“Oh no. I’m sorry. Deacon.”
He waves me away. “Don’t feel sorry for me. Drink up.”
“I...” Shit. I need help sobering Deacon up, and none of my brothers can be found. Suddenly Tate appears, looking finer than any man has right to, along with another... “Oh my Lord... Knight!”
I run to my twin, tears of joy streaming down my face. “You’re here. Does Campbell know?” Knight catches me up in a hug, and I swear I’m taken back to the time we spent in the womb together. Momma said that after we were born, we would only stop crying long enough to sleep if we were touching one another.
“Not yet,” Knight replies. “But I can’t wait to tell her.”
Tate catches my tearful gaze. “Thank you.”
He grins. “It was so hard not telling you today. Everything was so last minute.”
Knight steps back. “And I got the approval to leave at the last minute.”
“Is that—oh my word. Knight!” Momma starts to cry as he leaves me to console her. “You’re early. Campbell will be so thrilled.”
“I know, Momma. But what about you?”
She hugs him tighter. “I’m... my babies are home. That’s more than any mother could ask for.”
“Why is everyone cry—?” Campbell drops the baby monitor as Knight turns to face her. “You’re not supposed to be here for another week.”
“I can always leave and come when you’re ready.”
“Don’t you dare joke. Don’t you dare.” She rushes to him, jumps in his arms, and wraps her whole body around him. He catches her easily since she’s the size of Tinker Bell and he’s more along the lines of a small giant.
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
Campbell starts crying, so Knight excuses them to take her inside so they can have a moment alone.
“What a family reunion,” Momma says, her cheeks flushed with happiness. “I swear this is the best party we’ve had in a long time.”
“Laird’s still out there,” Deacon says harshly. “Wonder what he’d have to say about that?”
Of course, this is the moment Ophelia finally shows up to the roast.
“What do you think, little sister? Should we celebrate everyone being here, while Laird’s empty box is in the ground?”
She freezes in her tracks, her pale face turning ashen. “I don’t... it’s not... why would you say that?”
“Deacon. That’s not okay,” I chastise, hoping he’ll shut up before everything goes south.
“It’s the damn truth, Quinn.”
Tate grabs him by the shoulder. “Let’s go inside and talk.”
Deacon wrenches away from him, and I wonder where in the hell Duke and Barron are. “One of us should have been there with him.”
I swallow hard as guilt worms it way through my body.
“Stop it, Deacon,” Ophelia says, snapping at him in a surprisingly strong voice. “Laird was old enough to have decided for himself what was safe. He chose wrong, and we have to live with his consequences.”
Bile floods my mouth. I hate living with this consequence—without him—because it all could have been so easily avoided had I gone out on the boat with him.
“We never went out alone. That was the rule. It was always the rule, and Laird always followed it. Fuck it all to hell and back, who was supposed to go with him?” Deacon roars, overturning a table.
A few audible gasps pull me back to reality.
I try to breathe, but a heavy weight settles on my chest and I can’t get enough air in my lungs.
“We should have been with him.” Deacon is quieter now, words coming out almost in a sob. “We should have known... should have done something.”
“I knew,” I whisper. “I was the one who was supposed to go.”
“Quinn, no. Stop it,” Tate orders, but I won’t. I refuse to be silent any longer.
“I changed my plan at the last minute.”
“Why would you do that?” my brother demands, staring at me as if I’m a stranger.
Guilt shoves its talons deep in my heart. “Because Tate and I... got married.”
Deacon’s face turns ashen, his blue eyes stark. “But you... you always protected Laird. You were the one who made us follow that fucking rule after Dad died, especially with Laird. How could you choose Tate over your own brother?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I whimper.
He flips over another table, back to breathing too hard in a furious rage. “This is bullshit. We shouldn’t be celebrating a fucking thing.”
“Deacon Henry King. Hush your mouth,” Momma says, her face contorted with anger as she storms up to us. “I don’t know what started all this nonsense, but you’re making a fool of yourself and spoiling what should be a cause for celebration. Apologize to Ophelia and carry your tail inside until you sober up.”
I shrink back, imagining that anger directed at me should she find out I am the one responsible for Laird’s death.
Duke appears out of nowhere. “I’ll take him.”
Tate grabs my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Don’t put this on yourself, wild child,” he says, his voice low and urgent. Sympathetic. “You’re not responsible for this.”
But I am. I always have been.
“We can’t make our announcement.” I take my ring off, then shove it into my pocket.
Tate’s mouth thins. “I don’t have a problem with postponing it, but I’d like for you to keep the ring on.”
“No.”
He sighs. “Let’s go someplace private to talk.”
As soon as we’re in my old room, he shuts the door and pulls me into his arms. “What do you need from me, Quinn?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing that can make this better.” I’m shaking now, with rage or fear or guilt—I don’t know.
“What do you want me to do? Anything at all, wild child.”
“I don’t know what you can do other than leave me alone right now,” I snap.
He steps back to consider me. “For how long?”
“I don’t know. Stop asking me questions I can’t give you the answers to.” Images of my little brother fill my head. I close my eyes against them.
