Chapter 32
Swinging from the Family Tree
Surreal. WHAT OTHER WORD could describe today?
Quinn stood in his kitchen, opening a bottle of water, trying to act as if his father standing beside his mother at the counter was the most natural thing in the world.
He failed miserably. He pushed a cleansing breath through his lungs and took a swig.
Sarah had ducked out after introductions to shower and rest, which was exactly what she should be doing.
As much as his mind was occupied with the scene in front of him, a chunk of it was stretched out with Sarah on her bed.
Was she okay? Was she freaked out? Did she need his help? Should he check on her?
His father cleared his throat, yanking Quinn front and center. “This must be a shock, me being here.”
Quinn infused his voice with as much casualness as he could muster. “A little. Mom said it’d be a couple of days before you showed up.”
“I landed a few hours ago.” Slightly strained, his father’s voice was no less commanding than it always had been.
“I’d planned to lay low for a day, but I changed my mind and came straight from the airport instead.
” With a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, his dad glanced at his mom. “Your mom said it was okay.”
His mother nodded her agreement, though her face was unreadable.
Quinn tipped the bottle and gulped, surreptitiously studying his dad.
His hair was thinner and grayer, his face creased with more lines, and his complexion was pastier than the healthy hue Quinn remembered.
The vigorous, stern, stoic father of his boyhood had been replaced by a bowed, middle-aged man.
Minutes that felt like hours of awkward silence ticked by. Fuck it. Cut to the chase. “So what’s the plan?” Quinn kept his voice even and his eyes on his dad.
To his surprise, the unyielding knot that usually bunched his father’s brows loosened, softened even, and he dipped his head and shook it.
The simple shift in posture seemed to shrink his stature.
He raised his head and pinned Quinn with an open gaze.
“Your mom wants a divorce. She has every right, but I’m here to talk her out of it. ”
Anger rose from Quinn’s gut. “And that’s what it took to get your attention? Pretty pathetic, Dad.” Had he ever spoken to his dad so boldly? No, but then it hadn’t mattered before.
Frozen in place, his mother darted wary eyes between him and his father.
His dad blew out a breath. “You’re right, Quinn.
It is pathetic, and I’m not proud of it, but I’m here to fix it if I can.
I understand that I’ve got a lot to answer for, to make up for.
Believe it or not, I’ve been wanting to reach out to your mom, you, and your brother for so long, but I didn’t know how.
This pandemic was a wake-up call. It’s driven home how much I’ve missed all of you and how selfish I’ve been with the people who matter most to me.
” He let out a sigh. “Your mom asking for the divorce, well, I guess that was the final kick in the pants I needed to take a hard look and ask myself what the hell I was doing. I decided life’s too short, and I’ve squandered enough.
” He shrugged, and his shoulders dropped.
Whoa! Quinn had never heard his dad say so much at once so candidly. Taken aback, he blurted, “You say you wanted to reach out and didn’t know how, but you were in touch with Ronan regularly.”
His father’s brows drew together in puzzlement, the vertical pleat between them deep. “Did Ronan say that?”
“Yep. He made it sound real cozy.”
The puzzlement turned to sadness, and his dad shook his head. “No. Didn’t happen.”
Thoughts collided in Quinn’s head, and he couldn’t separate them. Uncomfortable as someone skating with a broken blade, he nodded and contemplated his beanbags. From behind him wafted a familiar, comforting smell he wanted to sniff clean out of the air. Sarah.
“Hi.” Sarah stepped beside him and bumped his arm with hers.
Craving her touch, he dangled his sore hand, letting it brush her side.
She seemed to understand what he needed and inched a little closer, her fingers flitting over his.
The simple contact, though not obvious to his mom or dad, puddled warmth in his chest and steadied him.
And there was her fragrance, stronger now that she was close, swirling around him like a protective cloud.
“How you feeling, Sunshine?”
“My head’s a little sore, but otherwise I’m fine.”
He cast her a side glance. She was wearing a T-shirt that read, “I’m Not Short, I’m a Hobbit!” His lips quirked as he pondered asking her about her fuzzy feet, but then he noticed a band of bruises circling her upper arm, and his blood began boiling.
“Jesus fucking Christ! Look what that bastard did to your arm!”
Sarah craned her head to look, and his mom snapped, “Quinn! Swear jar!”
