Loving Quinn Novel by North Rose

(Annora)

The sound of my father’s furious bellow echoes through his study. His outrage at the situation pales compared to mine. Only right now I am angrier at myself than at Kyle. The position I am in now is one of my creations.

Thank God I listened to my father when he insisted I make Kyle sign a prenup. A legally binding document stating all my property, stocks, and the rest of my finances were to remain mine in the case of a divorce, Kyle signed it without reading it. At the time, I hoped that was a positive sign. I assumed it meant he loved me for me and not for my wealth.

During the divorce, when the court denied him all that he demanded from me; Kyle’s face was crimson with indignation. The judge asked him if he even read the prenuptial agreement. From the expression on his lawyer’s face, I could see that he had, but Kyle hadn’t.

The divorce was granted, despite Kyle still seeking to argue with the judge. Later that night, Kyle violated the restraining order again. Thankfully, Grace was with my parents that night. She didn’t need to know what the man she called dad did to her mother.

I pass my fingers over the scar on my arm as I recall that night. My neighbor heard my cries of agony and called the police. When the cops showed up, Kyle had just slashed my arm with the b**r’s knife. He was seeking to murder me, but I blocked him with my arm when he

swung at me.

That is the man that is now seeking to take my daughter from me. The man who never wished to be her father in the first place. Now, he and his current wife are working to take her from me. I have no doubt at all that this is Lana’s suggestion. Kyle wouldn’t have thought of

this on his own.

“With his arrest record, I extremely doubt there will be any court that grants Kyle custody. They imprisoned him for attempted murder, assault, not to mention all the times he violated the restraining order. For this last time, he will go back to prison.”

My dad is telling me what I already know.

“Speaking of the last time. Explain to me how that took place?”

“Pardon me?” I ask slightly confused.

“He showed up to the house, struggled to get inside, but was blocked by who?”

**Shit. Quinn stopped Kyle from slapping me. How do I explain to my father that Quinn is back?

“I have a photocopy of the report, Annora. There is no point in hiding who was there with you. Did you expect I would be furious that Quinn Greyson helped you?”

Shock crosses my face as I glance up at my father. “Why do you have the arrest report?”

“I had Lorelai fax it over while you and your mother were preparing dinner with Grace earlier. Why was Quinn at your house? Does he

know about Grace yet?”

“He does.”

“Great, that will help. Grace deserves to get to know the man. I am sorry that I could never locate him for you.”

can’t have this discussion with him right now. Quickly rising from my chair, I leave the study. My father, taking Quinn’s side, sends a twist of guilt through me. He is correct. Grace deserves to know her father. Even if I can’t stand the man right now.

Grace is in the living room at the rear of the house with my mom. They are at a wide table working on a ji**w puzzle. My mom is telling her a tale about my older brother, Evan. From the tone of her voice, the story is lively.

“Mom, did Uncle Fric really break your arm?”

Ah, the day I fell out of the treehouse. “He didn’t break my arm. I fell out of the treehouse at our old house. He shoved me, but he didn’t realize that I was so close to the railing. It was an accident. Mom, can you get Grace some juice? Then when you come back, there is Something I require your help with”

“Alright.”

While she is gone, I draw another chair up to the table to help them with their puzzle. This discussion is going to be tough, so having something to do with my hands will steady my nerves. Grace realizes that Kyle isn’t her father, so that part will be easy.

“Here you go, Grace.”

After sitting the glass of juice on a coaster, my mother sits back in her chair. When her eyes find mine, I see she knows what I am about to do. This conversation has been a long time coming.

“Grace, honey, we need to talk.”

“Am I in trouble? I am sorry about Saturday.”

I laugh at her innocence. Yet the expression in her sea-green eyes reminds me so much of Quinn’s. Thinking of him sends a spasm of hurt through me. This is going to be tougher than I realized.

“No, baby, you are not in trouble.”

“Then what do we need to talk about?”

“Saturday, I received some awful news. Kyle has filed for joint custody of you.”

Grace pulls a face that clearly states how she feels about it. Her nose is scrunched up in distaste. “I despise him. He isn’t my father. Can he actually take me from you?”

“He is going to try. There is also something else I need to discuss with you. It isn’t about Kyle.”

“Is it just as dreadful?” She glances back down at the puzzle, identifying a new piece.

I chuckle at the expression on her face. Grace has never held back on speaking her mind. Something I know for certain; she gets from Quinn. He was always one to express what he thought, no matter the repercussions. Something that has gotten our daughter in trouble on more than one occasion.

“Do you recall when you were younger when you asked me about your father? Your real father.”

Grace snaps her head up at the reference of her actual father. In her eyes, I see all the questions she wishes to ask. All the questions she has carried inside all these years. Guilt swamps me again. Not only did I rob Quinn of our child, but by not sharing my memories of him with Grace, I cheated her out of him too.

I hold up my hand to indicate that I will be right back. Going into the library, I seize my purse and walk back to the living room. This morning, before I left the house, I put a few pictures in my purse. I need to show Grace a part of my past.

“When I was eighteen, before I moved off to school in England, I met a boy named Quinn.”

I set one picture on the table in front of Grace. Quinn’s grinning face peers up at me from the worn photograph. He was sitting behind me in the cheap photo booth at the carnival. We were very young and in love that summer. The second picture I place on the table is one I took with my grandpa’s old Polaroid camera. Quinn was sleeping soundly and was oblivious of me taking the picture. It was one of the rare times he was ever at peace.

“That summer was full of magic and wonder for me. However, when September arrived, I traveled home, and Quinn went to bootcamp.”

