Chapter Eight
Quinn
T itus’s deep voice echoes in the hospital room as he reads Pride and Prejudice to me. Mom had brought a couple of books from home, and I’d read two or three chapters before my eyes had grown too tired to stay open. At first, I only asked him to read it as a joke. I figured it would break the ice since he’d come in wearing his signature scowl, though his eyes softened when they met mine.
It’s been several weeks since Titus has joined one of our family dinners. I’m beginning to think maybe Cyrus is right—I will never admit it to him—about Titus. He seems grumpier than normal.
When I asked him to read, he didn’t hesitate. Titus picked up Pride and Prejudice , flipped it open to where my Mr. Darcy bookmark was placed, and began reading as if this was a normal routine for us.
I clap my hand over my mouth to keep the laughter in as he uses various voices, including a high-pitched, British accent, to make Elizabeth’s lines sound more feminine. He continues to change voices throughout the entire reading. It’s hilarious and sweet, the perfect thing to keep my mind off of being in the hospital.
When I woke up to find myself in the ER, I’d been terrified. All I could think about was when Dad and Lois were here—at this very hospital—and how Dad never came back home.
Once my head had finally cleared enough to form a coherent sentence, I asked what happened, and Mom and Lois laid into me. Dr. Murray smiled at me sympathetically while Mom cried and Lois scolded me for not telling them about the diabetes diagnosis.
I was thankful when Chad had taken Lois out to get some air. I still wasn’t sure about my new brother-in-law, but getting my nagging, older sister out of my room moved him up a peg in my book.
The door to my room might as well be a revolving one. People haven’t stopped filtering in ever since I moved here from the ER.
Julie showed up earlier, and when her dark green eyes landed on me, guilt settled on my chest making it difficult to breathe. She hadn’t scolded me verbally, which was scarier than if she’d yelled at me for ten minutes like Lois had done. Julie wasn’t usually one to remain silent. Unless she was too hurt and angry to speak. She probably would have said something before leaving if Cyrus hadn’t stopped by to see me.
When he entered the room with his typical charming smile, her entire posture stiffened and her lips dipped into a frown.
Julie leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “That’s my cue, dear. Love ya,” she whispered.
Standing, she gave a curt nod to Cyrus who was too busy scrolling on his phone to notice. Julie glanced at me, rolled her eyes, and practically slammed the door on her way out.
Cyrus jumped slightly, looking up from his phone. “Friend of yours?”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “You mean Julie? The girl we both went to high school with? The one you’ve known since kindergarten?”
He tilted his head as if he was trying to picture who I was talking about. Finally, he shrugged and changed the topic. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I’ve tried figuring out their issues with one another since moving to Peach Beach, but it’s the one thing that Julie refuses to talk about. And any time I asked Titus, he’d frown and tell me it wasn’t his place to talk about it.
I prepared myself for another onslaught of scolding from Cyrus, but bless his heart, he didn’t spend his time chiding me. He kept everything upbeat and light in a way only Cyrus could do.
I’d tried telling Mom there was no need for everyone to take time out of their busy schedules to baby me. Mom wouldn’t hear of it. She said the rotation had been Bram and the twins’s idea. Tears burned the backs of my eyes at their thoughtfulness. Bram might be quiet—not as quiet as Titus—and Cyrus might have come out of the womb with a flirty smile on that handsome face of his, but the Baxter brothers are the most caring men I’ve ever met.
Seriously, what other man would be sitting here reading Pride and Prejudice to me, complete with various character voices? I have suspicions Titus enjoys the distraction reading brings. If he’s busy reading then I can’t poke and pry into his life.
A knock sounds at the door before Bram’s head pops inside. Titus lets out an audible sigh of relief, and I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m sorry, Ty. Is it that hard to have me for company?”
He grumbles something as he leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Get better soon, Q. Okay?” His voice is firm and demanding. Maybe he missed his calling as a drill sergeant.
I do a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
The corner of his mouth tugs up slightly. I count it as another win.
Titus and Bram talk for a moment before Titus says goodbye and shuts the door behind him. I glance up with a smile at Bram, but he isn’t looking at me. His hands are stuffed in his jeans pockets, and his eyes are darting around the sparse hospital room. Shuffling his feet, he seems to be debating with himself whether or not to take the seat beside my bed that Titus vacated.