“This is bullshit. I can’t live like this, Quinn.”
“No one asked you to.” Just leave me alone. Leave me alone so I can work this out before I say something worse. But I can’t say any of that because my guilt is killing me. It’s eating at me, drowning me.
Just like Laird... oh, God.
I take in great gulps of air, but I can’t get enough. My eyes fly open. Tate is still standing in front of me, but his arms are no longer around me.
“Cheap shot, wild child.” He runs a hand though his dark hair. “You want to know the real reason I gave you thirty days?”
Yes. “No, but I’ll listen to you anyway.”
“I’m leaving for Croatia at the end of next month, to start shooting a new movie. I’ll be there for three months, and then it’s onto the next project. I’m still trying to decide if I should sell my aunts’ place or keep it,” he says.
“It’s yours—do what you want.”
His jaw works. “You can’t bend for me at all, can you? No matter how much I beg you. How much I get down on my knees and swallow my fucking pride by coming to you again and again.”
“I didn’t ask you to beg!” As soon as I say the words, I know I’ve made a mistake, but I don’t know my way back from this.
“You didn’t have to. Now I know it will never be good enough.”
“Stop saying that. You’re not a martyr, and you’re not the one with the brother who went missing...” I take another breath; there’s no reason not to say what Laird really is. “A brother who is dead because of you, either.”
“How long are you going to live on that, Quinn? How long are going to let your misplaced guilt rule your life? How long are you going to punish me for something that neither of us had any control o
ver? How long do you expect me to go along with this?”
My heart pinches so tight I gasp, but Tate starts striding to the door when I don’t answer him right away. “Have it your way, Quinn. You always do,” he tosses at me, the words as explosive as a grenade.
“What are you saying?” I ask as my heart bursts into even more pieces.
He yanks the door open, a dark expression on his face. For the first time in my life, I don’t recognize the man standing there. “I’m done trying to make things right for us, and it’s going to take a fucking miracle to convince me that anything about our relationship is worth saving.”
He slams the door behind him. Silence echoes in his wake. My legs give out and I crumple to the floor, screaming out the agony suffocating my soul. Sobs rack my body, but I can’t stop them. I don’t care to.
How long are you going to punish me for something that neither of us had any control over?
I know he’s right. But knowing doesn’t change my guilt. I feel responsible, deep in my bones where I cannot dig it out.
The door opens, and Barron walks in. As soon as he sees me, he’s at my side.
“Are you okay?” He gets down on the floor with me, wrinkling his pristine ironed suit in the process, but that’s my brother.
“No. I screwed up, Barron. Really bad. I don’t think Tate will...” When I sniff, my brother hands me a handkerchief so I can wipe my nose. “I think it’s over. For real this time.”
Barron kisses my head, then pulls me to him so we’re sitting side by side. “Sorry, baby duck.”
“Me, too.” Closing my eyes, I lay my head on my big brother’s shoulder.
Chapter 21
Quinn
It’s dark by the time I work up the courage to leave my room and face one of my biggest fears—confessing everything to my momma and sister-in-law about what happened the weekend Laird disappeared.
I can’t remain a scared child. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman. If I want to be able to live—really live—my life, I need to come clean. I need to move on from the past and face the consequences of the future.
But as soon as I sit up in bed, the door opens and Momma pokes her head inside. “Quinn, honey. Can we talk?”
“Sure. Um. Right this second?”
“It’s as good of time as any,” she says with a tight smile as she pushes the door open wider.
My stomach flips, tightens, and then drops when Ophelia trails in behind her. Shit. Maybe I’m not as courageous as I thought. “I’d planned on coming to you two.”
“I think you’ve been coming to our rescue often enough,” Momma says. “It’s our turn.”
Momma and Ophelia sit on either side of the bed, flanking me and making escape impossible. I sigh, knowing I don’t need to escape. I need to tell them the truth.
Momma brushes my hair out of my face. “All that wild hair has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?”
I nod. “Yes.” Biting the side of my lip, I sit up taller. “I need to tell y’all something.”
Ophelia cuts on the lamp on my nightstand, and it’s all I can do to keep from plunging us into semi-darkness again. “That’s better.”
“If you say so,” I mutter, then raise my voice. “I’m the one who’s responsible for Laird’s death. I’d promised to go with him, but changed my plans at the last minute.”
I brace for the onslaught. The cursing. The banishment. The—
“That’s not true, honey,” Momma says. “The ocean took my son away, not you.”
My jaw slackens. “What? I mean, ma’am?” No, this isn’t right. She should be reading me the riot act right now. Maybe I should explain myself better. “ I-I was supposed to go with Laird, but I cancelled at the last minute to marry Tate. I chose Tate over Laird. That’s why my little brother died. I wasn’t with him, and I hid it from everyone. “
“Oh, Quinn...” My momma sighs, and I want to crawl into a hole and never come out. I know that sigh. That’s the ‘you disappointed me’ sigh, but I can’t stop, so I plunge ahead.
