Page 20 of Open Secrets
“It’s Quinn,” comes the sharp reply. “Markus got arrested last night. DUI. You might wanna bail him out.”
I blink at the ceiling, trying to process. “Huh?”
She sighs. “I’ll send you the doc info too. Good luck.” The line goes dead before I can answer.
I just stare at the screen, jaw tightening. DUI. That idiot.
Before heading to the bathroom, I thumb out a quick text to my sister.Anna—your client’s in jail.
No way am I gonna bail him out. Already did him enough favours when I asked my sister to represent him in his divorce. Big mistake.
Only after hitting send do I drag myself up. When I finally make it to the bathroom, I catch my reflection in the mirror—rumpled, eyes shadowed—and almost laugh at the thought of Markus behind bars.
Skipping the shower, I hit the bathroom, splash water on my face, and head down.
Our house is nothing fancy but solid—two stories, wide living room that spills into the kitchen, office tucked off the hall, patio out back. When we bought it, upstairs had three bedrooms. We split two of them with partitions years ago, turned them into four. Renter-friendly, cheap solution, but it worked. Everyone got their own space.
Prime property near base, and it’s ours for free. Perks of the Army.
I shove the thought aside. Not now.
The smell of bacon and toast hits me as I hit the stairs. Down in the kitchen, Maria is at the stove, hair pulled back, moving fast. Rain sits at the counter, swinging her legs, humming to herself while she cradles her juice. Remi and Taylor are arguing across the table about who gets the long spoon like it’s life or death. August pads in barefoot, dinosaur clutched under one arm, rubbing his eyes with the other. He’s dressed yet still looks half asleep.
It’s chaos. Our chaos.
“Morning,” I say, voice still scratchy.
“Morning,” Remi mumbles, already shovelling cereal like we don’t feed him.
Taylor rolls her eyes. “You’re gross.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
Rain sighs dramatically. “Can you both not? Some of us are trying to enjoy our juice in peace.”
That earns her a look from both of them, and for a heartbeat, I almost laugh. Same scene, different day.
Maria slides a plate onto the counter without looking at me. “Eat before it gets cold.”
I pull out a chair, sit down, and try not to notice the way she doesn’t meet my eyes. The way her shoulders stay tight, like she’s holding her breath.
The kids chatter around me, trading jabs, giggling, groaning about the bus, about homework, about teachers who “hate” them. I nod, answer when I’m supposed to, but mostly I just watch her.
When the last bite is gone and the bus horn honks outside, the chaos kicks up again. Backpacks get slung over shoulders, shoes get shoved on the wrong feet, last-minute papers signed.
“Bye!” Rain sings as she bolts out the door.
“Love you!” Taylor calls, already halfway down the driveway.
Remi grunts something that sounds vaguely like goodbye, and August drags his dinosaur out with him, waving back through the glass.
The door shuts. The house exhales.
Maria leans against the counter, bracing on her hands. The quiet is deafening.
“Can we talk? Before you head out?”
