Bonds of Hope

by Lynda Aicher

Marcus knocked on the door across from his loft and tossed the football from one hand to the other. He bounced on the balls of his feet before he tucked the ball under his arm and forced himself to hold still. It wasn’t long before the door swung open, a grinning Tyler greeting him. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

  “Nothing much. You got a minute?”

  “Yeah. Come on in.” Tyler waved toward the couch. “I was just playing on the Xbox. You want in?”

  Tyler had been working in the kitchen at The Den for a few months and he’d just started behind the bar as well. Despite their different backgrounds, they’d hit it off almost immediately. Marcus had been there when they’d rescued the man from the fucking Dom who’d whipped him bloody, but they never talked about that. No point. Tyler was happy now with Seth and Allie. The past should be left where it was.

  “Hell, yeah.” Mindless video games sounded great. Anything was better than stewing on the coming night without Quinn. After two days of being locked away with her, enjoying his days off, he should be ready to get back to his job, not stressing about it and her.

  Tyler tossed Marcus a controller and they focused on the game for a bit. The rapport of gunfire and explosions consumed the silence and eliminated the need for conversation. He lost himself in the battle, his frustration venting nicely with the virtual smack-down they were giving to the encroaching enemy.

  After one doomsday mission that kicked their asses, Tyler threw down his remote. “Fuck. I get killed at that spot every time.”

  Marcus grunted but found himself with the same bloody death logo hanging over his guy not long after. “Shit.” He slumped against the couch and tossed his remote next to Tyler’s. “There must be a hint online about getting past this point.”

  “I’m sure there is,” Tyler said. “But that feels like cheating.” He got up and headed toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

  “Water is fine.” He had to work later.

  Tyler came back and tossed him a bottle. The man was completely at home in Seth’s loft. He didn’t officially live with Seth, but he spent most of his time there. “So what’s up?”

  Marcus glanced around. The layout was almost a mirror image of his loft across the hall. But Seth’s décor was levels above the haphazard shambles of his own. “Is Seth gone?”

  “Yeah.” Tyler brushed his dark bangs off his forehead. Dressed in ragged jeans and a worn T-shirt, it was hard to imagine him fitting in with the always-impeccable Seth and the equally sophisticated lawyer, Allie. But somehow, the three of them formed an unlikely relationship that worked for them.

  Marcus opened the bottle and took a drink to prolong his answer as to why he was there. Shit. What was he doing here? Something nailed him in the head and he jerked back, glaring at Tyler.

  The other man laughed. “Spit it out. Whatever it is.”

  Right. He picked up the bottle cap and whipped it back. Tyler blocked it easily, knocking the cap to the side, where it clicked and skidded across the hardwood floor.

  Out of distractions, Marcus sat back and stared at the exposed pipes in the ceiling. “So you got an opinion on me and Quinn?”

  “Nope. That’s your business, not mine.”

  “Hasn’t stopped everyone else from butting in.”

  “Maybe. But remember who you’re talking to.” He squirmed around and mimicked Marcus’s position. “I was a gay escort. I don’t have a right to judge or offer opinions on anyone.”

  “Right.” Marcus appreciated that. Maybe that was why he was there. “How do you do it?”

  “What?”

  “Not get mad at everyone for getting in your business.”

  Tyler snorted out a sarcastic laugh. “I don’t have that problem. I imagine Seth and Allie do, but there isn’t anyone who cares enough about me to get in my business.”

  Marcus turned his head to frown at his friend. “That’s not true.”

  Tyler shrugged. “Maybe there are some now, but before, they were the only ones who cared enough to butt their noses into my business. It pissed me off at first, but it’s probably why we’re together now.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Tyler sat up and propped his arm on the back of the couch. “Look. If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that people only butt in if they care about you. The fact that you got so many people doing that says a lot.”

  It was Marcus’s turn for a derisive snort. “Right. I’ll try to remember that.” He took a drink of water and focused on the cool liquid flowing down his throat and not his annoyance.

  “Must be tough.”

  “What?”

  “Having so many friends.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Hey.” Tyler threw his palms up in a gesture of truce. “You’re the one who came here to whine, not me.”

  “Dick.”

  “Ass.” He grabbed the controllers and tossed one at Marcus’s chest. “Go again?”

  “Sure.”

  They played another round of the game, getting annihilated once again by the enemy. Shit. Marcus hated losing, but there wasn’t much he could do about a stupid video game unless he was willing to waste hours every day playing it.

  He sat back with a sigh and rubbed a palm over the back of his neck, twisting to get the kinks. “You ever think about playing downstairs again?” He realized the question was out of left field and none of his business, but he hoped Tyler would answer.

  “Nope. Not at all.” Tyler finished off his water. “I’ve got everything I need in private. I honestly have no desire to share what we have with anyone. It’s just between us.”

  That was what Marcus had thought. Right. He thrust to his feet, slammed the rest of the water and set the empty aside. He looked around the room and bounced on his toes again. Shit. He grabbed the football but resisted the urge to smash it into the wall. “I’m hitting the gym. Do you want to come?”

  “Sure.” Tyler headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll meet you in the hall in five.”

