She worked in silence for a few minutes. “He was so worried they had hurt you,” she told me quietly.
Taking a drink, I realized I hadn’t thought of that. Of course, they would assume something had happened to me. Of course, Gray would go batshit when he couldn’t get hold of me.
“I didn’t think of that,” I admitted.
“You didn’t drop it, Ash.” She looked up as she beat the eggs. “You took a fair hit when you were tackled.”
“That’s part of the game.”
“I know.” She went back to the eggs. “Is it me?”
“Is what you?” I asked as I drank my juice. The kitchen was half-lit, and the house was quiet. It was kind of peaceful and a little bit surreal. It’d been a long time since Quinn and I were in the kitchen together, just the two of us.
“Am I the reason you had an episode?”
“An episode,” I snorted in disgust. “Makes me sound like I should be on Netflix.”
“Ash, you’re deflecting,” she chided me.
Draining my glass empty, I set it down on the counter. “No. You’re not.”
“Then . . .”
“I don’t know, Queeny, I just needed it today.”
Her steady gaze held mine before I looked away. “You need to talk to someone?”
“No.”
“You need to tell the twins what’s going on with you.”
“Why? So they can smother me?” I asked her and knew I sounded pissed off.
“You’re being harsh.” Quinn put the eggs in the pan and watched me. “You’re not mad at me, so,” her look was sad, “you’re mad at Gray.”
“No.”
“Need a better poker face, my friend,” she told me unhappily. “He never meant to hurt you.”
“Queeny, just drop it. I’m not mad at him, you, Jett, or anyone else.” My hands rested on the countertop. “Iammad at the bastards who wrecked the girls’ apartment. We’re Devils — we can handle this shit.” My finger pointed to the ceiling. “Red upstairs? Not so much. This isn’t fair on her or Ava.”
Quinn’s head dipped as she added the spinach to the pan. “I know.”
“So we fix it,” I told her grimly. “And we will.”
“I know.”
“Good, now stop mothering me and give me my food,” I told her with a wink.
She smiled as she plated the omelet and then poured me some more juice. “Eat up,” she said as she took a seat beside me.
Looking at the innocent omelet, I felt my stomach roll, and I looked at her, the panic I couldn’t hide clearly showing on my face.
“It’s okay, a little bite at a time,” Quinn encouraged as she grabbed my hand. “You can do it.”
“It’s just an omelet.” I forced myself to sit straighter.
“Exactly, it’s not big, it’s healthy, and it’s delicious.” Quinn gave my hand a squeeze. “You can do this.”
