Page 195 of Broken Dreams

“Ah,” I say, forcing myself to relax. “I found a relaxed restaurant that I want to take you to, and then a club that has a live salsa band. Nothing too fancy.”

“Okay,” she says brightly, leaving the room with Linus. Morris glances at me for a second as if to figure out why I froze before going back to work in another room.

“What was that about?” Duncan asks, confused.

“You looked like you were going to swallow your tongue,” Callum adds, eyes wide. “What gives?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “It felt like someone walked over my grave, I guess. It was really weird.”

“How?” Duncan asks, not willing to give up.

Fuck me.

“I was a regular at Slick Dreams, and she always seems to know how I liked for her to wear her hair, color of lingerie sets I liked, and wore the robes I bought her and Linus,” I explain. “I didn’t like for them to walk through the club half naked. Look, it was fucked up, I know. It just threw me back to times where they’d come see me at the club and I froze.”

“I can see that,” Duncan says, swallowing hard. “She didn’t take it that way, though. Quinn just wanted to know what toexpect for the date so she could plan accordingly. Take the keys to the truck and have fun.”

Rubbing my temple, I nod. “I have to get my vehicle at some point,” I mutter. “I want to keep working on Omega’s Haven’s new transitional housing. They still need people.”

“I’d be willing to go with you,” Duncan says easily. “Once Morris makes sure that your shoulder is fine. It’s been barely a week since you got shot. Seriously, take it easy. No one thinks you’re shirking your responsibilities. Finish healing.”

Suitably chastised, I head upstairs to shower and change. I really have felt as if I’m laying down on the job, because I’ve gotten so used to going every day. However, since I’ve told the forewoman that I’ve been hurt, she’d kick me off her build site now.

I need to slow my roll, focus on my omegas. It was nice to sleep with them in the same bed the entire night. I did notice that Quinn is still having nightmares, but instead of waking up screaming, it’s little whimpers. They still kill me to hear them.

As I get ready, I wonder if therapy is an option for either of them. I’ve done some research on it, and I’ve read that not everyone is comfortable with it. Murder seems to be Quinn’s favorite way to deal with things. I’m not going to knock it.

Killing everyone who has the capacity to hurt you does have a good ring to it.

Smirking as I leave the room, I sigh at my clothes. I’m still borrowing things from the brothers, and it doesn’t fit the same way. On the way back, I’m going to swing by the apartment I’ve been living in to pack a bag.

In the meantime, Duncan’s black shirt works, folded over my forearms with a pair of black slacks. My weapons still fit well enough in all of the places that I hide them. Ugh, I just want my own shit.

“Who kicked your puppy, Christian?” Linus asks with wide eyes as he walks out of the nest with Quinn.

“No one,” I admit. “I just decided that I need to get some of my own clothes at my apartment when we are on our way back.”

“Do we have time to go now?” Quinn asks, recognizing that I feel off. “Linus and I don’t mind waiting.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I deny.

“Yes it is,” Quinn says in a sing-song tone. “Let’s go.”

“We have a reservation,” I groan. “I promise I’ll survive.”

Quinn and Linus give each other a look, and I swear it’s like they’re ganging up on me. I need to ask Duncan and Callum how they handle this. Right now, I just want to give them whatever they want because I love their brattiness.

Walking down the stairs, we say goodbye to everyone as Duncan opens the door to allow Ayla into the house.

“Mom!” Quinn says warmly. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”

Her cheeks pinken as she nods. “He’s just so nice,” Ayla says with wonder in her voice. Her dead husband was a fucking asshole, and this solidifies that. “I’m trying to sort out my feelings about it.”

“Are things moving too quickly?” I ask, forgetting myself. I shouldn’t be interjecting myself in any way.

“No,” Ayla says thoughtfully. “It’s more that they feel so right that it’s scaring me. What if I make the wrong decision?”

“His son is really nice as well,” Quinn says. “Someone responsible for raising such a wonderful human being is bound to also be nice. Bryce has always been very kind to me as well, Mom. It’s okay to take a time out, though.”

---