I should’ve stayed.
I should’ve squared my fucking shoulders and found a way to deal with him, because sooner or later, I would be forced to. Like now.
I need to find the body before Hugo does. I can’t protect Madoc without it. And I need to keep Green Street from spilling over onto the people I love.
My childhood home sits dark on the corner as the sun sets, and I slow down, taking in the familiar scents of the neighborhood and my mother’s old bedroom window upstairs. It would’ve been nice to sell this house with a smile, but the door still doesn’t feel closed. Like a part of me is still in there.
Quinn will take good care of the place.
I’m about to breeze by, but Farrow Kelly’s bike sits at the curb and I hit the brakes.
I glance at the front door, seeing it’s cracked open. I look around for her bicycle, but I don’t see it. I pull into the driveway and park the car. Is he just giving her rides all the time now?
Stepping into the house, I try not to charge like I have any right to dictate who she comes and goes with, but I’m really fucking regretting leaving a bed upstairs now. Even if thoughts of her and everything she did to herself the other night have haunted me since.
I climb the stairs, pushing open the door to my mother’s old room and then my room.
Farrow Kelly stands at the window, looking into the back yard, his eyes turned over his shoulder at me.
I dart my eyes around, looking for Quinn.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, throwing open the closet doors.
But she’s not here.
Farrow turns, drifting lazily to the end of the bed. “I could ask you the same thing, boss. Did the owner give you permission to be here?”
“I’m the owner.”
“Grace Morrow is the owner.” He smirks and then clarifies. “Wasthe owner.”
I take a step toward him. “Where’s Quinn?”
He laughs under his breath, and then meets my eyes, smiling like a self-satisfied little prick.
Grabbing him by the collar just as I did his boss a while ago, I haul him up so we’re nose to nose and shove him off. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl.
He doesn’t lose his smile. “Trying to decide where I want my bed.” He knocks his knee against the foot of mine, forcing it to bang against the wall again and again. “Maybe a mattress on the floor would be a quieter place to fuck.”
Quinn flashes in my head. “Where is she?”
“Quinn?” he clarifies. “At work, maybe? Or at her new place?”
Her new place?
Holding my eyes, he closes his, laughing again. “You thought she bought your house.”
She didn’t? I retrace the conversation I had with her yesterday. She didn’t deny buying a house. If she didn’t get this one, then…
“I did,” he finally says. “Ibought your house.”
I close the distance between us. “What?”
“Or rather, my father bought it for me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I’m shouting now. “You live in Weston.”
“I do.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “But I want a place here too.”
