Give Me Strength

by Kate McCarthy

  “It’s not Saturday morning.”

  She burrowed further into my chest, unable to open her eyes to greet the early hour. “You’re lying,” she mumbled.

  “I don’t lie.”

  The lips she currently had pressed into my neck curved in a smile. “You have a tell.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Everybody does. That’s what you told me.”

  Rolling Quinn over, I pinned her arms to the bed and ground my hips into hers, making sure she knew I was hard and I wanted her.

  “Except me. Did I forget to mention that?”

  I touched my lips to hers and smiled against them as she strained upwards into my touch, making me harder if that was possible.

  The pounding at the door came again.

  “Dammit, Quinn! I know you’re awake,” came the muffled yell.

  “Will you forgive me if I strangle Lucy, weigh her body down and let her sink to the bottom of the ocean?”

  “Are you kidding?” she groaned into my neck. “I’ll supply the cement bricks. I know exactly where I can get some.”

  She was, of course, referring to the leftover blocks from our newly constructed rendered fence. We’d moved into Coby’s house a year ago. During that time, to much protest by Evie, Mac, and even Quinn, who rarely protested about anything, I bought us a dilapidated four bedroom house in Manly Vale. I liked to think I was smarter than Jared though, and our renovations were undertaken over the six months we lived at Coby’s house before we moved in.

  “Maybe we can just pretend we’re not home,” I said with a small degree of hope.

  Quinn rolled from beneath me, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed she sat up, looking back at me over her shoulder. I loved Quinn’s back. Seemed an odd body part to fall in love with, but her hair was short enough I could see the delicate line of her neck and it led down a creamy satin expanse of skin to an ass I never got tired of watching or holding in my hands. I frowned because in this instance she was wrapped up like Fort bloody Knox, and I couldn’t see anything, making this a really shitty start to my day.

  “That didn’t work the last time we tried, remember? You’re the one that bought a house just two blocks away from where Rick and Lucy bought their house.”

  “Maybe we can play the blame game. She’s your friend.”

  Quinn raised a brow as she dragged her sweet, delicious body out of bed. “Our friend.”

  I reached out to drag her back, but she danced from my reach and waggled the ring finger of her left hand, diamonds glinting every which way in the morning light. My lips curved in a smile of pure male satisfaction at the sight, even while she was smirking at me. “We joined forces in case you forgot. Everything became ours. Including Lucy.”

  That was true. Quinn was now my wife, and I never got tired of introducing her to everyone that way. Mrs. Valentine. This is my wife, Quinn Valentine. It suited her, being mine. The wedding, according to Quinn, was going to be nothing like Jared and Evie’s. Theirs had blown out to major proportions. It hadn’t helped that Evie was now being recognised wherever she went. Magazines wanted scoops and access to her private life. Quinn didn’t want the show. She tried to rope me into it by asking what I wanted, but I wasn’t stupid. Whatever she wanted was what I wanted—as long as she was happy. That wasn’t the right answer apparently. According to Mac, I needed to have an opinion. So I asked Mac what Quinn wanted. Mac told me she wanted a quiet wedding, close family only. So I told Quinn I wanted a quiet wedding. “You don’t want a big wedding?” she’d asked me with wide eyes. I looked helplessly at Mac. I thought the problem was fixed. Had Quinn changed her mind and wanted a big wedding? It was all too hard. It seemed to be universal that when we told women we wanted whatever they wanted, they didn’t believe us, but it was true. Our lives were happy when they were happy. Happy equals happy. Simple math. Women liked to complicate it by dragging algebra and long division into the equation.

  In the end we had our quiet wedding. Jared stood on my right and Lucy on Quinn’s left. Quinn had daisies wound through her pinned hair and a white lace dress that flared out to her knees. She was simply perfect.

  Propped up on one elbow, my focus immersed in her, she peeled off the pink robe and replaced it—entirely too quickly—with her jogging gear. She propped a leg up on the corner chair, the one that was great for flinging all my clothes on, and started lacing up her shoes before furrowing her brow at me in worry.

