“So now that I know the baby is okay, I can say how much my wrist fucking hurts.” She holds up her arm, wincing. “Are you sure it’s not broken? It feels broken.”
“You should have said something.”
She makes a face. “I didn’t want the attention to be taken away from the baby, in case…in case.” Tears fill her eyes and her bottom lip quivers. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” she says, trying hard to stop the tears from falling. “Everything is okay.”
I pull her into my arms. “It was a lot to take in. It’s overwhelming.”
“Oh my God. Work. How am I going to be able to work? I can hardly move my arm.” And then she bursts into tears, and I don’t think it’s possible to feel any more hatred for my brother than I do right now. “I’m sorry I’m crying,” she sobs. “I don’t usually cry. It’s just…it’s just the hormones.”
“Babe, it’s okay.” I cradle her against me, being careful not to hurt her wrist. I don’t think it’s broken. She can move it along with all her fingers and the swelling is minimal.
“I can order you an X-ray still,” I tell her.
“No,” Quinn mumbles. “I don’t want to expose the baby to anything like that. If it gets worse, I’ll let you know.”
I brush her hair back and kiss her forehead. “You’re going to be a good mom.”
Quinn’s bottom lip quivers and more tears pool in her eyes. Elena comes back in, looking alarmed.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Quinn sniffles. “Everything caught up to me and I was so scared.” She takes my hand and brings it to her stomach. “I really thought we might lose the baby.”
“He’s safe in there,” I assure Quinn.
“She’s safe in there, you mean,” she says with a smile. “I agree with my mom on this one. It’s a girl.”
Quinn looks at the ultrasound pictures, eyes glossing over. We’re headed home, and I steal a glance away from the road to see her beautiful face. Her eyes are brimming with tears.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I put my hand on her thigh.
“Nothing.” Tears roll down her cheeks.
“Why are you crying?”
“I was thinking about bald eagles.”
“Bald eagles?” I raise an eyebrow. “Bald eagles make you cry?”
“They used to be endangered. But they’re not anymore. They’re so majestic and beautiful and I’m just so happy they’re not endangered anymore.”
I don’t mean to laugh, but dammit, she’s so fucking adorable. “Remember how you said it wasn’t fair that I didn’t get to experience drunk-Quinn?”
“Yeah.”
“I am now.” I wink and squeeze her thigh.
She sniffles and laughs, wiping her eyes. “Yeah. I guess so.” Her eyes squeeze shut, and more tears stream out.
“Stop thinking about eagles, babe,” I try to say seriously but end up laughing. Quinn laughs too, shaking her head. She inhales and looks back down at the ultrasound. She mumbles something about taking a picture of the baby to send to her mom and fumbles with her purse until she finds her cell.
When we get back to my apartment, I get out and immediately lock the doors to the Jeep and look around for my pathetic excuse for a brother. Not seeing him, I unlock the door and help Quinn out.
“You were supposed to leave tonight,” I remind her when we get through the door. Sam’s already here, and I lock the deadbolt behind us.
“I’ll stay tonight,” she mumbles, eyelids heavy.
“Do you need to call about your flight?”
“No. I never scheduled a return flight. I was going to today. The driver…no, the flyer…the…the…”
“Pilot.”
“Yeah. That guy. He was going to pick me up whenever I was ready.” She scrunches up her nose. “I sound like a rich asshole, don’t I?”
“You’re basically Bruce Wayne when he’s trying to convince the world he’s still a billionaire playboy and not a superhero.”
“Damn,” she says, not missing a beat. “Hopefully I’m giving more of a Christian Bale performance over Ben Affleck.”
“It’s Oscar-worthy.” I hook my arm around her, seeing the dark circles under her eyes. After all she’s been through today, I know she’s exhausted. We get settled into bed, and I pull the blankets up around her shoulders. Resting her head on my chest, I run my fingers through her hair.
