27. QUINN
QUINN
I stumble out of the hospital, barely hearing Beck’s voice trailing after me. My chest feels like it’s caving in, every breath scraping against my ribs. Pregnant. The word echoes in my skull, sharp and merciless.
No, no, no. This cannot be happening.
The sun is too bright outside, the air too thin, and people are just walking around as if the ground hasn’t split beneath my feet. My hands shake as I clutch my bag against me, trying to anchor myself, but it doesn’t help. I’m floating, untethered, about to spin into pieces.
My future, dreams, career—proving to everyone that I’m more than just an Atwood girl with a rich daddy who is the mayor.
It all flashes before me like smoke slipping through my fingers.
And at the center of it all is Beck. Beck with his crooked smile and rough hands that have held me through so much.
Beck who promised me safety and love. Beck who swore he would never let me down again.
And now this.
Tears blur my vision as I shove past a couple heading into the hospital. They shoot me a look, but I don’t care. My heels click too loud on the pavement, my stride too fast—maybe if I can just outrun the truth, it won’t catch up to me.
I’m pregnant with his baby!
I press a hand to my stomach as if I’ll feel it already there, the proof of all my mistakes blooming inside me. A child I didn’t plan for. A child that’s going to ruin everything I wanted for myself.
And it’s his fault. It has to be his fault.
If he hadn’t walked into my life, if he hadn’t kissed me like the world would end without it, if he hadn’t whispered things in the dark that made me believe, I wouldn’t be standing here on the edge of my carefully built world, watching it crumble.
I clench my jaw, fury mixing with the terror until it’s impossible to tell them apart. I love him—God help me, I love him—but right now, all I can feel is betrayal. Because Beck always drags chaos behind him, and somehow, I let myself believe I could dodge the fallout.
I couldn’t, obviously.
I don’t remember the drive home. One minute I’m waving down a taxi, rambling off an address; the next we’re pulling into the long, gravel driveway of Atwood Manor. The tires crunch against the stones, announcing me before I even step out.
The house looms over me, polished and perfect, the kind of place where nothing messy is supposed to exist. And here I am—messy, raw, and... pregnant. My throat tightens as I shove open the heavy front door, the familiar scent of leather polish and my mother’s roses slamming into me.
“Quinn?” My mother’s voice drifts from the parlor. She appears in the doorway, pearls at her throat, her brows knitting the instant she takes in my face. “What on earth—?”
I brush past her before she can finish, my heels clicking hard against the marble floor. I can’t stand her cool, assessing gaze. Not now, when my insides are a storm.
My father is already rising from his chair in the living room, newspaper forgotten on the table. His eyes narrow, sharp as a hawk’s.
“What’s wrong?” His tone isn’t gentle. It never is. It’s clipped, demanding, as if I’m a soldier reporting in.
“Nothing.” The lie catches in my throat. My chest heaves, tears threatening to spill, and I know they don’t believe me.
Landon comes down the stairs with Louis close behind. My brothers freeze when they see me, their easy banter dying instantly. Landon’s face softens, concern tugging at his mouth, while Louis looks wary.
“Quinn,” Landon says carefully, stepping closer. “What happened?”
I shake my head, hugging my arms tight across my stomach as if I can shield the secret already pulsing inside me. My voice breaks when I whisper, “Everything. Everything’s ruined.”
My father’s jaw tightens. He takes a step forward, his presence filling the room. “Is this about that Morgan boy? Because I warned you—“
“Don’t,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. The sound ricochets off the walls, making everyone flinch. I’ve never raised my voice in this house, but the dam inside me is cracking.
My mother crosses her arms, her silence louder than words. She’s already withdrawing, choosing disappointment over comfort. It burns worse than if she’d slapped me.
I glance at my brothers again, desperate. Landon’s brows furrow, his eyes scanning my face, searching for the truth written there. Louis shifts uncomfortably, torn between further antagonizing our parents and protecting me.
And then, just like that, I feel it. The weight of this whole house pressing down, judging me, suffocating me.
I’m not Quinn the badass, independent woman who was going to change Wrangler Creek. I’m just their daughter who made the worst mistake imaginable.
The sound of tires screeching outside makes every head in the room whip toward the front door. My heart stutters, my stomach flipping violently, because I know exactly who it is.
Beck.
Of course he followed me.
The heavy knock comes a beat later, sharp and insistent. Before anyone can stop him, the door swings open and there he is, filling the doorway with broad shoulders and a storm-dark gaze. He looks wild and desperate, chest heaving as though he’s sprinted all the way here.
“Quinn.” His voice cracks on my name.
I stiffen, every nerve in my body lighting up at the sight of him, but I can’t let myself melt. Not here. Not now.
“You need to leave,” I bite out, clutching my arms tighter around myself.
He shakes his head immediately, taking a step inside despite the weight of my father’s glare. “No. I’m not leaving you here. Come home with me and we’ll figure it out, together.”
Home? Together? Those words slice me in half. My chest aches, but the ache twists into rage. Hot, blinding rage.
“Don’t you dare say that!” I snap, the tears I’ve been choking back finally spilling over. “You don’t get to ruin my life and then act like we’re in this together!”