“He was a soldier?”

The way Grace uses the term ‘was’ regarding Quinn makes my heart constrict. There was no way I would have ever learned if he had fallen in battle. That thought breaks my heart. I have messed up so badly with all of this.

“He still is.”

Surprise fills Grace’s eyes when my meaning dawns on her. “He is alive?”

“Yes, and he wishes to see you.”

A frown appears on her face. “He knows about me?”

Here is where I must confess to her the truth. All of it. “He didn’t until today. That is my fault, Grace, not his.”

The confused look she sends me causes me to glance over at my mom.

“When your mom found out she was going to have a baby, your grandpa and I tried to locate Quinn for her. He had just left bootcamp to travel on his first deployment. The Army wouldn’t provide us his location because we were not family.”

“Later, after you were born, there was so much going on with my life. School, residency, later moving back to the United States. Nwas very busy being your mom, so busy being a doctor, that it just wasn’t a priority. It should have been, and I will always regret not finding him for you. There wasn’t a day that passed by that I didn’t think about him. You have his eyes.”

“Does he actually want to meet me?”

The way her voice quivers makes me draw her into my arms. I plant a kiss on her forehead when I pull away. There are tears on her cheeks and fear in her eyes.

“He does. When I told him about you, he wept, just like you are now. I named you after his mother. Elizabeth Greyson. She was his best friend. I think, given time, you two can be friends too.”

“When can I meet him?”

(Quinn)

When I pull up to Annora’s house, my nerves skyrocket. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans and open the car door. I haven’t been this nervous to talk to a woman since I first met Annora. Now, here I am, racing up her driveway feeling like I am eighteen again.

I roll my shoulders to loosen up as I look at her door. As I lift my hand to knock, my cellphone buzzes. I ignore it since it i Dionne calling again.

For the fifth time since I hung up on her earlier. Do I wish to know what she needs? Maybe, but not right now.

Dionne can go **k herself for all I care.

o doubt

Finally, I knock on the door. Patience has never been a virtue of mine, so I ring the buzzer after a few moments of waiting. Irritation builds within me when there is no reply after five minutes. I desperately need to atone for what I suggested to Annora.

I can’t do that if she doesn’t answer the d**n door,

The annoying ring of my cellphone sounds again. Cursing vehemently, I pull it out of my pocket. My eyebrows lift in shock as I see Annora’s name flash on my screen.

“Annie? Please answer your door.”

“I can’t because I am not at home.”

Well, that explains why she hasn’t answered. Other than the fact that I pi**d her off and hurt her severely. Which I understand.

“Can we talk about what happened at my lace? Please.”

“No. However, if you wish to meet your daughter, then you will come to the address I am texting to you now.”

Before I can say anything further, she disconnects the call. Hope has me rushing down the front walkway to my car. At the ping from my phone, I see the address she sent me. After adding the address to my car’s GPS, I start the forty-five-minute trip.

What the hell will I say to Grace when I meet her? How will she react to me? Panic makes me pull over at a gas station. With the shirt I am wearing, all my tattoos are noticeable. There is no way I want her to look at all that or the scars that some of them try to cover.

I have spare clothes in the trunk of my car for when I am out at the gym. There is a long-sleeved gray button-up shirt I can put on. After removing it from the trunk, I slip it on, then get back behind the wheel. I can feel the nerves return as I pull back on the highway.

Tears sting my eyes when Grace’s face flashes through my mind. She is so goddamn beautiful. Those eyes of hers are like looking in a mirror at mine. I can imagine the way Annora felt each time she looked at Grace. Even though I was far away, she had a piece of me with her every day.

When I pull up to the address given to me, I study the exterior for a few minutes before I pull up into the circular driveway. The two-story brick house is old but looks to be in excellent condition. The porch light is on, along with more lights on the bottom floor.

After parking my car, I stroll up to the front door to ring the bell. The door opens a few moments later by a woman that I recognize. Annora’s mother, Vivien. Her eyes are warm when she sees me, reminding me of all the times she welcomed me to their family gatherings

that summer.

Her hair is shorter, she is older, but her eyes are the same. Welcoming. I let out the breath I was holding when she reaches out to pull me into a hug. That was always her way. Vivien is a hugger. Something that made me nervous as hell when I was eighteen. Now, it brings me nothing but comfort.

“Come in, let me get a look at you.” Vivien steps back, allowing me to come in. She fine-looking man, Quinn.”

Oks

me over, then nods once. “You have grown into a

“Vivien, let the man do what he came here for.”Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

A deep voice says from the open door to my left. I turn to face the man who put the fear of God in me that summer. Alexander Winters stands in the doorway, his eyes assessing me much like his wife’s had a moment before. I stand my ground like I did back then.

“Relax, son. There is a conversation you and I will have, but now isn’t the time. Go on back to the living room. It is down that hall. Your girls are waiting for you.”

Alexander points to the hallway behind his wife. I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. So many emotions are swimming through me right now. The past is colliding with the present in a bittersweet way.

I snuck around with their daughter all summer long. We did so much that her parents wouldn’t have approved of. So much that I hoped they would never learn. They must have hated me when she told them I knocked her up. Yet here they are now, welcoming me into their home. Pointing me toward their daughter and granddaughter.

With a nod of my head, I walk past Vivien and down the hall. The sound of laughter coming from the living room makes me slow my steps as nerves grip me again. I am about to come face to face with my daughter for the first time.

I have been shot at, survived bombings, and walked away because that was my job. Now I am terrified by the thought of a little girl. One