“I told Tate we couldn’t tell anyone what we had done because it was my fault, and I could barely live with myself, and... then Tate left me because I pushed him away. I was so selfish not to tell you guys the truth, but I couldn’t bear to lose y’all, too. That wasn’t the right thing to do. And I’m sorry for waiting for so long to confess,” I say in a rush. Tears are running down my cheeks, my nose is snotty, and my heart is hitting against my chest like a hammer. “I don’t know what else to say or do, and I’m pretty sure my marriage is over because I pushed Tate away. Again. Please say you don’t hate me.”
Ophelia covers my hand with hers, and I start at the contact. She stills wears the slim wedding band Laird had made for her from a gold coin he’d found in a shipwreck while diving off the coast. He’d claimed it was near the Queen Anne’s Revenge—Blackbeard’s beloved ship.
“I guess you forgot my emotional breakdown during Blackbeard Days.”
My gaze swings to her face, my mind wandering back to our conversation at Café Delmare...
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you and Tate are married either. He was really happy for y’all. We both were.”
“You’ve known this whole time?” My voice is reed thin.
“Yes, and I’m sorry for not saying something to you sooner. I had no idea you were wearing guilt like an albatross around your neck all this time. The thing is, and I think Jane Ellen will agree...” Ophelia’s sad eyes fix on my momma. “Laird made the decision to go out on the boat alone. He could have called any of his brothers, friends, or even let me go with him like I wanted.” Her mouth trembles and she gets this faraway look in her eyes, as if she’s remembering that exact day. “But he said the seas were so rough that even mermaids needed to stay away.”
Fresh tears fall on my cheeks as my heart twists for my sister-in-law. “That sounds exactly like something my little brother would say.”
Momma sniffs loudly, and I look at her in time to see her wiping at the tears on her face. “Yes, it does. He protected you right up to the very end, didn’t he?”
“I just wished he would have protected himself by choosing to stay with me,” Ophelia whispers, her grip on my hand tightening. Hot tears splash on my skin, and I turn my attention to her. “I think we should all stop blaming ourselves for what we could have done and—and stop living our lives as if we have to apologize for being alive in the first place.”
I give her a wobbly smile as Momma leans across me and pulls us both in for a hug. Ophelia bumps me in the chin, but I don’t care. We all sit there, women bound by sadness and tragedy... and hope and love in one another, for each other... and in the future to come.
***
Monday afternoon, I meet with Roxi in my office. For once, I sit behind my desk and she sits in the chair across from it, like we’re about to discuss something important.
Which we are.
We so are.
“I’ve decided not to wait until the end of the month to let you know that I want to you to buy me out.”
Roxi cheers, bobbing her head and pumping her fist in the air for a second or two before becoming serious again. As one does in this sort of thing.
“I’m amenable to that,” she says all businesslike, but her nearly black eyes are dancing.
I bite back a grin.
Gosh, it feels so good to smile and be goofy after this weekend’s disaster. Although, I do have to admit that clearing the air with my momma and sister-in-law was one of the best things to come out of it. Now I have to concentrate on getting everything in order, so I can clear the air with my husband. Maybe even win him back.
My heart flips at the thought. Well, what’s left of it does.
“I have the paperwork ready for you to take to your lawyer. After we come to mutually agreeable terms, we’ll start my exit strategy. There’s one thing, though.”
She pushes her brows together. “What’s that?”
“Davie—the sweet
little boy who also is known as Batman—needs someone to style his hair. I need you or Will to promise that we’ll figure out the best way to transition from me to y’all. I can’t leave his momma in a bind.”
“I swear. Put it in the contract.” Roxi taps on the desk, her face earnest. “We will make it happen.”
“And the braids program?”
Roxi tilts her head to the side. “Do you really think I’m going to stop the one program that gets the dads involved?”
“I know. I know.” I hold up my hands, palms facing out. “Sorry. I’m nervous. I’ve never been bought out before.”
She grins. “I’ve never been able to buy someone out before.”
“I’m so freaking excited, Roxi.”
“Giving it all up to go after your dreams, huh?”
“My dreams have always been to do whatever I decide with Tate at my side, but I can’t go after any future if I’m permanently anchored to Castle Beach.”
She grabs the paperwork. “Go get your man, sweetie.”
I cross my fingers. “From your lips...”
Chapter 22
Tate
The heat of the day isn’t enough to keep me from chopping wood at my aunts’ old place. Sure, it’s the middle of summer and hotter than the devil’s ass, but it’s better than making a fool of myself by crawling to Quinn and begging her to reconsider closing herself off again.
I barely glance up as Barron’s white F-150 rolls up the driveway. He gets out, wearing one of his preppy-ass shorts with a Vineyard Vine’s shirt. The shirt, I like.
Hell, I have one on, too.
“Mind telling me why you’re preparing for winter five months earlier than you need to? Also, are we twinning?” He points to his shirt and then to mine, where a whale is wakeboarding behind a speedboat.
“Working out my frustrations with your sister.”
“She’s reacting to guilt.”
I drive the axe into the main stump I use to break up the wood, then wipe my brow with the back of my hand while adjusting my baseball cap. “I realize that, but she’s also back to shutting me out.”
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