“No, you didn’t.” He winced through the hard-fought chuckle.
“Oh, but I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I was mad at him.”
“How’d that go over?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, about as well as can be expected.”
Quinn croaked out a laugh. “It’s that evil streak. You might have everyone else fooled, but I’ve got your number.”
I raised a finger to my lips. “Shhh. That’s our secret. You don’t want me to reveal yours, do you?”
“Oh my god, Grace. When are you ever going to shut up about that?”
“What? It doesn’t make you less of a man for likingBridget Jones.”
Quinn attempted to protest, but that led to him wincing.
“Is this morphine?” I asked, pointing to the clear bag hanging from a hook. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to squeeze it? Because I will. I’ll strangle the little sucker until you’re high as a kite.”
“No, just stop making me laugh.”
“Would you prefer I make you cry? Because I can do that too.”
“I already did.”
“Cry?” I cocked my head into the dog-shock position. It wasn’t often I saw my brother cry. Tantrum crying, yes, but real, emotional tears were something he avoided at all costs. Quinn had always been stoic like that.
“I told you I had a bad day.”
I smoothed down his hair, my face twisting at the memory. “Bad day doesn’t quite describe it, does it?”
“No,” his voice cracked. “No, it doesn’t.”
“I’m so sorry about Brandon.”
His jaw clenched and he looked away, but that didn’t stop the words from coming. “I can’t get it out of my head, Grace. We were all talking backstage, and he was being a punk like always, trying to embarrass Tucker with his request for anal beads after the show. How can he be gone?”
Quinn’s hands trembled, an indication of his profound shock. I grabbed them both in mine and held them steady, tipping my head to his and allowing him the time to mourn for his friend. I might not be Quinn’s plus one anymore, but I still knew him better than anyone else in this world, and I knew he would suffer this loss for a long time to come.
“I have so much anger right now,” I admitted. “Like I’m going to explode. I watched you go down, Quinn. I could see you lying up there on the stage. I tried to get to you, but Elliott…” I clenched my teeth. “Elliott held me down. He wouldn’t let me climb onto the stage to help you.”
“Good.”
“No, not good. Do you have any idea what I would have done to him if he’d prevented me from saving you and you’d died?”
“That didn’t happen.”
“But it could have. I was already plotting Elliott’s murder under those chairs when I heard your voice. There you were stumbling over to us with a bullet in your chest and then somehow, you go into commando mode and save us all through an exit under the stage. You did all that and I couldn’t even shove one machismo hero off my back.”
“You always were a weakling.”
“Hey,” I laughed.
“Seriously, though, don’t be pissed at Elliott. He was just reacting. We all were. There are a lot worse things than a guy’s instinct kicking in to save his girl.”
