She leaves me with silence again for a while. I suck in some breaths and try to relax in the atmosphere around me, carefully trying to pull myself up a bit. It’s not easy, especially knowing that both of them are going to walk in soon. I don’t even know what happens now, what I want to happen.
Quinn eventually marches in, not bothering to wait for an invite, and looks at me. Nathan appears at the door, too, a question in his eyes. At least one of them has manners. I nod my head a fraction at him, and he comes in.
I watch Quinn, assessing him, and think back to the first time we met. Of course, I saw the similarities because I knew they would be there, but did he? Was that part of the strange vibe between us or was it all in my head? I’m still not sure, but him looking at me now like I’m a puzzle waiting to be completed makes me think maybe he did know something.
“You have some explaining to do,” he opens, his intentions clear.
“You were there when they forced my confession in front of you. What part of that didn’t you understand?” I reply, just as terse in my tone. I stood in front of a bullet ready to die earlier tonight. Antagonising my new brother doesn’t feel so scary anymore.
I see Nathan snigger and try to mask it. Quinn sends him a death stare, which only seems to amuse him more.
“You don’t have questions for our supposed sister?” Quinn turns his aggression to Nathan.
“Oh, I’ve got plenty. I just don’t see the point in interrogating her. Especially when a few hours ago she nearly died,” he says, moving towards me.
“She betrayed us, tried to bring us down,” Quinn grates out, clearly trying to contain his anger. “No one does that to Cane.”
“You okay?” Nathan asks, ignoring Quinn’s remark.
I nod back at him, but this is what I feared. Benjamin might have been able to forgive me, although there are still questions there, but will these two? I’m not even sure I want their forgiveness. I’m still coming to terms with not hating their guts. My entire world has tilted on its axis over the last few days, and I feel like everything is sliding away from me. What I once thought was so true, so right, now isn’t. It’s dizzying to deal with, especially with them so close to me.
Nathan sighs after a few moments and turns to look at him brooding in the corner of the room. “She saved Emily, Quinn.”
“And?”
“Cut her some slack. I don’t think she’d have done what she did if she wanted us dead.”
“I never wished you dead,” I pipe up, my head looking between the two of them. “It wasn’t about that for me. Never was.”
“What the fuck was it about then?” Quinn crosses his arms over his chest and waits, a tilt to his head. “’Cause, from what I can see, you’ve done everything you can to end us.”
I suppose that’s what they would see without a backstory.
My fingers pull the blanket across me tighter, an offer of security in this room. For whatever reason this is harder than I ever imagined it would be.
“I grew up with nothing, Quinn. Nothing. My mother was barely fit to keep a job and a roof over our heads. Sometimes she’d forget about dinner. Sometimes she’d forget about me altogether and just leave me to try to fend for myself. Do you know how that feels?” I doubt it. How could he with his family amongst the constancy of life? He doesn’t flinch at my words, no show of interest or compassion. “She blamed me for having to leave your father. It was hard to see you as anything but the source of my misery. Don’t you get that?” He snarls at me, probably showing my father’s eyes when he sent my mother away. “It was easy to grow to hate you, and with my hate came the desire to show you what being a Cane meant for me. I wanted to ruin you. That’s all. Show you some of the life I’d had to endure so you’d understand.”
My body sags back into the bed with the effort to get the words out, and I drop my head back, so I don’t have to see Quinn or Nathan’s expressions.
No one speaks for a few moments, and then a soft touch on my hand tells me Nathan at least sees some sense in my logic.
“I’m sorry you had to grow—”
“Shut the fuck up, Nate. We don’t know who the hell she is.” My eyes are drawn to a passing shadow, Benjamin stalking out in the main lounge because of the raised voices.
“She’s our sister. Give her a fucking break.”
“What, like you did to Emily?”
Nathan’s eyes fire at Quinn, an undisclosed something happening between them as he starts walking away. “That was fucking different, Quinn.”
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 n
eed 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.
“At the hands of our father, my mother is now insane. The things he put her through, what she endured at his hands.” Quinn’s hands turn white as he squeezes his knuckles together. I can tell he’s uncomfortable with the memory. “Believe me, your mother had it easy. The shit we’ve done over the years, because of him, Hope. You didn’t want to be part of it. Nor would your mother had she known.”
“Easy? When did yours die, Quinn?” I ask. He scrunches his brow, a look of contrition coming as he nods at my argument.
“All right, she’s not dead. And we look after her. But she’s barely alive either. We watched what happened to her because of our father, just like you looked after yours.” He sighs at something, a blank expression settling “Cunt deserves to be rotting six feet under.”
That I agree with.
There was no hope of ever meeting my father. I didn’t even want to after watching how he broke my mother. And now, after these words from Quinn, it sounds like he broke theirs as well. He must have been a real nice guy.
A stillness creeps into the room, and I welcome it. My eyes drift closed for a moment, taking some time to process. My head still feels muffled, and the fear of where things are left with Benjamin hasn’t diminished, no matter this distraction.
“I couldn’t put my finger on it before, but now I know, it seems obvious.”
“What?” I murmur, fighting the sudden pull of sleep. He walks closer to the bed, eyes directed at mine until he’s so close I can see my own reflection in them.
“Our similarities. You intrigued me right from the start, but why come onto me at dinner that first night?”
