Page 90 of A Simple Life

“Tell me.”

Her voice shook when she spoke. “She thought he was going to hit me. That’s why she punched him.”

I had thought the same thing from the furious look on his face, which was why I had started to block him. But hearing Quinn’s words, my rage was instant. “I thought you said he didn’t hit you.”

“He hit me once, years ago. But he knew the words hurt more, so he used those as his weapon of choice. But he liked to grab me, scream in my face. I learned to tell when he was about to. His hand would flex, the way it did just before—” She swallowed and met my eyes. “I didn’t know she saw that too.”

“That bastard.”

“How can a small child notice something like that?” she whispered. “She never said anything to me until today.”

“She is incredibly smart,” I assured her. “She gets that from you.”

“I should have left sooner.”

“You left when you could. Stop beating yourself up. Stop questioning your choices. You can’t change them.” I lifted her chin to mine. “She is fine, Quinn. Thriving, even. And today hasn’t set her back. Listen to her singing, telling her dolphin friend her stories. She’s happy. She’s safe. I know it sounds stupid, but junk-punching him was probably therapeutic for her. She knows she doesn’t have to fear him. And she has us. We’ll make sure she stays okay. We’ll find a therapist if you think she needs one. But, baby…stop, please.” I shook my head. “I wish I had kicked his ass. I still want to. He needs a good beatdown. Especially with this new information.” I huffed. “If I had known that, I would have taken him out. Put him in the hospital. I’m still tempted.”

“I don’t want you near him. I need you. I need you with me.”

I folded her into my arms. “I am. Now, I need you with me. In the present.”

“Ask me what I miss the most about Richton.”

“What?” I asked fondly.

“The farm.” Her lips trembled. “I don’t want to go back to my house tomorrow. I want to stay with you.”

Delight flooded me. I cupped her face. “Quinn, baby. Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to wait to be happy. You make me happy. You make Abby happy. You’re right. You’re it for us too, John. We both love you.”

I tugged her close. “Then we’ll have our own party in the room with our girl and order in whatever you want. Tomorrow, we’ll go home, and you’ll stay.” I drew in a long breath. “On one condition.”

Easing back, she frowned, tensing. “Which is?”

“You stay—as my wife.”

Her eyes widened.

“Marry me, Quinn. Let me adopt Abby. Let’s be a real family. Let’s make sure nothing and nobody can take her away from us.”

She was speechless.

“Quinn and Abby Elliott has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

She flung her arms around my neck.

“Yes!”

QUINN

Richton came into view, and I sighed happily. I glanced at John, who met my eyes and winked. He knew how much I wanted to come home. Last night, I had no doubt that if I said I wanted to leave right then, he would have calmly checked us out, driven us home, and never uttered another word about it.

But we stayed. Ordered room service. Watched a silly movie with Abby. He understood without saying a word that I simply couldn’t leave her last night. Not with what had happened and what she had confessed to me.

“I would hear yelling and look, Momma,” she whispered. “He was always mad. And his hand pumped. I saw it yesterday and thought he was gonna hurt you. I had to stop him.”

My heart had cracked at her words.