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“He’s a total prick to freeze you out like that,” Lou said tartly, but with a vehemence that made me think it was a good thing she’d never encountered my father. Things would probably not go well for him, especially if she happened to be armed.
She flexed her hands before shaking off a little of the tension that had come over her. “You don’t see him anymore, do you? You shouldn’t let what he thought get to you. He was obviously wrong to dismiss your talent.”
“Yeah.” My head drooped. “I don’t know. It’s hard to set all of that history aside. My mom is great, really—she’s always been there for me in every way she can without totally blowing up her marriage. I know how much it hurt her, fighting with him over me. Thinking she might lose him completely. When they weren’t dealing with my skating interest, they were really happy together.”
I paused and then admitted the doubt that’d weighed on me for so long. “Sometimes I wonder if it was really worth it. I was so set on pursuing skating that it messed up both of their lives, hers especially, and after all that, it’s not as if I’ve accomplished anything so incredibly great so far.”
Niko scoffed lightly and gave me a little shake. “What are you talking about? You’re great already, and soon you’ll be proving that to even more people than you already have. I wouldn’t have chased you halfway around the world otherwise.”
Lou poked me in the arm. “Yeah, you’re a superstar who just needed a bit of a break for understandable reasons. Really, the two of us should start an Unsupportive Parents Club. It sucks, but we’re not letting them win.”
I couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm. “I probably shouldn’t complain when I know whatyou’redealing with. You’re right. No one gets to win but us.”
“That’s the spirit!” Niko leaned closer to the display case. “Now about that dessert…”
In the end, we ordered five portions of tiramisu for the table, figuring that if Quentin turned his nose up at the treat, the rest of us could easily find a way to make his portion disappear. As we returned to the table, the waitress was already bringing the dessert plates over.
Quentin eyed his like he was scanning it for its calorie count, but he kept any snarky observations he might have had to himself. As I settled into my seat, he glanced at me, hesitated, and leaned closer so he could pitch his voice for just my ears.
“Hey, I—I’m sorry about before. About stirring up shitty memories. It’s hard not to fall into the habit of getting on your case, but I really didn’t mean to poke a sore spot like that.”
I could tell from his awkward stance and the faint flush that’d come over his face that he meant it, as embarrassed as he was to be apologizing. Well, I guessed he would know what it was like having the baggage of harsh parents.
I offered a small, crooked smile in return. “I appreciate the apology.”
Quentin paused again. Then he said in a halting tone, “It’s actually pretty impressive that you got that far all on your own dime.”
Somehow the acknowledgment did more to smooth over the animosity between us than his apology had. I had to answer, “Considering the challenges we’ve all had to deal with, it’s pretty impressive any of us are here.”
Quentin’s eyes glittered with eager determination. “And not going anywhere.”
He deigned to take a bite of his dessert and seemed to contemplate its flavors for several seconds while he chewed. When Lou tried to steal a chunk off his plate, he tugged it closer with a waggle of his fork.
Watching him, my urge to throw him out a window—or send him back to Boston on his own—faded away. He had been an ass, but I’d never have expected the old Quentin to admit he’d done anything wrong, let alone apologize for it.
If even Quentin Wolfe could adjust his attitude for the greater good, then there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t too.
EIGHTEEN
Luciana
Thursday night foundme in the last place I’d have wanted to be: the back seat of one of Mom’s cars, being driven by a Deadly Rose lackey to a hand-off with a man who probably wanted to dance on my corpse.
And lucky me, I hadanotherman shooting daggers at me with his dark eyes from the seat beside me.
“I hope you’re ready for this, pequeña rosa,” Octavio said in a disdainful tone, rubbing his forehead just above his spiky eyebrow piercing. “Maverick has been chafing in the Deadly Rose yoke lately, getting big ideas about who should really be in charge. I’d be surprised if hedoesn’ttry to screw us over today to show off for the rest of his stupid outfit.”
Oh, great. So not only did Maverick have personal reasons to want to stick it to me, he’d become even more of an aggressive asshole in general.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I said, keeping my own voice even.
Octavio narrowed his eyes at me. “Your mom will expect you to put him in his place. Permanently.” He drew his finger across his throat in a gesture that couldn’t have been more unambiguous. “Make a clear statement to the rest of the gang.”
My stomach twisted with a jab of queasiness. More blood on my hands to appease Mom? Not that I thought Maverick deserved to keep living his life of violence and assholery so very much, but every death I dealt out myself felt like another boulder weighing on my conscience.
Wasthat even what Mom would want? She hadn’t given me any orders to that effect when we’d talked directly earlier this evening, only that she expected me to keep the Hellborn in line. If she had a specific opinion about how I did that, normally she’d have said it outright.
I kept my answer noncommittal. “We’ll see how it goes.”