“Benjamin.”
He chuckles and watches me watch him. “Threatened, was he?”
I sink back down to the bed, not entertaining a conversation about that. I'm too tired, and still very much on Benjamin’s side, for the moment anyway.
“That doesn’t matter now,” I mutter.
The ache in my body starts to intensify, the pain that was background noise rushing to the forefront of my mind. My eyes close, trying to shut it out for a moment or to force it back to the recesses.
“Do you need something?”
“Can you get Benjamin? Or the doctor?”
“Quinn?” Emily’s voice enters the room, but I don’t have the energy to open my eyes. “Hope needs to rest. Come on. We can come back.”
“I’ll send someone in, Hope.”
He doesn’t say anything more, and I know if I open my eyes the room will be empty.
A chill runs through me, disturbing my slumber, and my eyes flutter open. The room is still and quiet, and gloom surrounds me, low lamps the only light. The pain from earlier only lingers in my body rather than overriding my senses. I force my body to move, pushing through the slight grimaces to sit myself up.
Benjamin is sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room, a glass in his hand.
“Hi,” I offer, unsure of what to say.
He doesn’t answer, but I see him lift the glass to his lips. My heart starts to vibrate in my chest, but I notice there’s no beeping this time. Many of the machines from earlier have been removed. “How long was I asleep?”
“A few hours. You’re healing.” His words are clipped and offer no glimpse of emotion or insight into what he might be feeling. He gets up to leave, his body language defeated, shoulders slouched and his head hanging.
“Wait. Don’t go,” I plead. I don’t want to be left alone. And now I have a real fear that after I’m on my feet, I might be alone forever. Before he knew, when I was deceiving him, I could cope with the prospect of walking away with nothing and having to build my life from scratch. That was always a possibility when the aim was destroying Cane, but so much has changed. Benjamin’s reaction is one of them. After the beach house, I thought we’d be able to work through anything. “Please don’t hate me. Don’t shut me out.” My voice is weak.
He doesn’t move, but he doesn’t say anything, either.
Silence. He drinks again and keeps looking at me, bringing some amount of hope flooding back into me that he hasn't left. But time just stretches on with nothing but silence.
“Why did you step in front of that bullet, Hope?” It's so direct, I stutter for an answer in my mind.
“It was the right thing to do. The only thing I could do.”
More silence.
And then even more silence.
My fingers twist in the sheets, praying that he'll say something, anything at all.
“I can't deal with that answer,” he says instead, turning his back on me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“I thought we were all right? After everything we’ve been through. I can’t lose you.”
“That’s not your decision, Hope. It never has been.”
Twenty-Nine
“She should be here in around ten minutes, boss,” Luca says, opening the driver’s door. “Torino’s bringing her.” Good. I nod and back off as he slides in, and then watch him filter back into the traffic downtown.
It’s been a long two weeks, and it's time to right some of the wrongs I’ve put her through in that time. I had my reasons, my own thoughts to try finding my way through, but I doubt she’s felt that. She’ll have seen a sense of unease in me, moody fucking behaviour and barely spoken words. I wish it could have been easier than that but finding out I’m gonna be a father has ripped the guts out of me in a way I never thought possible. I heard that heartbeat when Daniel did the scan, knew it was real. She doesn’t know anything, still, but I do, and that’s been reason enough for me to stay quiet.
Snow is coming now, lightly dusting the streets around me. It’s pretty. Well, as pretty as the damned city gets with me in it. I stand on 34th, checking out the mill of cars rumbling past. No place for a kid, really. Murder, crime. Endless drug runners hitting these streets, like I used to do all those years ago. Although, I never did that here. We were too big for that
shit by the time father upscaled us here, but he sent others out doing it for him.
The car pulls up after a while, and my hand reaches for the door handle to help her. She slides those legs of hers out, this time encased in fucking jeans and boots. Not sure if I like them or not, but whatever. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than clothing, or how fucking good she looks in them.
“Hi,” she says, finding her feet.
“Hey.”
She looks around her, a puzzled expression dropping onto her face.
“What am I doing here?”
“Wanted to talk to you.” Not sure how the fuck I’m gonna say it, but it needs saying. Plenty of things need saying, one being something I can’t find words for.
“On 34th?”
“No, come on.”
I start walking without her, then check myself back and hover around her side, offering her my arm to hold onto. She looks at me, and then the crook of my elbow, suspicion written all over her face. I’m not surprised. I must have seemed like a dick to her this last two weeks. She takes it anyway and we head up through the people, my presence forging a fucking wall of death to anyone who dares go near her.
“So?” she questions after a few minutes.
“Not here,” I reply, cutting and weaving through the people until I can get us to the entrance.
The heat hits us as we turn through the revolving doors, and she looks around, more suspicion on her brow. “Why are we here?” she asks.
I ignore her and head for the concierge, eyes scanning the desk for yet another person I control. Eventually, Marta Angelo comes up and smiles at me, giving a nod of recognition.
“Vico,” she says, rounding the desk and stepping through the hall to me. “I’ve cleared it out. Two hours gonna be okay?”
“Sounds good.” She leads us over to the elevator, smiling at Hope every now and then. “Mama all right?”
“You probably know Mama better than I do. She’s always all right,” she replies, pressing the call button. “I’ve tried to get her to modernise the bakery but—”
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