Quinn #3
"No," I agree. "They've just threatened you so many times they've gotten it out of their systems."
"I wouldn't go that far."
I laugh. Lorenzo's gaze lingers on me for a moment longer than necessary, and the smile slowly fades from my face. Because there is something different about him today, something lighter, and I have a feeling we're finally about to talk about it.
"Why did you go to my parents?" I ask quietly.
His gaze meets mine. "You know why."
"I know what you told me." I set my tea down. "I want to know why."
For a moment he doesn't answer, but then he leans back in his chair. "Because your father put his hands on you on our wedding day, and because I came home to find out you'd stood through the entire ceremony with a head injury and never said a word."
I look away, shame eating away at me. I was too weak to get him to stop.
"Quinn." I look back at him, and his gaze doesn't leave mine. "You've spent your whole life cleaning up messes that weren't yours to fix." His jaw tightens. "And nobody ever held the people responsible accountable for any of it."
My chest aches, and I draw in a slow breath. Then I shake my head. "You didn't have to do that."
His expression doesn't change. "Yes, I did."
"No, you—"
"Your father put his hands on my wife."
The words stop me cold. Not Quinn, not your daughter.
My wife.
Lorenzo leans forward slightly. "Maybe everyone else in your life accepted it. Maybe they looked the other way." His jaw tightens. "I won't."
Something shifts inside my chest, something dangerous, because I believe him. I shouldn't, but I do.
"What happened?" I ask quietly.
His gaze never leaves mine. "When I got there?"
I nod.
Lorenzo is silent for a second, but then he tells me everything. He tells me about Da trying to justify it.
I close my eyes because, of course, he did. There's always a reason, always an explanation, but never an apology.
When I open my eyes again, Lorenzo is watching me carefully. "Then what happened?"
His jaw tightens. "I broke his hand."
I stare at him, the bluntness of it shouldn't surprise me, yet somehow it still does. "You actually broke it?"
"Yes."
"Jesus."
"He should consider himself lucky."
I don't know whether to laugh or be horrified, possibly both.
"And Mam?"
Something dark flashes across his face, the humor disappears immediately.
"You hit her," I whisper, not horrified, just still in shock that he did it.
"I did."
I stare at him.
My entire life, Mam has been untouchable, because nobody ever challenged her.
Nobody ever stood in front of her and said enough. Not for me, never for me. And yet this man had walked into my childhood home and done exactly that.
Why? Why had he cared enough to do it?
The question must show on my face because something shifts in Lorenzo's expression.
He looks away first. "I should have—" He stops and drags a hand across his jaw. "There are a lot of things I should have done differently. The list is long. I'm aware of it."
My chest tightens.
He holds my gaze. "I'm not going to sit here and make you listen to me catalogue my mistakes. That helps me, not you." His voice is quieter now. "But I want you to know that I know them."
I look at him for a long moment. "I kept waiting for you to stop believing me," I say. The words come out softer than I intended.
He holds my gaze. "I'm not making that mistake again."
I breathe. Something in my chest does a slow complicated thing that I let happen without trying to name it.
"Thank you," I say. "For today. For my brothers coming. I think you had something to do with that."
"Daithí said he was coming regardless."
I grin, that is totally something Daithi would say. "But you didn't stop it."
He looks at me. "Why would I stop it?"
I don't know how to answer that, because my entire life has been filled with conditions and permissions, with other people deciding who and where I was allowed to go and see.
"You wouldn't," I say softly.
"No." And the certainty in his voice settles somewhere deep inside my chest.
I read in bed while he works. The lamp on my side of the room casts a warm pool of light over the pages, and I'm finally getting through a chapter I've been trying to finish all day when the mattress dips beside me.
Before I can react, Lorenzo reaches over and takes the book from my hands. I look up at him when he folds the corner of the page carefully, closes the book, and sets it on the nightstand.
I narrow my eyes. "Lorenzo."
His mouth twitches as he looks at me, really looks at me, and suddenly I'm very aware that we're alone.
"Quinn," he replies, his voice thick and gravelly.
I look at him for a moment, then I close the distance and press my lips against his. Because I'm tired of overthinking everything. I'm tired of being scared of getting it wrong. Because I want to.
He goes still, then his hand cups the side of my face and he kisses me back, slow and unhurried. It’s like we've finally stopped fighting our way toward this.
I tuck myself against his side and let him pull me closer.
The room is quiet, the house is quiet, and for the first time since I became Quinn Mariano, my mind is too.