  “Are you sure you’re gonna be—”

  I cut her off. “Yes! We’ll be fine.” A kitchen cupboard opened and then slammed closed and my brows flew up in disbelief. “You gave her a key?”

  She shrugged. “Just for emergencies.”

  Sighing heavily, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Scratching idly at my chest, I said dryly, “I can see how this morning’s jog could constitute an emergency where Lucy would need to breach the premises.”

  Her eyes tracked the movement of my hand as it rubbed lazily over my chest and my lids lowered a little. “See something you like?”

  “Quinn! Hurry up,” Lucy yelled from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen.

  I stood up and waved her away when she hesitated. “Go. The sooner you leave, the sooner I get you back. Take your phone,” I added. Never could be too careful.

  “I can take care of myself, you know,” she called out over her shoulder as she left the room.

  “Not unless you find a few stray chairs along the sidewalk to whack people over the head with as you jog on by,” I called back teasingly.

  Lucy must have heard me because she let out a shout of laughter then it followed with a muffled “ouch.”

  “Are you sure you got this on your own?” Quinn called out from the front door as I shuffled towards the ensuite.

  “Yes! Just relax!” I yelled back.

  An hour later, Quinn returned to chaos.

  I was sure I had it. How hard was it supposed to be?

  It was just unfortunate the yard had yet to be renovated along with the house. With the light rain this morning over the mud pit that constituted our backyard, Rufus had broken through the back door and trekked it all through the gleaming timber floors. Shaking his fur, mud spatters covered various cream painted walls throughout the house.

  Breakfast had seen me go through four different cereals until the favourite of the day had been chosen, leaving milk and flakes scattered on the bench, floor, and breakfast table, along with the dishes from my eggs on toast. Cartoons blared at dangerous levels from the television, and a trail of toys littered the living room floor. Stuck indoors, the decision to move on to forts had been made. That involved shifting the couch and dining chairs to create tunnels and covering them with all the plush blankets Quinn kept for guests.

  Quinn chose that moment to return—shutting the front door just as I got too vigorous demonstrating how to kick a soccer goal, broke the blinds, and watched them crash to the floor. What was I supposed to do with it raining outside?

  Sam let out a giggle.

  Quinn’s mouth fell open as she stared.

  So did mine.

  Sam hadn’t uttered a word the entire week we’d been taking care of him. At three years old, he’d watched his father overdose and die and his mother almost follow. She was in the hospital, but it wasn’t looking good for her. Sam was the first kid in our care since we’d signed up as foster parents six months ago—the first thing we did when we moved into our Manly Vale home. The process had taken that long. Six months of paperwork, screening checks, home interviews, training, and home inspections.

  It was looking likely that Sam may be with us for a while. Quinn and I had talked about adoption, but we knew we had to be able to establish a stable, long term relationship so the process might take some time. Though with the possibility of Sam’s mother being mentally unstable, the Supreme Court could move proceedings along that much faster. We wanted to be free to love Sam without the fear of having to let him go. Sam was endearing and hesitan
t and little, just like Quinn, with his choppy short blond hair and dark hazel eyes. It would take time and love and stability for him to be able to use the voice that was shocked right out of him. I’d been encouraging him to draw his feelings with pictures, but just now, his giggle was the first sound we’d heard.

  Quinn cleared her throat and looked at me. Immediately I knew the mess and the damage to the blinds was already forgiven. I grinned. We talked about the fact that when Sam started to verbalise again we were not to make a big deal of it so that he’d feel comfortable.

  Even with the emotion running riot across Quinn’s face, I could see her force a smile through imminent tears, put her hands on her hips and say, “Well. What a mess, huh?” and it made me so fucking proud of her.

  Sam giggled again.

  Later that morning, closer to lunch, we arrived at Jared and Evie’s house for the Sunday barbecue. They’d finished renovating five months ago and I was honestly surprised with how well Jared did. I’d taken one look at the house and thought it would have been better to drive a bulldozer straight through the middle of it. The two story structure was painted weatherboard in stone with white trim and lush green lawns and hedges. I saw Quinn eyeing the landscaping with frustration.

