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His eyes narrow, and fury flares inside them. “Take it back,” he snarls through gritted teeth. “Take it back, Quinn, or I swear I’m walking away and I’m not coming after you again. Because I can’t...I can’t keep doing this with you.” Then his face loses all tension and he whispers, “Or did you forget, you’re not the only broken person standing here?”

It takes everything I’ve got not to say and do whatever it takes to erase the hurt so clearly pouring out of him. But I can’t. Not when I know it would only be temporary.

“I won’t take it back. I can’t.”

For some idiotic reason, I expect him to continue to fight. To say something else. Anything to get me to change my mind. Because on some sick, selfish level I’m desperate for him to change it. Only he doesn’t. He turns and walks away just like he said he would. And I have no choice but to stand here and watch him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

RIKER

I don’t think I’ve moved in twenty hours. After I left Quinn out on that beach, I just drove home, walked in, and sat down on the bed. And here I am. Still in the same fucking place. My phone rang several times, but I never bothered to check it. I’m pretty damn sure it was Sid anyway. She’s the only person who calls me. Plus, I missed feeding Nox last night. And then again this morning.

I don’t care if he starves to death this time. It’s his fucking fault I’ve been sitting here for twenty hours. His fault I’m hoping a tsunami hits this house and takes me out to sea with the rubble. If he hadn’t been so damn stubborn that day, running off and choosing her—her, of all people—to be the one to catch him, I wouldn’t be in this mess now.

I’m about to start cursing him out loud when a knock sounds at my door. I watch it, waiting to see it open. Frankly, I’m a little shocked Sid knocked at all. Normally, when I go AWOL she’s prone to just busting through doors.

Then, there’s another knock. Well, that rules out Sid. And pretty much my desire to see whoever it is. Not that I want to see Sid either, but her I can’t deny. Everyone else is open to rejection at this point.

Only, whoever the fuck it is is persistent because they’re knocking again. And they’re not letting up.

“What the hell!?” I get to my feet and stomp across the room. When I throw the door back, Kirsten’s little fist nearly pounds me right in the nose.

“Oh. Good. You’re home.” Then she lets herself in, even though she has to squeeze past me to do it.

“All of her stuff is right there.” I point at the boxes I stacked along the wall a few days ago. Then I walk straight for the bathroom. I don’t need to watch her take the only thing that’s left of Quinn.

“I’m not here for her shit.”

I stop. “What?”

She nonchalantly takes a seat at my kitchen table. I guess she’s planning on staying a while.

“I said, I’m not here to pick up Quinn’s crap. She wanted to move out, she needs to figure out how to finish what she started. Even if it will be considerably harder now that she decided to leave for California four days early.”

I’m not sure if I’m curious or scared right now. Part of me is still leaning toward hiding out in the bathroom until she leaves. The other part of me thinks I might die in there if I go that route. I don’t know Kirsten all that well, but what I do know tells me she’s not likely to leave until after she gets what she wants.

I walk back to the table and sit across from her. “Then why are you here?”

“To finish the shitIstarted.” She places her keys and purse on the table. Yeah. She’s definitely staying a while.

“What shit, exactly, are you referring to?”

She leans back into her chair and drops her eyelids, and I’m instantly unnerved. “Before I tell you anything, I need to get one thing straight. I love my sister. I would do anything for her. Anything.”

Not feeling any better about this yet. “I had a sister. I get that. What I don’t get is how anything you did plays into my relationship with Quinn.”

She sighs. “Because. I’m the one who brought her here. And then, because that wasn’t enough, I brought her straight to you when I had Sophie’s birthday party at your ranch. But, in my defense, I did try to intervene the moment I saw sparks flying back and forth between the two of you.”

I lean over the table toward her. “Kirsten, no matter what’s happening right now, I’m not sorry I met her. I’ll never be sorry. You really have nothing to feel bad about. You didn’t really even do anything.”

She nods. “You’re right. I didn’t. Which is very unlike me. I don’t know if Quinn told you, but I’m a meddler. Major meddler. I pretty much believe I can fix everyone’s life if I can just get in there and do it myself. Which is to say, I’m going to meddle right now, so hold tight. Shit’s about to get bumpy.”

“You know, you swear a lot for someone who looks like a human Barbie doll. You’re definitely not for ages three and up.”

She laughs. “Really? You want to talk to me about how contradictory my appearance is to my personality? Mister inked-up redneck who grunts more than he speaks, but is actually smart, kind, and—wait for it—in touch with his feelings.”

“Point made. Get to meddling, woman.” There’s a twister slowly funneling in the pit of my stomach, and it’s growing into some sort of anxious excitement. Maybe I’m not as fucking lost here as I thought. What had Quinn said about her sister? Once she locks in on a target, there’s no avoiding that missile. Well, shoot away, Kirsten. I’m ready to be hit.

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