Quinn

My fingers whiten around the steering wheel as I pull Abbott’s Jeep up to his house. Not one word has been spoken since we got in the car.

Even Ace knew to keep his mouth shut.

“You can pick the Jeep up tomorrow,” I mutter to Abbott, who’s got his eyes closed, sitting in the passenger sat beside me. “After you’ve slept off whatever you’re on.”

He looks over at me, lips twisting in a frown. “I’m not—” He stops his lie mid—sentence when I glare at him.

I shake my head in disgust.

Ace gets out of the Jeep, and leans with his forearms on my open window, then gives a small grin. “So I’m guessing date number three isn’t happening?”

“Screw off, man,” Abbott says, tossing a crumpled fast food bag across me, and hitting him in the face.

Ace shrugs, then turns and walks up to Abbott’s house. We both watch as he pulls out a spare key, then disappears inside.

“I told you he wasn’t who you thought,” Abbott says.

“Neither are you, apparently.” My hands are still wrapped around the steering wheel, the engine idling.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I laugh, a hard and bitter sound. “Just get out of the car.”

“Quinn—”

“I’m serious. I can’t even look at you right now.”

“So you’re going to go back to that loser?”

“If I do, it’s none of your business.”

A low snarl-like sound comes from Abbott before he snaps out, “He fucked your brother’s wife.”

I twist my head and glare at him. “And thanks to you the whole town knows.”

He holds my gaze, then says, “Good.”

“Why?” I shake my head at him. “Why tell Kade now? After all these years.”

Rubbing his palms over his face, he looks away. “Because I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“You did a good enough job for him.”

Abbott’s mouth clamps shut.

I don’t say anything else. I can’t. My head and heart are clashing with each other, a torrent of emotions battling against my chest so that I can barely breathe.

Finally, Abbott opens the door and slides out, then shuts it without saying another word.

I take my time driving back. I’m pretty sure my brain has shut down completely. Maybe my emotions have too. Because all I feel is numb. My stupid heart tries to find some justification for what Zee did. But worse than his betrayal is him holding onto the lie all these years.

Six years.

Six years.

My gut twists at that number, and I do the math in my head. He said he’d slept with her before his father’s funeral. It was a month later, a month after he’d left that Ana had told Kade she was pregnant.

No. It’s not possible. Except it is. And it would explain why he came back. It would explain a hell of a lot of things. Bile burns up my throat when I think about what it would do to Kade.

Lola is his life.

His everything.

It would destroy him.

I’m shaking when I pull Abbott’s Jeep around back of the bar, my legs numb as I take the steps up.

Inhaling a deep breath before I open the door, I say a silent prayer that I’m wrong.

The lights are off, and for a second, I think Zee’s gone. That is, until I see a form hunched over on the couch.

I switch the lights on and suck in a breath.

Left eye swollen shut, and already halfway through a bottle of Jameson, Zee doesn’t look at me, just mumbles, “Didn’t want it to end like this.”

His bottom lip is swollen, cracked and scabbed where it had been bleeding, and when he lifts the bottle to his mouth he winces.

“You’re drinking.” I move across the room cautiously.

“Observant,” he deadpans.

I think about taking the bottle from him, but I have a feeling he’ll fight me on it. There’s something different in his gaze. He’s always broody, but the look he gives me when he finally meets my eyes is empty, like he’s given up completely.

Pressing my back against the wall, I run my hands over my arms, feeling a chill straight to my core.

He may still be here, but in his head, he’s already gone.

“Tell me why,” I say watching him take another deep swallow, his throat bobbing as he drains another quarter of the bottle.

He laughs harshly. “Because I’m an asshole, Quinn. But you already knew that.”

“You wouldn’t hurt Kade. Not like that.”

“But I did,” he sneers, the words full of self-loathing.

“Why?” I ask again.

He bites his lip, hard, reopening the wound, and looks away. “You want an excuse so you can still see me as some kind of hero. I’ve never been that guy, Quinn.” When he looks back at me, he’s hardened his expression, a million walls fortified around his heart. He growls out, “I fucked her because she was there and willing.”

I suck in a breath, even though I know he’ll say anything right now to push me away.

“I don’t believe you.”

He slams the bottle down on the table and stands, then stalks towards me. “What is your problem? I’m not the good guy here. I’m the filth your brother warned you about. I hurt the people I care about for no other reason than I can. When the hell are you going to see that?”

It would be so much easier to accept that. But I know the man behind the anger and self-hatred, behind the gruffness he uses as a shield.

“Fine, you’re the bad guy.” I toss my hands up. “That’s what you want everyone to think, right? Whatever makes it easier to walk away.”

I shake my head at him, and turn, but he grabs my wrist and presses his body against mine.

“You think that’s what I want? To leave?” His face is close to mine, his breathing rough, eyes searching, and for a second I see a crack in his armor.

“Stay or Go. No one’s forcing you to do either. It’s your choice.”

“Christ,” he says, “You still think there’s a chance for us, don’t you?”

“You care about me. I know you do.”

He gives a bitter laugh. “No, Quinn. I don’t care about you.”

I never knew the pain a few simple words could inflict. It cuts through me deep, slicing at the most vulnerable part of my heart.

“You’re an asshole.” Tears burn my eyes, and I try to yank my arm away, but he doesn’t release me.

“I fucking love you,” he rasps, pressing his forehead to mine.

I go still, my breath caught in my throat. “What?”

“Love you,” he breathes out roughly. His eyes are shut, his features pulled tight. “Can’t hurt you the way I know I will...”

Hope flares.

“You won’t—”

“God, Quinn. Stop.” He pushes away from me, and starts to pace, then grabs the bottle of whiskey and drains the rest of the bottle, before tossing it across the room. It hits the wall close to the front door and shatters.

I flinch.

“This”—he hits his chest—“is who I am. Is this really what you want? You want a man who’s so fucking broken that he’d fuck his best friend's girlfriend? Who may have knocked her up—”

Despair consumes.

“No.” I shake my head, panic surging inside of me. “Oh God, please tell me that’s not true.”

He drops to the couch, head in his hands. “I don’t know.”

No. No. No.

My poor brother. And Lola. If it’s true, it will destroy both of them.

“You can’t tell Kade,” I say desperately.

Zee winces and I know he already told him.

A small sob chokes me. “He won’t survive it. You don’t know what he’s gone through. Why? After all these years...why tell him now?”

“Just found out,” His elbows are on his knees, his palms on the back of his head, and he mutters almost incoherently now, “What should I have done? Either way, I’m the villain in everyone's book.”

Except mine. I’m starting to think that makes me the fool in this story.

“What are you going to do?” I ask quietly. “If she’s...”

I can’t even say the word — Yours.

He looks up at me, gaze haunted. “I’ll do what’s best for her. What’s best for Kade.”

“You mean leave.”

When he doesn’t answer, I know it’s exactly what he intends to do.

I suck in a shaky breath, anger replacing all other emotions.

“Have you ever fought for anything in your life?” I ask, my tone harsh and accusing.

“What do you want me to fight for, Quinn?”

You.

Me.

Us.

I want to shout it at him.

But I’m done.

Can’t do it anymore.

I can’t love someone who, despite his confession, doesn’t love me. Because love fights. It struggles. It perseveres through the worst storms and comes out stronger.

The only thing Zee has to offer me is torment.

Something severs inside my chest. Like a piece of my heart has been cut away. It’s different than the first time he left. This time I feel...nothing.

I walk to my door, and with my hand on the handle I say, “Don’t bother coming back. I won’t be waiting for you next time.”

Tears blurring my vision, I shut my door and my heart on Zee St. James.

Forever.