Quinn lifts his hand, showing me two fingers and then flops his head onto my shoulder. I give him the time he needs, gently stroking his arm until he looks up again.
“If you want some moral support, let me know?” He bites his lip and looks away. “Sorry if that’s an overstep.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head. “You’d do that for me?”
He meets my stare. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“We’ve only been dating since Sunday.”
Quinn rolls his eyes. “And we’ve been friends and housemates for a few months. The offer’s there. I won’t be offended if you don’t take it. It’s probably a conversation you want to have privately with your brother.”
I stare at the wall opposite. Will I get the chance to talk to Beau in private, or will Fraser be by his side? If that’s the case, would I want Quinn there? The difference is that Beau and Fraser are engaged and have been together a lot longer. They have a solid foundation, whereas Quinn and I don’t. I heard what Quinn said about being there for me—for each other—but I can’t help but worry that if I lean too hard now, he’ll decide I’m too much like hard work and walk away. Maybe I am.
“Stefan?”
I shake myself. “Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.”
“I noticed.” Quinn sits and stretches. “I’m going to get some work done. Those illustrations won’t draw themselves. If you want me with you when you talk to Beau, come get me.”
“Thank you.”
He leans forward and pecks me on the cheek. “You’re welcome. I’ve leant on you enough times over the last few days. Literally!”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
Without waiting for an answer, he gets up and leaves, leaving me with a lot to think about. I’ve done everything I need to prepare for work tonight, so I read until Beau comes home. He, Fraser, and Preston all tend to get back within about half an hour of each other. Sure enough, I hear the door open and shut three times in relatively quick succession, coupled with the sound of happy voices. My stomach churns. Do I want to ruin my twin’s day? Whether I want to or not, I have to tell him what little I know about Mum.
I put my book back on the shelf and then head towards the kitchen, pausing outside Quinn’s room. I raise my hand and rap my knuckles gently against the door. There’s no reply. Either he’s not in there, or he’s asleep. I knock again, slightly louder, certain I won’t wake him if he’s sleeping. Still no answer. I open the door a crack and peek inside. Quinn is curled up on his bed, definitely asleep. He’s so beautiful I’m unable to tear my gaze away from him. Before I’m able to break free of whatever spell I’m under, he wakes with a start, gasping and staring at nothing for a few seconds before focusing on me.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” Quinn smiles sleepily and tucks his hand under his cheek. “Is Beau home?”
“I think so. I was just going to talk to him.”
“Want me to come?”
“Yes.”
“Give me a minute?”
“Of course,” I take a half step back.
“You can come inside. I just need to splash some cold water on my face.”
I breathe out as I go into his room and shut the door. While he goes to his bathroom, I take a look at the sketch on his drafting table. It’s of a boy and a girl, holding a chalice of some sort. The galley copy of the book he’s illustrating lies open beside the drawing, so I read a page of the story.
“You realise I’m going to have to kill you now, don’t you?”
I look around to see Quinn leaning against the wall, arms folded, with a mischievous smile on his face.
“Maybe you shouldn’t leave top-secret things lying around.”
“Maybe.” He moves, picks up a sketchpad, and carefully tears a page out of it. He hands me the drawing. “This is for you.”
My heart stutters as I look at the drawing of myself. I’ve seen it before, although it was unfinished. Quinn was working on it in the lounge. He fell asleep, and the sketch pad landed on the floor. It had been impossible not to look at it. Seeing myself through Quinn’s eyes is both fascinating and humbling. I feel beautiful.
