawning, Quinn nods, and I do what I’ve been wanting to do since I walked out of the house.

“Hey, Quinn?” I ask, walking over to her. “I’m glad you’re home.”

My arms open wide and she doesn’t hesitate to throw herself at me. Lifting her legs up so she can wrap them around me, I hold her as we walk into the living room to talk.

Duncan chuckles under his breath, knowing this is what I needed. My anxiety is already quieter now that I’m working on fixing things with Quinn. It tends to lie to me and tell me that she’s going to hate me for not saying goodbye, or that I’m an idiot.

Then it would cycle through every scenario where she doesn’t come home, mocking me for not telling her the things I’ve wanted to.

Fuck you, anxiety.

“I love you,” I whisper into her hair. Finding a spot on the couch, I put her down so I can take off her heels.

Just because she can wear them for hours, doesn’t mean it’s not satisfying to take them off.

Sinking my thumbs into the arch of her foot, I watch as she writhes on the couch, moaning.

“Those shoes are torture devices,” Callum mutters, taking a seat on the other side of the huge couch.

Duncan begins to sit before he freezes.

“I don’t suppose you managed to eat at all while you were over there?” he asks.

Glancing at Quinn’s face, I watch as she shakes her head.

“Right, I’m going to throw in some leftovers,” he mutters. “I’ll make some for you as well, Linus.”

I open my mouth to tell him that I’m fine, but my stomach manages to call me a liar first as it grumbles.

“I heard all about how you rage danced for two fucking hours,” Callum says, smirking as his brother storms out to get some food together.

Quinn touches my shoulder with her eyes wide, and I sigh.

“I was really upset,” I explain. “There was a lot going on in my head. I was pissed at myself for not saying goodbye to you, and then mad at you again, which created a really toxic circular reaction.”

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