Page 118 of Turning Back

“Yeah, well… I just keep hearing that stupid detective announcing the fact that he’s the one who found you. I cannot believe he did that.”

“There’s just… so many lies,” I say. I feel so defeated. I don’t even know how to describe it.

“Just stick to the story,” Bric says. “Come on, we’ll get a drink and wait for Quin—”

“I’m right here,” Quin says. He’s standing in the hallway. Still. Like he was about to come in the bedroom, but he heard us talking and decided to see what we had to say when he wasn’t around.

“Perfect,” I mutter, taking Adley from Bric and going out to sit in my window chair again. “That’s just perfect.”

Chapter Thirty - Quin

“Hey,” Bric says, running his fingers through his hair. He always does that when he’s nervous. It’s a tell with him. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” I raise an eyebrow at him. Is he fucking serious? “There’s so much bullshit going on here, I have no idea where to start.”

Bric pushes past me and follows Rochelle over to the window. “I hope you’re not gonna start shit. I think we’ve had enough for one day.”

“Me?” I just can’t. “None of what’s happening has anything to do with me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Bric says. He walks into the kitchen, grabs two beers from the fridge, and offers me one. When I don’t acknowledge him, he shrugs, puts one back, and pops the top of his.

I laugh. He’s got some balls. “Is that how you plan on spinning this? Everything is my fault?”

“Of course not,” Rochelle calls out from the other end of the loft. “Didn’t you hear? Smith Baldwin blames me for everything. According to pretty much everybody, I’m the bad guy today.”

I stare at the back of her head. I can see Adley’s smiling face. It hurts my heart to look at her. So fucking much.

“I’ve thought things through on my way over here,” I say in a low, calm voice. “I even sat down in the garage for a few minutes, making sure I have it straight. I can deal with Adley being yours,” I say to Bric. “I can. It won’t be easy, but I’d be OK with it in the end. But I have no idea how I’d feel if she’s neither of ours.”

Rochelle shakes her head and grunts in disgust.

“We’re never going to know,” Bric says. “So just stop.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking back at Bric. “I figured that’d be your response. That’s the line you’ve been feeding me this whole time, right? We’re both her father. We’re a team. A thriple, Rochelle calls it. How cute. So damn cute. But what I want to know—what I need to know—is what’s really going on with that investigator guy, Bric. Let’s start there.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Bric says.

“No?” I ask. “You lied to me and you don’t think that’s a big deal?” My voice is still calm. I refuse to have a fight in front of Adley. I will not do it. But I’m gonna have my say. Right now. “Because if that’s the case, Bric, I don’t know who the hell you are.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, walking over to the window to sit in the chair next to Rochelle.

“It’s OK,” Rochelle says, sniffling. “He doesn’t know who I am either, remember?”

Stay calm, I tell myself.

I count to ten, then join them, taking the chair on the other side of Rochelle.

“Is that going to be your angle too?” I ask her. “Blame Quin?”

“You have no idea what’s going on.”

“So tell me,” I say, turning in my chair so I can see her face better. “Tell me, Rochelle. Explain to me again how you ended up in Denver after leaving me behind a year ago? And this time,” I say, looking at Bric, “don’t leave out the part where Bric finds out where you live the day before, OK? Do me that favor. Don’t lie this time.”

Bric lets out a long sigh. “Chella did hire that guy.”

“And he did find her,” I add.

“Yes. He found her right away.”