I watch the brothers now, at the end of the bed, sparring back and forth. Words come out that I have no idea about. It’s like there’s a private war raging, one I’ve never seen erupt between them. Emily walks in at the sound of it, Gabby on her heels.
“Besides, I’ve forgiven her for that,” Nathan snaps suddenly, just about stopping Quinn’s mouth from continuing. “Give me a fucking break, too.”
The volley of language makes me remember the funny look that passed between him and Emily on the boat, some show of contrition between them perhaps.
“What, like all of a couple of hours ago? Because you had to shoot Andreas and suddenly know what it must be like?” Quinn steps up to Nathan, his fists clenching at his side. “It was fucking two years ago, Nate, and now you sweep it under the rug?”
“I’m sorry for that, but. . .” He backs away from his brother, unable to finish the sentence, and turns to Emily instead. “I am. Truly. But please, you have to see it from my view.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Nate,” she says quietly. “Really. It’s done now. I’m just sorry you had to do what you did, too.”
“Andreas deserved it.”
“So did Josh,” she whispers.
I’m lost. And all the raised voices are adding to the pounding in my head. “Who’s Josh?” I ask, looking to Emily.
Before she answers, she seeks Quinn who puffs out a sigh before nodding and going back out into the lounge.
“He was their brother. I shot him, not long after I met Quinn.” Her words are short and don’t leave room for further question, not that I need all that much.
“Are we done with all the fucking family drama? We don’t even know if she’s our goddamn sister,” Quinn grumbles, stalking back to the chair at the side of the room.
I’ve had enough of this.
“Enough. You can question my actions as much as you like, but I am your father’s daughter. There’s plenty of people here who can take my DNA. Hell, have my blood and test it, Quinn, if you need proof.” My body rises further up to try sitting upright. I won’t be questioned on this one thing. Screw him. “I think I’ve done enough to show you who I am, and I don’t need anything from you. Money, security, it’s never been about that. My vengeance has been fuelled by years of hate, and that just isn’t in me anymore.” It feels empty now, like it’s somehow been taken from me in these last few weeks. My eyes drop to the floor briefly, searching for what I do feel. “It’s gone, Quinn, but that doesn’t give you the right to deny this. This is my life. The life I’ve lived is because I’m a Cane. You don’t get to take that from me,” I puff out, still trying to sit up and gain some fucking height in this room.
Bad idea. I wince as pain flashes up my side, eyes tearing up at the feel of it. Quinn jumps out of the chair, as if he’s thinking about helping.
“What, suddenly worried about me now?” I huff at him, my eyes like slits from the pain.
“Oh man, you don’t need a fucking test. She’s a female version of you, Quinn,” Nathan says, grinning at the end of the bed, amused at his comparison.
“Am I fuck?” we both chime together.
Both Emily and Gabby stifle a laugh. I don’t see the funny side, though. I don’t know what to feel at the moment. My emotions, feelings and thoughts are running wild. All the years of knowing exactly what to do, how to do it, and now, when I need it most, clinical proficiency seems to have abandoned me.
“I think Miss Cane and I need a few minutes alone,” Quinn mumbles quietly.
“Winters,” I snarl, wincing yet again at the pain. “I may be Cane by blood, but I’ll never be Cane by name.”
“Whatever you say. Make sure you rest up, Hope. Kick him out if you need space,” Nathan says, smiling. I soften my own features to meet his eyes, knowing he’s accepted me without the need for any official blood work, and watch as he ushers the other two women out with him. It’s an odd feeling. My brows knit together as I try to figure out if I’m happy about it or not. No. Happy is a long way off what I feel.
Quinn sets to pacing. His eyes don’t rest on me for long. Every return trip from the door he glances to me before looking elsewhere. He weighs me up as he twists those dice of his around in his hands. Gone is the man who was open to my flirting that first night.
“If you knew about us, why didn’t you ever come to find us?” he grumbles his question.
Where to start with that one? “When I became old enough—aware enough—I looked after my mother through her heartbreak and then through her illness. I felt it was my duty, even after everything she did to me or made me do. When she died, I didn’t want to find you and be a family. I’ve explained this. I wanted you to feel how I felt.”
“And you assumed that since we were the sons, we had it easy? Everything we ever wanted. No hardships in our lives?”
“Your mother didn’t pimp you out when you were fifteen to pay for her next bottle of booze.”
“No, she didn’t, but your father didn’t put a gun in your hand and make you kill someone around that age either.”
“Touché,” I whisper, looking at him.
Somehow, I never considered that they would have different demons to fight than I did. I stare at him for a minute, imagining a young boy in the middle of that life they had. Mother always went on about his perfect family, but that he loved her, so she knew it was the right thing to continue the affair. She wanted to be his mistress, said there was no love in their home.
