“Who said anything was wrong?”
“The strain in your voice and the fact that you’ve never called me before.”
“I was in the grocery store, and I saw a tall guy in all black. It all came back, and I just stood there.”
“Are you okay? Was it one of them?”
“No. It was just some kid.” My voice cracks. “I panicked over some young kid. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“We went through a traumatic event—”
“Please don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not. When I have a nightmare, I get up and check all the locks on the doors and the window. I peer around the perimeter of my place, terrified they’re out there lurking somewhere. I get it, believe me. It’s okay to be freaked out. And that’s the same thing I tell myself. Not me blowing smoke.”
“Yeah? Well, it doesn’t feel true.”
“Never does,” she whispers.
“I don’t know why it feels better admitting that to you.”
“Because we’re probably both lying to everyone else about how okay we are?”
I snicker. “You got that spot on.”
“Hard to be open and honest when they’re all watching and waiting for you to snap. I’m getting the same thing from my people.”
“Why do you sound so calm about it?” I ask.
Her laughter rings in my ear. “Because women by trade are better at hiding their pain. Don’t you know what by now?”
“Better than you can imagine,” I reply, thinking of my mother and the smile she put on as she helped portray the image of a picture-perfect family.
“Are you good now?”
“I am. Thank you.”
“Anytime. You talked me down, at an ungodly hour. Don’t hesitate to call me.”
“Same goes to you.”
I disconnect knowing this is worse than I anticipated.
Chapter Three
Quinn
“So when are you getting back on the horse?”
“Hello to you, too, Max,” I say, shaking my head at my older brother.
“What? I’m trying to tough love you. Everyone else is coddling.”
I sit up on the couch and swing my legs around. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, when was the last time you were robbed at gunpoint and had to watch a man damn near die in front of you?”