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“Who the fuck knows, man,” I said.
Quinn slammed the bottle of Jack Daniels he was holding onto the bar and, with his fists balled up at his sides, turned and walked away from us, slamming his way through the kitchen door and into the back of the restaurant.
“Jesus Christ,” Cason said. “Alright, I guess one of us is gonna need to talk to him. Wanna flip a coin?”
“Nah, I got this,” I said, making my way back to the kitchen.
I found Quinn in the back with a butcher's knife in hand, slicing up the ribs, ripping through
the meat with fury. I had to wonder if he was picturing me or Cason as he hacked and slashed at the ribs.
“Hey now, don't take it out on the meat,” I teased. “It ain't the pig's fault you're pissed off.”
“I'm not pissed,” he said, not looking up at me.
“You're not?” I cocked an eyebrow at my younger brother. “Sure coulda fooled me.”
“Okay, fine, maybe I am,” he said, shrugging. “What the fuck does it matter?”
“It matters because you're my brother, Quinn,” I said. “Are you seriously into this girl or something?”
He shrugged again and said nothing. As much as my brother tried to act tough, I could see in his eyes that he was struggling with something deeper than I could possibly understand. Of course, the fact that he wouldn't talk to me about it didn't help me understand it any better.
So, not being a shrink, I had to do my best to get it out of him. Even though our father taught us both to be tough as nails and to hide our emotions, I knew the value in sometimes being able to let shit out. It was like hitting a pressure release valve before you exploded or something. To be honest, it was something Quinn did better than all of us.
“You are, aren't you?” I asked.
“It's not that,” he said. “I mean, it is that. But I saw it in her eyes, Ben. She's been abused. And neither you or Cason seem to have a problem with it. Neither of you seem to care – unless it interferes with you guys getting your rocks off anyway.”
“Actually, I have a big problem with it,” I said, my voice rising. “If it's true.”
“It's true,” he said, giving me a look that could have curdled milk.
“Because you saw a bruise on her wrist?” I asked. “It could be any number of things, and until we know for sure, we – ”
He stopped me. “We shouldn't be assholes to her,” he said.
The steely look of determination and anger on his face took me by surprise. I'd never known Quinn to be so vehemently defensive of any woman before in my life.
“Okay, you're right,” I said. “Cason and I are acting like jerks. But it's just between us. It's how we've always screwed off with each other. You know that. And you know that I'd never treat a woman badly. You, of all people, know me better than that.”
His face softened somewhat. “Yeah, I know,” he said with a sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “Just something about her gets to me, you know? Seeing her look so fragile and seeing the hurt in her eyes – I just want to make it stop.”
“Because you're a good man, Quinn,” I said. “Do you honestly think either Cason or I would go out of our way to hurt her?”
Quinn shook his head. “Nah, I know you wouldn't. It's just – she's different for me, man.”
“How so?”
My brother stared off into the distance for a while before shaking his head again.
“Nothing,” he said. “Forget I said anything.”
***
Ada Roberts laughed when she opened the door and saw me standing on her porch out front. She just looked at me and shook her head, a smile on her face.
“Bennett McCormick,” she said. “What in heaven's name are you doing here?”
