Chapter 42 Quinn
My patience was wearing thin. We’d returned to the station over two hours ago and yet we still hadn’t departed back to our families.
Forde, along with Isla, was one of only four first aiders on the island, so they’d called one of our two island doctors out to check us over.
I’d bumped my head when the boat capsized and had a few bruises here and there from where it righted itself again.
But Dr. Stornoway was fairly certain I hadn’t been concussed and told me to be vigilant if I had any symptoms.
The reason we hadn’t been able to go home yet was because the police needed us to secure the fishing boat for their arrival.
It turned out the crew were claiming to be victims of human trafficking.
We shouldn’t have known those details, but PC William let it slip.
The crew said they were illegal immigrants who had been lured to the UK with promises of a job and a place to stay, and they’d been intimidated by criminals into crewing a fishing boat as a cover for drug trafficking.
They’d asked Leth Sholas Police to check the boat, and by the expression on DI Paul Young’s face when he strode back into the lifeboat station, they had found drugs.
“No one touches it. Once the storm passes, a detective and his team from the mainland will be over with forensics to deal with it. All right?”
While it was concerning to know our waters were being used in such a way, I desperately wanted to get home. “Can we go now, Paul?”
“Aye. Brave job tonight, people. You saved three lives. In more ways than one.”
Exhausted, I bid Ramsay, Tierney, and Akiva good night as I followed Forde out of the lifeboat station.
The worst of the wind had thankfully calmed, though the rain still fell in slanted sheets.
We braced against it as we hurried to our respective vehicles.
Forde pulled me into a hug, and I gave his nape a quick squeeze.
Maybe tomorrow we’d be able to talk about how fucking terrifying that experience was. We gave each other a knowing nod and left to go home and crash.
Except I couldn’t crash quite yet.
I drove slowly through the bad weather, not just because of the rain but because I was drained. If I’d had to drive farther than the twenty minutes to my house, I wouldn’t have done it for fear of falling asleep at the wheel.
The relief I felt parking at my house behind Cammie’s Defender was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
I’d barely opened the door when I was attacked by my children and sister.
Angus and Heather clung to me, while Cammie peppered my cheeks with kisses.
Tears streamed down all their faces, and remorse coursed through me for putting them through this.
“I’m all right, I’m all right,” I murmured, brushing my thumbs over Heather’s, then Angus’s cheeks, and then Cammie’s.
I met my sister’s watery gaze. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything to Mum. ”
She shook her head. “Totally oblivious. Has no idea you were out in this.”
“Good.”
Movement behind Cammie had my attention moving past her.
Taran stood distant from us, a haunted look on her face that had me spinning back to one of my worst memories. The day I told her Kiera was pregnant. She’d worn a similar look then. “Mo luaidh,” I gasped out, winded by her expression.
She seemed to shake herself, her smile tremulous. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
The kids had eased away, freeing me to bridge the distance between myself and Taran. I hauled her against me, my embrace probably too tight as I breathed her in.
At first, she was tense but quite quickly, she melted against me, her fingers curling into my jacket, pulling on it as she quietly shook.
“Mo luaidh, I’m here. I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
It was the sound of Heather and Angus arguing that woke me, followed by Cammie not so quietly telling them to hush because I was sleeping.
I didn’t even need to open my eyes to know I was still absolutely exhausted.
Groaning, I pried them open, the light piercing into the room through the cracks in my curtain stinging my tired eyeballs.
My kids whisper-arguing was still loud enough to filter upstairs.
That’s when the smell of bacon hit my nostrils and my stomach grumbled in appreciation.
Last night came back in a flood, and with it the memory of getting into bed with Taran. I turned my head on my pillow and saw the space beside me was empty. Assuming she was downstairs, I sat up, scrubbing a hand over my face. My beard needed a trim.
Limbs heavy, I reluctantly got up and headed into the bathroom to relieve myself and freshen up.
It was too late for Cammie to go home last night, so she’d stayed in my guest room while the kids returned to their respective rooms. I asked Taran to sleep beside me. No funny business. I just wanted to hold her.
She’d quietly complied, but I could sense turmoil emanating from her.
The only thing that stopped me from feeling like absolute shit for putting everyone through last night was knowing we’d saved lives.
Shrugging on pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, I wandered downstairs, following the smell of breakfast into the kitchen. Sure enough, Cammie was at the stove cooking while the kids sat at the island, bickering about who knew what.
“Dad!” Angus hopped off the stool, almost face-planting.
My heart stopped for a second, but my boy caught himself and then threw his whole body at me.
I grunted, wincing as he hit my bruised hip.
“Angus, watch you don’t hurt Dad!” Heather cried indignantly.
“I’m all right, bud.” I bent to kiss the top of his head. His hair was damp and smelled of his shampoo, so Cammie must have already gotten him to shower. “What time is it?” I kept him close as we moved toward the island.
“It’s nearly noon.” Cammie waved a spatula at me. “Full Scottish breakfast for a full Scottish hero?”
I smirked, abashed. “I wouldn’t say no. Thanks.” I looked at Heather and then beyond her to the empty living room. “Where’s Taran?”
Heather’s expression fell and she lowered her eyes to the cup of tea in front of her.
Cammie met my gaze head-on, a frown appearing between her brows. “She left this morning. Said to tell you she needed to check on London.”
Disappointment was chased with a flickering sense of dread.
Last night Taran had barely spoken as we got into my bed. There was a brittleness to her that I’d put down to her worry for me and confusion over where things stood between us.
Remembering that haunted look on her face, however, I worried now that I’d read her wrong.
I’d felt a change in the wind, but perhaps it wasn’t for the better after all.
Call it intuition, call it this connection Taran and I had shared since we were children—a bond that seemed so otherworldly, like it snapped into place between us the moment Taran was born …
I found myself releasing Angus and moving to the sideboard where I’d put my phone on charge before heading to bed.
Tapping on the screen, sure enough, there were several texts from Taran.
My heart started to pound as I swiped to open them.
I’m sorry for not being brave enough to do this face-to-face.
I know you’ll try to fight me on it, and I don’t want to put us through that.
I’m so happy you’re okay, Quinn.
But I can’t do this anymore. We’re over. For good. I’m sorry.
“Fuck!” I launched the phone across the room, and it hit the sofa with a thud.
“Dad!” Heather cried.
“Quinn, what’s wrong?”
“Dad?”
No.
She didn’t get to do this.
We weren’t going to end us over a fucking text message.
I wanted her to look me in the eye and tell me she didn’t love me.
“I’m going out.” I turned to my concerned family. “I’m fine. I just …” I looked to Cammie. “I have to do something. Can you watch the kids?”
“Quinn, you need to eat something first.”
I snatched up a slice of toast from the pile on the island, tearing off a piece with the savagery of my fury before storming out.
“Is it about Taran?” I heard Heather ask.
“Most likely,” my sister replied. “Here are your eggs, Angus. Your dad’s okay. Don’t look so worried.”
I grimaced as I hurried upstairs, angry at myself for making my kids anxious all over again.
This time I’d lay the blame for that at Taran’s door.
Breaking it off with me via text!
She’d lost her fucking mind if she thought I’d let that stand.