I chuckle. “I don’t bite, you know.” Is he afraid I’ll ask him to read where Titus had left off?
The corner of his lip lifts in a small smile. He laughs softly, but it sounds odd. Forced. “I know, Q,” he replies quietly.
“I hate hospitals, too,” I tell him, realizing what must be bothering him.
Bram inclines his head in my direction. “I haven’t been in a hospital room since . . . ” he lets the sentence drop off.
“Since Dad died,” I finish for him, my heart twisting with pain.
He breathes out a long sigh. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bringing up painful memories while you’re trying to recover.”
“No. It’s okay. And it’s not anything that I haven’t already thought of since I woke up.”
“How are you feeling today?”
And here it comes. “Better.” I offer a small smile, hoping he’ll drop the topic. I don’t want another lecture from someone. “I think they’ll let me go today.” Or I’ll leave AMA—against medical advice. There is no way I can afford another night here. Heck, I can’t afford the night I’ve already spent. But seeing as I wasn’t functioning properly yesterday, I’d had no choice in the matter.
He gives me a skeptical look, his eyebrow arching. “The doctor seemed to think you would be staying at least a couple of nights.”
My jaw tightens as a burst of frustration pours over me. “Well, the doctor isn’t the one paying the bills.”
Bram’s eyes widen for a moment, then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He seems nervous. “What happens when you end up right back here because you didn’t follow the doctor’s orders?” If it was Lois I would bristle at the question, but Bram’s tone isn’t accusing. Simply curious.
Dipping my chin, I take a deep breath. “I don’t know,” I whisper, meeting his eyes.
“You’re not alone in this, Q.” His intense gaze makes me squirm. I hate being the center of attention. I’d much rather be in the background watching and listening while others have the spotlight.
He’s still hovering above me, adding to the tension. “Bram, would you please sit down? You’re making me a nervous wreck.”
“Oh, umm . . . sorry.” He takes a seat in the chair beside my bed. Bouncing his leg up and down, he glances around the room. He’s like a caged animal ready to flee as soon as the door flies open.
“Listen, Bram. I’m thankful that you all have come to visit me today and keep me company, but I’m okay if you need to go. I know you probably have work piled up. You don’t have to stay here—”
“Marry me,” he interjects, his gaze locking on mine, sending me into a stunned silence.
My jaw drops open as my eyes widen with shock. Did he say what I think he said? Is my sugar spiking again? Is it causing me to hallucinate? He can’t be serious.
What is even happening right now?
“Huh?” I ask, confusion evident in my tone. I know I misheard him.
“Marry me.”
Umm . . . guess I heard right. But . . . what!? Me? Marry Bram?
Most women would be falling all over themselves to accept his offer. I'm not blind. Bram is handsome. More than handsome with his stormy gray eyes, dark blond hair, and the short beard shadowing his jaw. More than that, he’s steady and kind.
But he’s also . . . Bram.
I’d be lying if I said I’ve never looked at him and wondered what-if? Briefly. A very, very brief, what-if. I’d also be lying if I said I’ve never looked at Cyrus or Titus and wondered the same. The brothers all have hearts of gold. They truly care for others and would give you the shirts off their backs if you asked.
I mentally shake my head to keep out the thoughts of any of the brothers handing over their shirts. Have I mentioned that they’re all extremely handsome? Let’s just say the Baxter genes have been really good to them.
Regardless of having a moment or two over the years where a fleeting thought of “what-if” came to mind, I’ve never genuinely considered the idea with any of them. Cyrus is too flirty. Too much of a jokester. Titus on the other hand is too dry. Too grumbly—even though I know he isn’t that way deep inside. And Bram . . .
Bram is a balance of both, seeming to encompass the best qualities of the twins. He knows how to laugh and crack a joke. Yet, he’s steady and solemn when the occasion calls for it.
How have I suddenly found myself in a Goldilocks situation? Cyrus is too hot. Titus is too cold. Bram is . . . just right?
No. No. No.
I won’t compare them. They’re all unique, sweet, and fun in their own ways.
Maybe Bram is trying to get me to laugh. Cyrus is usually the prankster, but Bram has been known to help Cyrus on occasion. Yes, that’s it. It makes more sense than him seriously asking me to marry him.
