"Mam." My voice is emotionless now. "She told him I drove Orla Geraghty to her death. She described exactly what she did to that girl, and she told him it was me."
"You were involved?—"
"I tried to stop it. I came to you, I told you what Daire was doing to her and you hit me and told me I was lying." I watch her face, needing to see some remorse. "You remember that. I know you remember that."
But Mam never fails to shock me, the anger remains in her eyes as she glares at me. "You've always been dramatic," she says, not admitting the truth. "Even as a child, everything was always a catastrophe."
"I could be bleeding on this floor," I say, "and you'd still ask what I did wrong."
The hallway goes very quiet. Mam looks at me. The disdain is clear to see in her expression. Daire’s right, she hates me. "Maybe," she says, quietly, but the word feels as though it’s been screamed at me, "if you'd been less difficult to love, it wouldn't have always been so easy to choose her."
I suck in a deep breath, once again trying everything I can not to let the tears fall.
"That's enough," I hear the rumble of my da’s voice.
Mam freezes. Her entire body goes solid as she turns to Daire and says something low that I don't catch. Neither of them look at da. Instead, they turn and go down the other stairs, away from Da and I.
I stand in the hallway, not looking at anything as Mam’s words replay over and over in my head. Difficult to love.
"Quinn,” Da says softly, I turn to face him and I see the softness in his eyes but they don’t mean shit to me. Not anymore, he’s let this happen.
"Go get some air," he says. “Give them time?—”
I bark out a laugh. “Time? For what? This shit’s been happening since I was a kid. You damn well know it has, Da, but then again, does anyone actually give a crap that the youngest Delaney is the family punching bag both physically and emotionally?” I ask with a raised brow.
He doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns and walks back downstairs.
I watch him go and something inside me settles. Not in a good way. In a final way, because for years I've waited for my father to put me first. Just once. Today should have been easy, and he still couldn't do it.
I stand in the hallway and realize that Caden was wrong. Da isn’t team Quinn, I doubt he ever has been.
But team Quinn means not actively making it worse, it doesn't mean making it right. Ronan Delaney is still Ronan Delaney, and I'm still the child he doesn't know what to do with. That's not going to change because he told his wife and daughter that's enough.
I pull in ragged breaths, trying my hardest to push the pain deep down. I can’t deal with it right now. I need to breathe through it, I need to push it away, put it in a box and lock it up tight.
I hear footsteps on the stairs and I don’t need to look to know that it’s my brothers.
Caden appears first, the fury on his face is unlike anything I’ve ever seen from him before. He takes one look at me and turns back to the stairs.
Daithí comes up behind him and puts a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Caden," Daithí says, his voice is very quiet. Too quiet for Daithi.
"You heard what they said to Quinn , what our Mam —"
"I know." Daithí doesn't let go of his arm. "Not now."
"When?" Caden's voice is lethal, hard, like a whip. "When is it ever the right time? It's been eighteen years of this and we just stand here?—"
I suck in a sharp breath, he’s this angry for me?
"Caden," I say softly and Daithí's eyes move to me. "Come here."
Caden looks at me, and then he lets out a ragged breath. One that makes his entire body shake, but he comes puts his arms around me and holds on. I let him, because I'm tired and because it's Caden.
"I'm sorry," he says into my hair. "I'm so sorry we've let this go on this long."
I don't say anything. I just stand there and let him hold me for a minute.
Daithí is watching us with an expression I've seen on him before. That cold, controlled stillness that means he's deciding something.
