“Don’t touch me!” I hit his hands away.
“Mo luaidh?—”
“Don’t call me that either. I am not your darling.”
“Taran, please?—”
“I hate you, Quinn,” I announced with utter honesty.
He flinched, having the audacity to look wounded.
“Know that every piece of love I ever had for you is now just hate. Ihateyou.”
He looked away, that damn muscle in his jaw clenching.
As I fled his flat, part of me wanted to jump on the next ferry and get off the island so I never had to see him or Kiera again. But I was afraid of what I’d do. So, I ran to the only person I could trust. The only person who understood what it was like to suddenly lose the love of your life.
The only person who made me feel safe.
As soon as I walked into my mum’s house, I fell into her arms and cried a lifetime of tears on her shoulder.
13.Quinn
July, This Year
Taran wouldn’t look me in the eye, and it was driving me mad. After I’d given her the rundown on how to operate the radios at the LSLS, we’d settled into our prospective seats and she pulled out her phone.
I hated smartphones.
They made ignoring someone far too easy.
When it became clear she was settling into stare at her phone for the long haul, I cleared my throat. “Do you want a coffee?”
She flicked her eyes toward me and back to her phone. “Mmm. Milk, no sugar. Thanks.”
Grumbling inwardly, I left to go make the drinks and grab some snacks. I’d tried to get out of volunteering tonight because I still had the kids, but no one else could do it. Thankfully, since my chat with Heather, my daughter’s attitude had completely changed. There were no complaints from her or Angus as I’d dropped them off to spend the night at their aunt Cammie’s. Infact, before I ventured out the door, my daughter had told me she was proud of me for volunteering.
My mum would sometimes have them stay at the farm, but Cammie’s place was in town and more accessible for the kids. They had no great-grandparents to visit because my maternal grandparents lived on the mainland in a retirement community. When my grandfather was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s, they’d sold the B and B they owned out near Greg’s farm, along with four acres of land. They’d used the money to pay for the stay in the assisted-living retirement home just outside Perth. It was difficult to get out to see them, but I tried to make the trip a few times a year with the kids.
As for my father’s parents, who knew. My dad wasn’t born on the island, and he’d told us he had no parents, whatever the fuck that meant. Both Kiera’s grandparents had already passed away.
Anyway, Aunt Cammie was a popular relative for my kids to stay with and that’s all that mattered to me. That they were safe and happy while I couldn’t be with them.
Had I known Taran was to be my volunteer partner, I would have been less reluctant.
Now that I had her here where she couldn’t run away, I needed to make the most of it.
The past year, I’d made some inroads with Taran. She’d gone from hating my guts to tolerating my presence, which I felt was quite a big step.
However, Cammie’s revelations, and how it helped my relationship with Heather, had been on my mind ever since. It had me revisiting painful memories and analyzing them from a new perspective.
By the time I got back to Taran with a tray of coffee and snacks, I’d worked myself up to starting an open and honest conversation with her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, lowering her phone to take a coffee. “So … we just sit here for hours waiting for someone to call?”
“No, we sit here hoping no one is in need of us.”
“Right.”
