Extended Epilogue
QUINN
“Quinn! Dinner!” Mom calls from the foot of the stairs.
Closing my math textbook with a thump, I appreciate the break from my studies. Junior year is really kicking my butt, and while I’m loving my science class, I think my brain might explode if I have to do another equation for precalculus.
The house is a little too quiet for my taste these days, considering Killian’s living in his own apartment downtown for the summer and Lance moved out a few years back. I miss the noisy ruckus of too many brothers filling the house.
But even Henry’s off at college now, graduated last spring. Which leaves me as the only child that stands between my parents and the term “empty nesters.” I know they’re dreading it. They like a noisy house as much as I do. Which is why they try to coerce Killian and Lance to come home for family dinners as often as possible.
And to my intense excitement, as I make my way downstairs, I can hear Killian’s playful lilt echoing from the front entrance of our family home in Brooklyn Heights.
“Killian, is that you?” I call, racing the last few steps down to the hall and rounding the corner to find my favorite big brother at the front door.
Then my heart skips a beat as Lance’s towering form follows him inside. At six foot five, Lance is nearly tall enough for the top of his head to brush the door frame as he passes through it. And his broad shoulders have muscled up after years of competitive sports and working out that he all but fills a doorway every time he steps through it.
He might be the single most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, with thick brown hair and deep blue eyes that never miss a thing. And it might be wrong to have a crush on someone who’s as good as family—like a brother to Killian if not a son to my parents. But for as long as I can remember, I’ve held the dream that someday I might marry Lance Knight.
Only, I’m pretty sure he thinks of me, at best, as Killian’s annoying little sister. At worst, he thinks of me as his own annoying little sister. Which is why I’ve safely locked that pipedream away in the same category as my hope of someday marrying the Dread Pirate Roberts—aka Westley from the Princess Bride .
Still, a girl can dream.
“Hey, Quinny!” Killian says, flashing his charming, dimpled smile. “If it isn’t my favorite annoying kid sister,” he teases.
“I’m your only sister,” I say crisply, but that does little to deter him.
Heat radiates in my cheeks as my older brother scoops me up and gives me a twirl, like I used to love when I was a little girl. But I’m sixteen now, and I desperately wish I could be seen as something other than a child. Especially when Lance is around.
However, when Killian finally sets me down after I give several vocal protests to my mistreatment, Lance hardly seems to notice. His typical silent, brooding scowl is in place—that look that both reminds me of the past that haunts him and the reason why so many people find him intimidating.
Which is why his work with my father is a perfect fit. He and Killian are creating all new kinds of trouble around town making a name for themselves in Dad’s chain of command. And from what I hear, they’ve both earned plenty of respect for whatever it is they’re doing in the business—a business Dad seems to think I’m better off knowing nothing about.
That’s fine with me though. I’m not really interested in getting into shipping. I intend to be a nurse after I’m done with school. I want to put my interest in biology to good use. And health care seems like the best way to do that.
“Boys! You’re home!” Mom calls affectionately from the kitchen. “I thought your father said you’d be working late.”
“And miss homemade lasagna? I don’t think so,” Killian says, tousling my hair for good measure in case I didn’t feel enough like a child.
“Well, come sit down. There’s plenty,” Mom says. Her smile is always that much wider when Killian and Lance come home. I know she misses the days when she had a full house of five energetic boys on top of my far less noisy presence.
And as the youngest—and only girl—I just can’t live up to that whirlwind energy.
Dad’s already sitting at the head of the table, a subtle frown creasing his freckled brow as he reads something off his phone.
“You read the report Vince sent us yet?” he asks Killian as soon as we enter the dining room.
“No work talk at dinner, please,” Mom insists, giving Dad a pointed look.
“Right, sorry, Mary.” Then, when she turns toward the kitchen to bring in the lasagna, he makes a face in our direction to indicate her rule is a silly one.
It makes me laugh, and Killian chuckles, but Lance remains silent, his expression inscrutable as he takes his usual spot across the table from me.
Warmth pools in my cheeks when our eyes meet, and I know it’s ridiculous to have a physical reaction when I’m around him—especially after I grew up with him around the house. But my crush has only seemed to get more unmanageable over time. I just really, genuinely hope the family hasn’t picked up on it.
Because I’m sure if Killian found out, there would be no end to the hard time he would give me.
“Here we go,” Mom says, using hot pads to set the casserole dish of lasagna in the center of the table. “Help yourselves.”
We do, each taking turns to pass the food around the table, and Dad and Killian fall naturally into a conversation about work despite Mom’s protests.
“How’s school, Quinn?” Lance asks, his Mediterranean blue eyes finding mine across the table.
Fresh heat pools in my cheeks at the unexpected attention—unexpected not just because Lance rarely focuses on me specifically but because he rarely speaks at all. And my heart flutters when he says my name.
“It’s good,” I say breathily. “Hard but good.”
Lance nods. “Junior year normally is,” he confirms.
And while I know that will probably be the extent of our conversation for the evening, it’s more of a conversation than he has with anyone on the regular—even Killian.
Attraction flares in my chest, quickly followed by a deep and aching longing. Lance might just be the most perfect man I’ve ever known, but I know we’ll never be together. Because as much as I’d like to flatter myself into thinking his question shows interest in me, he probably just thinks of me as the annoying kid sister.
And my heart sinks. Because I don’t see how I’ll ever break out of that image when Killian keeps putting me back in that slot.