He nodded slowly. “We all knew Liam’s father was abusive. Liam would disappear on us for weeks. We saw the bruises, we witnessed his dramatic mood swings. We didn’t … we didn’t know how to talk to him about it, and we didn’t try. I … I wished we’d tried. That’s why I never stay quiet now if I see a friend hurting or in trouble.”
I leaned in closer. “Quinn, you don’t know what happened to Liam. You can’t blame yourself, whether it was a tragic accident or if he went into that water of his own volition.”
“Eoghan blamed us.” His expression tightened and understanding dawned as I remembered Eoghan’s verbal attack in Pages & Perks. “He tried to get the police to believe it was foul play, but Paul Young has been a policeman on this island for thirty years. He’d had more than one neighbor call him with concerns that Eoghan was abusing Liam and his mother. Paul couldn’t do anything about it because Liam and his mumdenied it. He didn’t trust Eoghan, and he knew me and Forde well, so he didn’t think too much of the claims, but Eoghan got the village gossiping. Forde and I were under a microscope for weeks. Finally, Eoghan and Liam’s mother left Leth Sholas and we could breathe again, as horrible as that might sound.”
He eyed me warily. “I’ve never gotten drunk since. What happened with Kiera and then Liam … I knew that alcohol was the enemy, not the answer. A pint or a dram is my limit now.”
I knew why he’d told me that.
He was telling me so I needn’t worry that he’d inadvertently hurt me again because of being too drunk to remember his actions.
I avoided responding to that and asked, “So, you think Eoghan is back now for some kind of misguided revenge? After all these years?”
“I think the only thing stopping him was his wife, and now that she’s gone, he’s got nothing but his own demons to face. I think he’d rather direct his anger outward than inward.” Quinn straightened and I did too, mirroring him as he turned into me. “Until I have some evidence to prove that he’s the one behind all this, I don’t want you venturing off to places alone.”
“I lived in Glasgow for eighteen years. I can take care of myself.”
“Please, Taran. If anything happened to you …” He gave a sharp jerk of his head. “Nothing can happen to you. So let me accompany you to the post office.”
Realizing it would be the ultimate act of pettiness to deny him this after he’d trusted me with his story, I found myself nodding. Plus … it was becoming clear to me that Quinn’s life during our estrangement hadn’t been sunshine and roses. While he had the joy his children brought him, there had also been loss and suffering. Truthfully, I didn’t want that for him. In the past,in my pettier moments, I’d wished him misery. But in reality, I hated the thought of Quinn being unhappy.
“Fine. You can come with me.”
His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “Then you can come with me to Angus’s game.”
I gaped at his outrageous suggestion. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you scared?” he taunted with a sly grin.
I shoved him playfully and he laughed, the sound warming me in all my feminine places. “I’m not coming to your son’s game like a … like I’m your … you know.”
“Och, no one will think that.”
“No,” I insisted firmly.
“Then join us for dinner afterward.”
“I have to get the ferry home. Sorry.”
Quinn grimaced but thankfully let it go.
28.Taran
“There is no such package, there is no such thing as not being able to send it across the ferry for insurance purposes, and no one from this post office would have called you regarding it,” the woman behind the Perspex window snapped.
My cheeks flushed at her nasty tone as Quinn and I stood at the desk with a queue of people behind us. I pressed my phone screen against her window. “Here. This is the post office’s phone number, is it not?”
With an impatient roll of her eyes, she took a second before leaning forward to peer at it. She frowned. “That is our number. But that doesn’t prove someone called you regarding whatever it is you’re talking about.”
I gaped at her. “Why on earth would I make it up?”
“You’d be surprised by the stories I hear in this building.” She waved a hand at us. “Now I can’t help you any further, and I have customers to see to. Actual customers, not silly women with silly stories. Have a good day.”
Infuriated by her appalling customer service, I gritted my teeth and replied, “I hope you have the day you deserve.”
I heard Quinn stifle a laugh at the same time his hand curled around my elbow to tug me away from the counter. “Can youbelieve the cheek of it?” I huffed as we walked outside. “She was unhelpful from the moment we stepped up to the counter.”
“I hope you have the day you deserve,” Quinn repeated, shaking his head on a grin.
