Chapter Seventeen
Bram
A ll things considered, tonight could have gone worse. I’m glad I’d already talked to Dad. And I figured Mom and Ada would be thrilled once they got over the shock of the sudden news. I expected Cyrus and Titus to be concerned. For good reason. They know how I feel—used to feel—about Lois.
I’m still reeling a little from Lois’s outburst. Grayson hadn’t taken long to stand up for Quinn, and I’m thankful because I’d been too stunned to speak. I can’t believe Lois accused Quinn and me of sleeping together. There’s more to it than that, too. Some of the things Grayson threw back at Lois had me scratching my head. It almost sounded as if Lois had—I shook my head. No, I didn’t need those thoughts rolling around inside my already confused and muddled mind. Besides, it doesn’t matter. Quinn is my focus now. And after seeing Lois’s behavior the last couple of days, I’m feeling more annoyed with her than ever before.
I groan at the sight of Titus’s truck and Cyrus’s Corvette in my driveway. What are they doing here?
Titus sits on my front steps while Cryus paces in front of him, throwing up his hands every now and then. He looks angry, and I’m not in the mood to deal with an angry Cyrus. Titus is harder to read, but if he’s angry too—my jaw tightens as I open my truck door.
Cyrus turns toward me, crossing his arms, his eyes boring into me.
“What are you doing here?” I try to smile, but my face won’t cooperate and my frown deepens. Good grief, am I turning into Titus?
“I want to know what’s going on. For real,” Cyrus snaps, storming over until he’s eye-to-eye with me.
My gaze locks with Titus, but he merely shrugs. Yup. I’m on my own.
“Quinn and I are getting married.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m not sure what else to say.”
Titus snorts while Cyrus continues to stare at me in the most unnerving way. “That isn’t going to fly with us because we both know that not two weeks ago, you fancied yourself in love with Lois!”
I snicker. “Fancied? Have you been spending all your free time with Lord Chadwick?”
Cyrus and Titus each lift their left eyebrow and stare at me. It’s disconcerting when they give the same facial expressions at the same time.
“Lord Chadwick?” Titus asks.
Crap.
I clear my throat. “Chad.”
Cyrus’s anger fades away as he bursts out laughing while Titus snickers. The tightness in my shoulders loosens. If they’re laughing they won’t be beating me up. At least, I hope not.
“I’ll never be able to look at him the same way,” Cyrus says, still chuckling. “But” —he wipes the smile off, his face growing somber—“we do need to talk about you and Quinn.”
Sighing, I glance at Mrs. Graham’s house. All the lights inside are off. She’s probably asleep. Hopefully. Still, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as if she’ll jump out of the large bushes by her house at any moment and yell, “Boo!”
I don’t want to invite my brothers inside. There won’t be any witnesses if they end up offing me. But I also don’t want to stand out in the open where Mrs. Graham can hear every word we say.
“Come on. Let’s go inside.”
As soon as the door shuts behind us, Cyrus opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “Do you really think I would do something to intentionally hurt Quinn?” I meet each of their eyes, letting the question settle in the air around us.
“No,” Titus replies and then glances at Cyrus.
Cyrus rubs a hand over his face. “No, I don’t. But—”
“It’s an arranged marriage. Or marriage of convenience. Or whatever it’s called nowadays.”
They blink at me, their jaws dropping open. Honestly, I should get an award for being the first person to ever leave Cyrus speechless. I want to laugh as he opens and closes his mouth several times. I keep a straight face though. Otherwise, they’ll think I’m joking.
“For the insurance?” Titus’s eyes widen as he connects the dots. Cyrus’s mouth drops open even more, and his gaze bounces between Titus and me. Still, he doesn’t speak. Can’t speak, I think. I glance down at my watch. A full two minutes. Heck, I need to win two awards for this.
“Yes. She needs the insurance. This isn’t going away. It’s not something we can have a fundraiser for and then she’s good to go. It’s for the rest of her life. She needs a permanent solution.” I shrug, hoping they’ll drop the topic.