  Marcus went to his loft and slammed the door behind him before he gave in and fired the football into his wall. Damn it. He needed to get a grip. So Quinn was having dinner with her brother. It wasn’t a big deal. She had a right to go out. Hell, she’d be gone in less than a week. Back to her job that would have her submitting to some other fucking pretend Dom. He couldn’t even think about that.

  He was a professional Dom, goddamn it. He should be ready for the break from her, not having a fucking attack of possessive jealousy and misgivings over his job. If he didn’t cool down, he wouldn’t be worth shit tonight and he had a client scheduled. The sub deserved his best, and he wasn’t canceling again.

  He grabbed his gym bag, shoved his running shoes on and headed out to meet Tyler. There was nothing wrong with what he did. Quinn had even agreed. A long run would work off the fucking excess energy and get his head on straight. Where it belonged.

  Chapter Twenty

  Quinn took in the homey atmosphere and cozy booths of the restaurant. It was small but nice and not too crowded for a Wednesday evening. The pleasant scent of meat and spices hit her nose, tempting her with food she shouldn’t have. There was a small bar off to the left, where televisions flashed sporting events to the after-work crowd lining the bar.

  The place was a bit outside of downtown in a suburb that was apparently closer to Lance’s job. Thankfully, the roads had been easy to navigate in comparison to the overcrowded mess that made up the Southern California highway system.

  She clicked on her phone to see the time, even though she’d checked it before she’d left the car. She was still early.

  “How many?” The crisp voice of the hostess was pleasant and efficient.

  “Two. My brother’s joining me.” The oddity of the statement was surprisingly nice. She’d never been able to say that before. Quinn smiled and followed the woman to a booth in the corner.

  She ordered a glass of wine and browsed the menu in lieu of thinking about the coming meeting. With all
the craziness that had happened with Marcus, she hadn’t had time to get nervous about this. Until now. She’d been thirteen years old the last time she’d seen her brother. They’d flown in for the night for his high school graduation. The trip had been quick, awkward and uncomfortable for everyone. It was pretty hard to believe it’d been so long. Sad too.

  She rubbed her neck, seeking out the thin line of the collar hidden under her turtleneck sweater. The reminder of it calmed her. Marcus hadn’t removed it when he’d left her place that morning. They’d spent two days holed up in her condo, letting the world pass by as they hid themselves away. It’d been beyond amazing before reality had busted back in. For the first night in over a week, she wouldn’t see him. She didn’t want to think about what he was doing without her tonight.

  The waitress brought her wine, and Quinn flipped through her phone to keep her mind busy. She hadn’t told her mother about this dinner. She didn’t want to hear the questions that were guaranteed to come and would plague her with doubt. This was right. Good.

  Her email was filled with the usual listing of scheduled appearances, interviews and auditions. Martin was determined to land her a movie role that would be made during the series filming break. And Jewels was lining up a packed schedule of interviews and promo ops to launch her role in the TV series. She would need to respond to all of them, but not now. It was assumed that she would agree to everything. She always did.

  She was just checking her Facebook page to see what Jewels had posted when she glanced up to see her brother standing by the table.

  “Quinn.” Lance’s voice was low and held a hint of the hesitation that filled Quinn.

  Her eyes burned and she resisted the urge to launch herself into his arms. Even after all these years, the simple presence of her older brother brought back the instant memory of the warmth and security that had always existed when she was with him.

  “Lance.” She blinked, paused, then they were both moving. Quinn was only half out of the booth when her brother enfolded her in a tight embrace. “Oh my, God. I’ve missed you.” She hadn’t realized how much until that moment.

  “Me too.” Her brother’s voice was thick and he smelled of the cold air and a spicy cologne. He eased back, his blue eyes bright. “I’m so glad you called. That you’re here.” He wiped at his cheek and slid into the bench across from her.

  Quinn dashed her tears away and took a moment to simply look at her brother. His auburn hair was trimmed in a sleek business cut, short on the sides and back and parted on the side. His face had obviously matured, his cheeks thinning out to make it leaner, but he was still handsome. When they were younger, people used to comment on how opposite they were with her white and his dark hair, but their faces had always marked them as siblings. That had changed some, but they still had the same eyes and chin.

  “So how are you?” Lance reached across the table and squeezed Quinn’s hand, any awkwardness gone.

  “Good, actually.” She gripped her brother’s big hand, soaking up the love. It was still there. “Better now.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Could their riff really be fixed that easily? Quinn hoped so. She wanted so badly to believe it was possible.

  The waitress arrived and the moment ended, but that was fine. Quinn had gotten what she needed in that one touch. Forgiveness. Everything else was extra.

  “Are you still teaching and coaching baseball?” she asked him after the waitress left.

  His smile was warm and genuine. “Yeah. I love it.”

  “I can see that.” She really could. “You look happy.” He’d always been so patient with her when she was his pesky little sister. She could honestly see him as a high school teacher.

  “Thanks. I am.”

  “Are you dating anyone?”

  He shook his head. “No one serious. Work keeps me busy.” He tapped his knuckles on the table. “I haven’t read anything about your love life lately.”