The words I’ve been wanting to say bubble up inside me but are quickly squashed down by the memories of my brother. I’ll have to face him eventually, and worse, I’ll have to explain everything to Quinn. I look down at her beautiful face, eyes closed but still a bit swollen from crying. There is no one else for me but her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.
3
Archer
I pull the blankets up over Quinn’s shoulders, tucking her back in after I get out of bed. She fell asleep quickly, thanks to the Benadryl, and right now she looks peaceful and relaxed. I stand there for a moment looking down at her and feeling so much.
I’m in love with her. Head over heels, crazy, stupid love with her. My heart is so full, more so than I ever thought possible. And it’s weird because while I’m standing here feeling all this love for Quinn, a deep-rooted hatred for my brother grows stronger and stronger.
Bending over, I give Quinn a kiss, and turn to leave, silently shutting the door behind me. Grabbing the leftovers from lunch, I go into the living room and sit on the couch.
“Everything good?” Sam asks, turning away from the TV.
“Yeah. She’s sleeping.”
Sam nods, looks back at the TV for half a second, and then at me again. “Your fucking brother?”
“I know. I haven’t seen the asshole in years.”
“What do you think he wanted?”
“I have no fucking clue. He seemed on something?”
“Isn’t he always?” Sam replies. “And yeah. Bloodshot eyes, pale, and angry. Not that it makes it any better, but I don’t think he meant to hurt Quinn.”
“It doesn’t matter. He did hurt her.” I set down my fork and pinch the bridge of my nose, appetite pretty much gone.
“Did Quinn know about him?”
“I’m not sure, actually.” And I’m really not. I avoided Quinn most of the time when I was at the Dawson’s house. I couldn’t get over my attraction to her, and being around her made it worse. We hardly ever talked, but I’m assuming some sort of explanation was given to her about why I hung around so many times.
Dean knows everything, and his parents do too. We’ve talked about it in length, and my own parents have thanked Mr. and Mrs. Dawson over and over for letting me stay with them during the holidays so I didn’t have to spend Christmas watching my brother get his stomach pumped.
“I didn’t bring it up before, but she’ll find out soon enough.”
“Wait, you haven’t told her the guy who hit her with the door is your brother
yet?”
Shaking my head, I pick up my fork again. “I started to and our conversation got interrupted. She’s too loopy to talk about anything serious now.” I take a few bites of my pasta and then sigh. “I need to call my parents. Have them come down here and deal with Bobby.”
“Does he have a sponsor to call too?”
“Probably, but what good would that do?” I grumble. “This has been going on for fifteen fucking years. I don’t know how he’s not dead yet.”
“I have a feeling he will be once you get a hold of him.”
“I plan to beat the shit out of him, that’s for sure.” Anger surges through me again. More family drama is the last thing Quinn needs. Dean and Kara are still being immature over the due date being so close to their wedding as if Quinn did it on purpose to steal the spotlight.
The rest of her family is back to being supportive but still concerned how Quinn and I are going to make this work since we not only don’t live together but live four hours apart. The rational part of me says I should be concerned too, but for some reason, I’m not.
We’ll make things work.
I’ve never wanted anything more, and while I’ve never been one to leave shit to faith and trust it’ll all work out, I just have this feeling deep in my gut that it will. I’d be surprised if I’m not offered the job at the hospital at Eastwood. It’s still a few hours from Chicago, but it’s closer than I am now.
Forcing myself to finish my food, I get up, put my dishes away, and pull out my phone, needing to call my mom. Sam says he’s going to take a shower since he hasn’t yet after the gym, which is true, but I know he’s giving me space. He might come off as full of himself at times, but he’s a good friend.
Mom answers after one ring. She must be sitting around waiting for the phone to ring with news about Bobby. I doubt she’s slept much if at all. Doesn’t he care what he’s done to our family? What he puts our mother through?
“Hey, Archie,” she says and just from those two words I can tell she’s tired. “How are you?”
“Bobby was here,” I say, cutting to the chase. “A few hours ago.”
“What? Here? The hospital?” she stammers.