Page 45 of Tin

The last night I sat in here, I spent all night staring out that window. Asking the stars. God. For some sort of an answer. Some reason I could comprehend. It never came. And I never stepped foot in this room again. Until today.

Quinn’s standing in the doorway, scared to come in. I know I’m putting a lot on her all at once. But we’re running out of time. The only way she’ll ever feel truly safe with me is if she knows all there is to know. Maybe then she’ll finally be able to trust me and let down her guard.

“You never talk about your kids,” she whispers.

“I don’t know how.” I’ve tried. Countless times. I hate not talking about them. Never saying their names. Never remembering the funny things they said or laughing about the crazy things they did. It’s like they never even existed. And maybe that should make it easier, but it doesn’t.

“Do you ever see them?” She takes a tentative step inside, like the floor might give out under her or the walls collapse. It’s not the room making her feel that way. It’s me. I don’t know how to stop it. These feelings have been buried since they first attempted to take me out. Forcing them down and locking them up was the only way I could even function. Unfortunately, now that they’re seeping through, escaping and overriding everything, I have no idea what I’m truly up against.

“I’m not allowed to see them.” I need to sit, but the only chair in the room is the rocker, and sitting in it might actually kill me right now. So I lean against the changing table. It’s better than nothing. “Harlow was about to turn four, and Mason was one when Miranda found out she was pregnant with baby number three. Timing couldn’t have been better, really. I needed something positive in my life. Something I could look forward to. And while other lives had come to an end, here was a brand-new one just beginning.”

She’s following my example and resting against the crib across the room. Judging from the way her knuckles are turning white, her grasp around the railing isn’t just to steady her. She’s holding on for dear life. So am I. I’m gambling. And I’m no gambler. But there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll either wind up with her—all of her—or...nothing.

“For a while, everything seemed to be looking up again. The pregnancy proved to be the perfect distraction from all the shit going wrong in my life. Then, when she was seven months along, we had a scare. Wound up in the hospital where we were told that Miranda was suffering from severe preeclampsia. When the doctor explainedthat we needed to consider the possibility of inducing labor, her first response was that she needed to inform the father of what was happening.” I take a long breath and exhale again. After years of blocking this moment from my mind, it’s hard to face again. “I was standing right beside her when she said it.”

QUINN

“It wasn’t your baby.” As soon as I say it, I want to slap myself. Like he really needed to hear the words out loud.

“Nope.” His sad eyes travel the walls of the small room. “Turns out neither was Mason. Or Harlow.”

This time I keep my mouth shut. But, mentally, I’m screaming. Furious at this Miranda person. This phantom wife who took the man that I...that...the man he was and took everything from him that mattered. She was the reason he ran off to the desert to die. It was her.

“Apparently, when Miranda and I first started seeing each other, she was also dating this guy, Colton. Then she found out she was pregnant and decided between the two of us, I was the more reliable income source since Colton was two years younger and still going to school. So she married me. And had Colton’s baby.”

I still can’t fully wrap my brain around all of this. It’s probably a good thing. “She knew the whole time?”

He nods. “Yep. And he was in on it too. The whole time.” He laughs. Probably because it hurts less that way. “See, he was going to pilot school. And lo and behold, she became a flight attendant. Maintaining their relationship became a piece of cake when he graduated, and they started working for the same airline. Meanwhile, I stayed home taking care of their kids.”

“You never even suspected?” I’ve never been cheated on. Surprisingly. But I always wonder if cheaters are really good at hiding their secrets or if those being deceived have an instinct to look the other way. Sort of out of self-preservation.

“Not even once. I should have. Our marriage was far from perfect. If anything, it was practical. We got along well enough. Had sex just often enough for me to believe I conceived three children, and, other than that, we were getting what we needed elsewhere. Miranda with Colton...me with the kids.”

Those last four words stay with me. Repeating themselves over and over until they’re ringing loudly in the back of my mind, drowning out every other thought. Only I can’t let him know. Not now. He can’t see that the revelation of his past has just wiped out any chance of us ever having a future. Hope. That small, yet mighty, word. It’s gone now.

“What did you do after you found out?” I’m forcing the words to come out. Making myself go through the motions so he can too. If nothing else, I’ll see this through with him. I’ll be there for every step as he faces the grief he so clearly still carries. Maybe then...maybe after me, he’ll find someone who can make him happy again.

“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t knowwhatto do.” He pushes off from the changing table and walks over to the window. “In the end, I didn’t need to. Colton was making good money by then, so there really wasn’t any reason for Miranda to stick around here. She filed for divorce. Tried to have the prenup my dad insisted she sign to protect the family business thrown out, but couldn’t because the judge wasn’t an idiot. When everything was said and done, she got nothing. And she got everything. My name was taken from the birth certificates. Their names were changed to Colton’s. The five years I spent as a father were completely erased. And so was I.”

“I’m...so sorry.” I stumble over the words as I walk across the room to meethim.

He turns toward me. “Don’t be.” He takes both my hands and kisses them softly. “No matter what happens between us. Don’t ever be sorry, Quinn. These last few months with you have changed my life. Made the difference between existing and living. You did that for me. And that’s not something I ever want you to forget.” It’s as if he knows.

“You don’t know how much I wish I was someone else. Someone better. Someone who actually deserved to hear all the amazing words you say to me.” Tears are rolling down my cheeks, but I don’t stop them. I don’t want Riker to let go of my hands. Not yet.

“If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t be standing here right now, Quinn. I wouldn’t be ready to let go of a past I thought I’d never be able to face again, let alone part with.”

I start to tell him he’s crazy for thinking that, but he stops me by devouring my mouth with his, drinking me in and draining me of every thought and emotion other than how completely consumed I am by him.

“Riker.” I breathe his name against the softness of his skin because it’s all I can say. All I can think.

“Stop. You’re thinking too much. It’s done. You. Me. Us. It’s done,” he whispers back. “So just let me hold you. Please.”

And I do. I slide into his embrace, pressing myself to him as tightly as I can, until my racing heart meets his and finally slows itself to join the calming rhythm coming from his chest.

We stand there together. Both silently letting the tears fall. Both knowing this moment will change us. And neither of us is ready for it.

When we finally leave behind the wrecked remains of what was once a happy home, we’re both quiet, hardly speaking to each other. Breakfast has fallen by the wayside. Neither of us is thinking about food anymore.

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