Laughter bubbles up in my throat, and I release it in a rush of relief as I inch up and glance around the room. “Is Cyrus hiding somewhere recording this?” The door is shut and there’s nowhere to hide. I purse my lips. “Did he hide a camera here? This may be the lamest prank he’s ever pulled.”
Suddenly, Bram’s hand grasps mine. He squeezes, his gaze locking on to our bound hands. Flicking his eyes back to me, he takes a deep breath. “Quinn”—he says, his tone low and as serious as I’ve ever heard him—“this isn’t a prank.”
“What?” My heart comes up to my throat, and I jerk my hand out of his. “What are you talking about?”
Bram rubs his hand slowly down his face. “I’m messing this all up.”
“Abraham Baxter, what is going on?” I never use his full name or speak in such a panicked, snippy tone. Whatever is happening has me completely off-kilter.
“Quinn, I want you to take a few days and pray about marrying me,” he replies, the calm in his voice a stark contrast to my racing thoughts.
“Ma-marrying you?”
He nods, his gaze steady. “Yes.”
My mind is a muddled mess. This does not make sense. “Wh-why?” My hands tremble as I twist them in my lap. I wish I had the energy to run away from this entire strange and awkward situation, but it’s not like there’s anywhere for me to go.
Bram leans forward and gently pulls my hand back into his, interlocking our fingers as if we’d done this a million times. A slight gasp escapes my mouth, and my cheeks burn. Bram studies our entwined hands for a moment, his thumb stroking softly back and forth over my palm. My heart races, but I can’t tell if it’s from his touch or the absurdity of what he’s asking.
“Quinn, we’ve known each other for years. I know that you are passionate, caring, loyal, and someone who stands for those who can’t. You love God with everything in you, and it shines out in all you do.” He pauses and lifts his gaze to mine again.
A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes fill with tears against my will. Is Bram in love with me? The gentle words he speaks to me are full of respect and promise. I’m still in too much shock to say anything, so he continues.
“I think we both want the same things in life, Quinn. To raise a family here in Peach Beach. To lead a quiet, faithful, and impactful life with the church and the ministry at the housing center. It would be an honor to me if you would allow me to marry you and take care of you for the rest of our lives.”
It’s a beautiful speech, I’ll give him that. Butterflies have come to life and have begun swirling inside. My skin tingles where his thumb is still rubbing intricate patterns across my palm. But as things click into place, anger pulses through my blood. My heartbeat echoes in my ears while my neck and face heat. Yanking my hand out of his grasp, I have the sudden urge to slap him.
“How dare you, Bram,” I seethe, angry tears threatening to take over. “I am not a charity case. You can’t just ask me to marry you when you don’t care about me in that way.” The last part comes out on a sob I don’t mean to release. I suck in a deep breath to keep from breaking down in front of him. “I-I just can’t even look at you right now. Please, go away.”
Burying my face in my hands, I squeeze my eyes shut. Does everyone think I’m so incapable of taking care of myself that I need a knight in shining armor to swoop in and save me?
I wait to hear the scraping of the chair against the floor and the door shut, but after several moments, I know he’s still there, waiting patiently for me.
“I won’t put myself in a loveless marriage, Bram,” I whisper between my fingers.
“Q, I never said it would be loveless.” His quiet reply has me lifting my head. Gray eyes meet mine, an array of emotions running through them as he grapples for words.
“Are you saying you’re in love with me, Bram? Because if so, I didn’t hear that part in your little speech,” I reply, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
“Are you in love with me, Quinn?”
Glaring at him, I scoff. “No. You know that.”
“But you do love me. Right?”
Raising an eyebrow, I tilt my head. “What are you getting at?”
“Quinn, you know I care for you. You know I love you. Just like you love me.”
“Loving someone isn’t the same as being in love,” I reply in a small voice.
Cocking his head to the side, his jaw flexes as he seems to choose his next words carefully. “It’s a start, though. Don’t you think?”
Unable to think of a response, I remain silent.
“Look, Quinn, I’m not asking for an answer today. But,” he pauses, licking his lips, and taking a deep breath, “I’ve been praying about it all night long, and I want to continue to spend a few days praying about it, knowing you’re praying about it as well. What do you think?”