His father gaped at his mother. “He’s a grown man, Liz … and a professional hockey player! You’re making him feed a swear jar?”
He’s a grown man. Quinn liked the sound of that rolling out of his dad’s mouth.
His mom wagged a finger. “Don’t butt in, Mike.”
Quinn chuckled—actually chuckled—and it felt damn good. “It’s okay, Dad. Gotta let Mom think she’s in charge of something.”
“Ha! Amen to that.”
His mother shot Quinn an exaggerated glare that she then transferred to his dad. “You’re both skating on thin ice.” His father had the good sense to look contrite.
“That may be, Mom, but I’m a lot more concerned about Sarah’s arm.” Quinn scanned the bruises, afraid to touch them.
His dad wasn’t afraid. He rounded the counter and took Sarah’s arm gently in his hands. “May I?” She nodded. As he examined the bruises, he said, “The paramedics checked these out, right?”
“And my head. They said I’d be tender in a few spots, but that I was okay.”
“All the same, you need to take it easy.” His dad gave her a smile that reached his eyes, then sidled back beside his mom.
Quinn jabbed his forefinger toward his dad and spoke to Sarah. “What he said.”
She smirked. “Oh goody. Does this mean you’re going to wait on me, Sparky?”
“Don’t push your luck, Sunshine.”
“Aren’t they cute?” his mom whisper-shouted to his dad.
His dad’s eyes bounced between Sarah and him, a hint of amusement tipping his lips, though he didn’t say a word.
Sarah couldn’t tear her gaze from the Hadley father-and-son combo as they cleaned up the kitchen after dinner.
Similar features, similar movements, similar builds, except for Quinn’s extra twenty pounds and two inches.
After meeting Mike, Sarah understood where Quinn got his brown eyes and dimples, though his father didn’t seem to wield them with his son’s easy charm.
She also understood why Quinn had distanced himself from his parents. Right now she sat in a front-row seat, watching a family flailing for some semblance of normalcy.
Tight-lipped, stoic, stiff. Mike looked as though he were holding back a swell of emotions, his eyes betraying a longing when he watched his wife and son. An outsider by choice, he wanted back in, and Sarah couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
Dinner had been strange yet ordinary at the same time.
They’d sat down like a family, but watching Mike and Quinn floundering for common ground had been excruciating.
No amount of cajoling by Liz had smoothed the path.
No, only time and grace would help these two work things out.
Mike took tentative steps during the meal, making feeble offerings of a skinny olive branch, while Quinn dug in with a surliness that made Sarah flinch at times.
While he might argue he was looking out for his mom, Sarah suspected the reasons were more complicated.
Vulnerable, wounded Quinn was striking out like an injured bear.
And how would throwing Ronan into the mix change the dynamic?
Quinn continually shot her concerned glances, and she responded with reassuring smiles. He didn’t need to add worrying about her onto his heap. So she tried her damnedest to project a calm exterior while inside she still quaked like an aspen leaf in a howling wind.
He must have seen through her flimsy facade because when they were alone, he tipped her chin up so she looked at him. “I’d guess by the dark circles under your eyes that you’re exhausted, Sunshine. We need to put you to bed.”
Yeah, he was right. She’d been too bone-weary to change into a suit when Liz had invited her to soak in the hot tub with her and Mike.
She was almost too bone-weary to go to bed—or maybe she was reluctant because tonight of all nights she didn’t want to sleep without Quinn’s arms wrapped around her.
Had she been able, she’d have crawled into them already and snuggled there for the duration.
“Am I going there alone?” She managed a light, almost playful tone.
“Afraid so to start, babe. Until I can get rid of the PUs—”
“PUs?”
“Parental units?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ve never heard that one?”
“Can’t say as I have. Maybe because I only had the one.”
“That reminds me. Have you told your mom about today?”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Hell no! That would mean telling her the whole sordid story. I’d be handing her ammunition—”
“You never told her about Wolf?” His voice rose with disbelief.
She shook her head. “I only told Gage.”
Quinn chewed on his bottom lip.
“What’s zooming through that brain of yours, Sparky?”
His eyes lasered in on hers. “Just wondering if you’ll ever tell your mom about me.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her brain was in flux, thoughts cascading in a torrent, rendering her speechless.