  “Thank God,” Quinn moaned before arching a brow at him. “Wait. You pay attention to the gossip rags? You do know you can’t believe anything you read in those things, right?

  Lance waved her off. “Of course. But it keeps me connected to you in a strange way.” He leaned in. “And it’d better be false. If it’s not, I might fly down there and beat the crap out of some of those jerks you’ve been pictured with.”

  A mixed dose of warmth, longing and sadness rushed through Quinn. Here was another protector who wanted to charge to her defense. “They are,” she reassured him. “Most of them are contrived by my publicist or manager. It’s all about keeping my name out there.”

  Lance sat back, frowning. “If that’s true, then I think you need to fire those people. That’s a screwed-up philosophy.”

  She couldn’t keep the chuckle from rolling out. “You’re not the first person here to tell me that. It’s just funny that no one’s ever told me that before.”

  “That’s because you’re tainted by all that Hollywood crap.” He snapped his mouth closed and glanced away for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said before Quinn could say anything. “I get that’s your life. I just don’t understand it.”

  “It’s okay.” It really was. “You’re right. It is all crap. Only it’s crap that’s fact and can’t be changed.”

  “Maybe not, but you can choose not to play, right?”

  It must seem so cut and dried to him from his distant perspective. He didn’t understand. How did she explain it to someone who wasn’t in the business? She fiddled with the stem of her wine glass, the amber liquid swishing up the bowl of the glass as she inched it around in a circle.

  “Yeah.” Her admission when it finally came was harder than it should’ve been. Maybe it was that simple.

  She’d been scrambling for the last six years to keep her name in the news and herself marketable. Appearances were everything, yet wasn’t the whole point of this new, risky role to change her image?

  For the first time, she sat back and seriously wondered what exactly was wrong with her current image.

  The waitress arrived with their meal, and the conversation changed and flowed as they ate. The halting stiltedness that had existed on the phone had completely disappeared. Mercifully, her brother dropped the Hollywood topic. They spent the next hour going over the years and years of things they’d missed out on.

  Once their plates were cleared, Quinn approached the one topic they’d been avoiding—their parents. “So,” she said. “You said Dad got remarried?”

  Lance ducked his head. “Yeah. Last June. It was a small thing, family only.” He looked up. “No one told you?”

  She shook her head. “No.” The hurt was there, but faint. It was just one more thing her father had excluded her from. “Is he happy?”

  “Yeah.” He gave her a thin smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  “It’s okay. I get it.” Quinn did too. They hadn’t communicated with each other since last Christmas. “Honestly. It’s also not your responsibility to keep me updated on Dad’s life. I certainly don’t tell you everything Mom’s doing.”

  “That’s sad, isn’t it?”

  “It is what it is, right?” That’s what Marcus would say.

  He picked at the cocktail napkin before meeting her gaze. “I told Dad I was meeting you tonight.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t want to ask the next question, but she couldn’t keep it in. “What’d he say?”

  “He’d like you to come for dinner on Sunday.”

  “He couldn’t ask me himself?” The harsh remark was out too fast.

  “Did you call him?”

  She sat back and took a calming breath. She didn’t want the hostility. They’d been doing so well until their parents came between them. Like always.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t necessary.”

  The waitress returned with the bill, and the awkward silence stretched on. He finally puffed out a laugh and shook his head. “This is what always happens,
isn’t it? We let them get between us.”

  “Why do we do that?” she asked. “What they did, separating us like that, was wrong and we both know it. Yet we continue to let their actions dictate our relationship. It’s stupid.”

  His slow smile eased her worry. “You’re right. So let’s stop.”

  “Deal.” She extended her hand and they shook on it. “Should we pinky swear too?”

  He flashed a grin again and held up his pinky so they could complete the pact. It was childish, but fitting. She finished off her wine, and Lance glanced at his phone.

  “It’s getting late. I should get going.”

  He was right, but Quinn was reluctant to leave. “What time on Sunday?” She had a late afternoon flight already scheduled, but maybe she could change that.

  He picked up his phone and quickly typed something. A second later, Quinn’s phone buzzed. She smiled. It was a text message from Lance with their dad’s phone number. “Right. We’re not the middle guys anymore.” She exhaled. “I’ll call him.”

  “He’ll like that.”

  “You think so?” There were so many years of doubt built up that Quinn wasn’t certain they could overcome them. But maybe...maybe they could be.

  “I know so.”

  “You ever talk to Mom?”

  “About as much as you talk to Dad.”

  It really was screwed up. “Have you ever asked Dad why they split us up like that?”

  “A long time ago, but I never got a solid answer. I don’t think it was malicious.” He shrugged. “Is there a point in digging into it now?”

  “Probably not.” She grabbed the bill and placed her credit card in the binder. “I just wish the two of us didn’t have to live with the guilt from their actions.”

  “I can get mine.” He pointed to the tab and reached for his wallet, but Quinn stopped him.

  “Let me.” It was something little she could do for someone she cared about. Finally. “Please.”

  “Thanks.” He waited until the waitress took the folder away before looking back to her. “So let’s stop that too. No more guilt.”

  “Is it that easy?”