Beck freezes, as if I’ve slapped him. His mouth opens, then closes, his hands flexing uselessly at his sides. “Quinn—“
“No!” The word tears out of me, raw and broken. “You—God, you—“ I choke on the sob clawing up my throat. “You’ve ruined everything I’ve worked for. Everything I planned. Do you even get that?”
He looks gutted, his face crumpling, but I can’t stop. The words pour out, sharp as glass, too sharp to take back.
“I should’ve known better than to think you’d be anything other than a disaster! You’ve dragged me down with you, Beck. And now I’m stuck with a future I never wanted.”
He staggers back a half-step, as if each word hits him square in the chest. His voice is hoarse when he whispers, “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” My laugh is jagged, bitter. “Life stopped being fair the moment I met you.”
For a beat, silence roars between us. His eyes search mine, begging me to take it back, begging me to be the Quinn who held his hand in the dark, who believed in him when no one else did. But I can’t. I don’t know how.
Not when the truth is growing inside me like a ticking clock I can’t rewind.
Beck takes another step forward, his voice breaking. “Quinn, please. Don’t shut me out like this. I love you. You know I do.”
His words cut deeper than they should. They should be a balm, but instead, they ignite the fire already raging inside me. My chest tightens, my throat burns, and before I can stop myself, the venom spills out.
“Stop saying that!” I scream, my hands trembling as I point at him. “Stop pretending like love is enough. Love doesn’t fix the fact that I’m pregnant. Love doesn’t give me back my future. Love doesn’t change the fact that you’ve ruined me!”
Beck flinches as if I’ve driven a knife into him. His eyes shine, hurt shimmering just beneath the surface, but still, he doesn’t back away. He’s stubborn like that, always has been.
“I didn’t ruin you, Quinn. I—“
“You did!” My voice cracks, raw and shaking. “You’re poison, Beck. You’ve been poison from the moment I let you in. I should’ve stayed away. I should’ve listened to everyone who warned me about you.”
His jaw tightens, and for the first time, he looks as if he might break. His lips part as if to argue, but the sound of metal clicking behind me makes the air shift.
“All right, that’s enough!”
My father’s voice booms, low and dangerous, and I don’t need to turn to know what’s in his hands. The heavy scrape of a shotgun barrel being cocked is unmistakable.
Beck’s eyes dart past me, and his entire body stiffens.
“Sir—“ he starts, but my father cuts him off.
“You heard my daughter. She doesn’t want you here. Now, get the hell off my property before I blow your head off.”
Beck looks at me one last time, his expression a mixture of devastation and defiance. His voice is quiet, almost strangled. “You don’t mean that, Quinn. Not really.”
And God help me, he’s right. But I can’t admit it. Not with my father behind me, not with my family watching.
So I lift my chin, force my voice steady, and whisper the most brutal lie I’ve ever told. “I do.”
That single sentence rips something vital from both of us. I feel it in my bones.
Beck’s face hardens, the light in his eyes dimming, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he doesn’t fight back. He just nods, slow and hollow, then turns and walks out the door.
Each heavy step fades until all I hear is the hammering of my own pulse.
Behind me, my father exhales, smug and sharp. “I told you that boy was going to ruin you.”
The words slice through me worse than any blade. I fold into myself, my arms wrapping around my stomach as though I can shield the life inside from the mess outside.
And though the house is full of people, I’ve never felt more alone.
The silence after Beck leaves is unbearable, thick enough to choke on. My father lowers the shotgun with a grunt, muttering under his breath as if he’s accomplished something. My brothers linger in the doorway, their expressions unreadable, shadows against the light spilling in from the hall.
Then Landon speaks, his tone quiet but sharp enough to cut through the heaviness. “Real proud moment, huh? Running him off with a gun like some villain in a bad western.”
“Watch your mouth, boy,” my father snaps, his eyes narrowing. “That piece of trash was trespassing where he didn’t belong.”
But Landon doesn’t flinch. His gaze flicks to me, steady and unyielding. “You’re really gonna sit there and pretend like this is all on Beck? Come on, Quinn. You know better.”
The words hit me like cold water. My chest tightens, shame creeping in around the edges, but I force myself to hold my ground. “Don’t, Landon.” My voice wavers, betraying me. “Don’t put this on me.”
“I’m not.” He takes a step closer, lowering his voice so it’s just between us, though the sting of it still burns in the silence.
“I’m saying it takes two to tango. Unless he forced you, and I know damn well he didn’t, you were right there with him.
You both made this baby. You both lit this fire.
Don’t stand here and act like you didn’t strike the match too. ”
Tears blur my vision, hot and unrelenting. I hate him for saying it out loud, for forcing me to face the truth I’ve been clawing to bury. My father huffs, clearly annoyed, but doesn’t argue.
Landon sighs, dragging a hand down his face, softer now.
“You can scream at him all you want, Quinny. You can even believe he ruined your life. But deep down? You know that’s not true.
And when the dust settles, you’re gonna have to live with the fact that you pushed away the one person who’d walk through fire for you. ”
His words hollow me out, leaving me raw and trembling. I want to argue, to scream, to throw something—anything—to drown out the echo of Beck’s footsteps fading from my life.
But all I can do is stand there, clutching my stomach, the weight of my choices pressing down until I can barely breathe.