  “Must be nice to have a lawn,” she murmured longingly. “The soft scratchy feel of grass between your toes. The smell of freshly mowed lawn on a warm afternoon.” She opened the passenger door of the Subaru and sucked in a lungful of air for effect. “Pretty flowers making everything…pretty. Space to kick a soccer ball without tearing apart a clean house.”

  “You know we can’t do anything until the excavators come in and start digging for the retaining wall.” Out of the car, I unbuckled Sam’s car seat and settled him on my hip. With a wink at Quinn, I beeped the locks and we walked up the driveway. “You can always come over here when you feel the need to be at one with nature.”

  She snorted, juggling a cooler of beer and container of biscuits baked this morning while I cleaned the chaos, and rang the bell. Someone yelled to “come in.”

  “If I did that, Jared would tell me I had to mow the lawn or weed the gardens for the privilege.”

  Through the door, Mum ran towards us as though we’d been schlepping lost through war torn Afghanistan for a year and returning home alive had been doubtful.

  “Mum,” I warned when she kissed both Quinn and I on the cheek and reached immediately for Sam. Sam burrowed into my chest, latching his little arms around my neck.

  Undeterred, Mum smiled wide at him and asked him if he wanted to go for a swim in the pool. Not looking at her, he shook his head.

  “I’ll take him swimming later if he wants to, Mum.”

  “Okay.” She sighed, taking the bags from Quinn as we walked further into the house. “Did you bring him something to swim in? I was at the shops yesterday with Mackenzie and saw the cutest little boardshorts. They were on special. I had to buy them.”

  I raised my brows at her in reply.

  “Just a couple of pairs. I’ve left them in the guest room, okay?”

  Holding Quinn’s hand, Sam in my arms, we wandered outside where everyone was gathered around the outdoor seating, pool, and barbecue.

  Mac swooped in. “Where have you been? You’re late, you lazy assh—”

  I cleared my throat.

  “Lazy people,” she amended.

  She grabbed Quinn by the elbow after pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead and patting his back softly. He squirmed but otherwise seemed to enjoy the affection.

  “Evie’s been busy. Busy throwing up all morning. Tonight is the biggest night of Jamieson’s life. They have to play at the awards in eight hours. Eight hours,” she hissed, her voice slowly fading out as she dragged Quinn away.

  Grabbing a beer, I stood chatting with Dad, Jared, and Mitch by the barbecue for a few minutes before Jared dragged me away.

  “Listen,” he said. “Evie and I…” He folded his arms. “We uh…”

  I chuckled because he looked nervous. “Spit it out, mate.”

  “We haven’t told anyone yet because we only found out this morning. I didn’t want to spring it on you, but…Evie and I are having a baby.”

  Shock punched through me until I smiled slowly, feeling it overtake my face. I pulled him towards me and slapped his back. It was a little awkward because I was still holding Sam, but I offered my congratulations.

  Jared looked worried but it eased a little into relief as I asked him how Evie was, and he told me she’d been green for an entire week and it didn’t look like letting up anytime soon.

  “I appreciate you telling us first,” I told him, “and…well, we haven’t told anyone this yet either. Quinn and I saw a specialist a few months back. Turns out they might be able to reverse some of the damage with surgery but…” I glanced down at Sam. He appeared to be dozing off a little. “…with all the weddings, renovations, the foster parenting process, Quinn busy at work with Jamieson’s two singles going platinum, there’s been no time to organise it.” I paused when I heard Mac swearing loudly from somewhere upstairs. Jared rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we’ve got Sam. He’s our focus for now.”

  “You’re going to adopt him?”

  I nodded. “We’d like to if we can.”

  Quinn could now be heard swearing loudly from upstairs. “What the hell is going on up there?”

  We wandered inside as Henry tore down the stairs, phone to his ear. Taking our questioning glances in, he muffled the speaker and said, “It’s Frog and Cooper. They’ve been in a car accident on their way here,” before returning to his phone call.