Cyrus shakes his head, his mouth still opening and shutting as he tries to formulate a response.
“What’s in it for you?” Titus crosses his arms as he leans against the wall.
“I’d be helping a friend. We can provide companionship for one another—” That finally breaks through to Cyrus and he snorts before mumbling under his breath, “Oh yeah, I’m sure.”
I glare at him. “Why don’t you marry her then, Cyrus?”
He shakes his head. “One, because this is a dumb, stupid idea. Two, I’m . . . uh . . . talking to someone.”
Titus almost chokes. “Yeah, Cy. Sure you are.”
Cyrus narrows his eyes, shooting Titus a look that would leave most people squirming. Titus simply grins—which is saying something since he isn’t the smiling type. “Why do you say it like that?” Cyrus crosses his arms, still glaring at Titus.
Shrugging, Titus scratches his bearded jaw. “Nothing personal, Cy. It’s just a fact you aren’t the relationship type.”
“Like you are?” Cyrus retorts.
“I didn’t say I was either. But at least I own it.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, Cyrus turns back to me. “Okay, we’re getting off track here. My point is that you can’t marry Quinn. You shouldn’t marry her.”
The words hit me hard, and I hate how much they hurt. I turn and walk toward the kitchen. This conversation isn’t going at all like I want it to. They trail behind me, remaining silent as I open the fridge and grab a bottle of water for each of us. After taking a long drink, I lean back against the counter and level a look at both of them. “Regardless of what either of you thinks, I’m committed to her. To this. I’ve prayed about it. She’s prayed about it. Dad’s pray—”
“Dad knows?” Cyrus practically yells.
“I went to Dad before doing anything.”
“Did you tell him the truth?”
“Of course, I told him.”
Titus shakes his head, his lips dipping. I don’t care what Cyrus thinks about it. He’s doing a lot better, but he can still be a loose cannon. But Titus is the steadiest one out of all of us.
“Ty?” I study his face to gauge his reaction.
“What’d he say?”
“He thought it made sense and could work. He told me to pray about it and ask her to pray about it before making a decision. We both did that.”
“Yet, you’ve been in love with Lois for years.” Cyrus scoffs and begins pacing the kitchen.
“Why does that matter now? She’s married. She has a husband. This has nothing to do with Lois.”
Cyrus stops, raising a challenging brow. “How’s Quinn going to feel when she finds out she was your second choice?”
My jaw tightens. I glance at Titus for some backup, but he’s waiting for my answer to Cyrus’s question. “She won’t.” My words are firm, but it causes a stone to settle into my stomach. “Besides, it’s more complicated than that.”
Titus frowns and lets out a frustrated sigh while Cyrus storms out, muttering under his breath.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Do you think I’m crazy?” Sticking my hands in my pocket, I wait patiently for Titus’s response. Titus never says much, but when he does, everyone listens. Well, except for Cyrus. But he doesn’t listen to anyone.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he replies evenly.
“But?” I press.
“If you hurt her, I’ll be the first in line to take you down.”
I huff. “I’m not going to hurt her, Ty.”
“You’re an idiot if you think she’s never going to find out about Lois. Might be tomorrow. Might be a year from now. Might be ten years. But sooner or later, something will happen, and she will find out.” He smacks a hand on my shoulder and squeezes hard, staring me straight in the eyes as he does so. “Tell her now and you might have a chance.”
He grabs his bottle of water and heads to the door without a backward glance.
“What about Cyrus?”
“I’ll talk some sense into him.”
“Good luck with that,” I retort.
“It’ll be fine. All I have to do is promise him front-row seats to watch you fumble this entire thing up.”
I throw my water bottle at his retreating back, hitting him square between the shoulder blades. He doesn’t even flinch.
Locking the doors after my brothers leave, all of the doubts from the past few weeks and the questions from our families surround me like a heavy, dense fog.
Is Ty right? Is it only a matter of time before I screw this up?