  Mac followed behind him, Quinn behind her. “It’s a goddamn disaster. The awards tonight and Evie is up there looking like death city, throwing up a lung and a kidney, and now Frog and Cooper.”

  I grabbed Quinn’s hand as she reached the bottom step.

  “They’re okay. Some idiot went through a stop sign, but they weren’t going fast. Cooper has a couple of scratches but Frog’s broken his arm.”

  “Oh shit,” I muttered.

  “Shit is right,” she agreed.

  “Fuck shit,” Mac growled. “It’s a goddamn disaster. This is the biggest night of Jamieson’s life and Frog’s gone and cocked up his arm and Evie, well…” She threw up her hands.

  Mum came in from outside just as Casey came through the front door. “We’ll be out of beer soon, can one of you go?”

  “Mum,” Mac shouted. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

  “What could be bigger than being out of beer?” Casey chuckled as he did the rounds of kissing Mum, Mac, and Quinn on the cheek in greeting. He reached for the stirring Sam in my arms, and Sam went willingly, having taken to Casey the couple of times he’d visited the past week. He swung Sam onto his hip and tucked his tired head under his chin, and I wasn’t about to admit that my arms were a bit tired from holding the little champ.

  “Actually, we have a replacement bassist for Frog all lined up thanks to Henry,” Quinn told us. “Maybe you can pick her up from the airport and grab the beer at the same time for us?”

  “Airport?” I asked.

  “She’s dropped everything to fly in from Melbourne for us. Would you mind?”

  Casey sat the now fully alert Sam at his feet and jangled his keys. “Blocking the Subaru in.”

  I nodded my head towards the door. “You can drive then. You’ll be right with Sam, Quinn?”

  Quinn took hold of Sam’s hand, passing over the printed flight details in the other. “Of course. Mac and Henry are going to collect Cooper and Frog, and Sam and I are going for a swim in the pool.”

  Sam looked up at me with wide eyes. I ruffled his hair. “Be back soon, bud, okay?”

  He nodded.

  Ducking my head, I took hold of Quinn’s chin gently and touched my lips to hers and whispered in her ear what I wanted to do to her later tonight that I’d missed out on doing this morning. “Later, sweetheart.”

  “Later,” she breathed, her cheeks
flushing pink.

  With a grin and short wave, Casey and I left for the airport. The flight from Melbourne to Sydney only took an hour but we arrived with ten minutes to spare and stood waiting as passengers started flowing in from the arrivals gate.

  Towards us came a girl with a guitar case slung over her back. Deep red tangles of hair flowed down her back and a colourful tattoo wound along the length of her bare arm and towards her neck. Encased in tiny black leather shorts and a sleeveless shirt, she strode directly towards us.

  “Holy fuck,” Casey breathed beside me. “Do you think that’s her?”

  I checked the photo of her that Quinn had messaged through and checked the girl coming towards us again. The tattoos weren’t in the photo, neither was the smoky eyes, painted lips, and wild red hair—just a fresh faced girl with dark brown hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose.

  “I think so.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Henry’s sister apparently.”

  I chuckled at Casey’s open mouthed expression. “Close your mouth,” I muttered. “You’ll catch flies.”

  “What did Quinn say her name was?”

  I checked my phone and looked back up.

  “Grace.”

  ***

  A HUGE thank you to my readers for reading my books. I hope you find them as entertaining to read as they are to write!

  To my husband for your encouragement.

  Terrena and Julie—two of the most beautiful women in my life. Your enthusiasm, love and ability to cut through the bullshit makes you both two very rare gems that I am so lucky to have.

  Max, Max, Max. Holy shit woman. No words except no one will ever take you away from me. You’re mine.

  BJ Harvey. PTFD and SMYD. I am so blessed to share this journey with you.

  To Trisha Rai and Tammy Zautner. The two of you got me through this book. I wouldn’t have survived it otherwise. Thank you both so much for being you. I love you both so very dearly.

  To Claire Haiek—the superwoman of the proofreading world. Remember—you were mine first.

  To my beta reading team—thank you for being on board the crazy train! Your feedback kept me going and made this book so much more than it could be.