About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(86)

He left with the promise to return in a couple of hours, and from the second he walked out the door, I waited with bated breath.




It was only four in the afternoon, but after my shower, I dressed straight into my pajamas. I told myself I wasn’t counting the two hours and thirty-five minutes Quinn had been gone. With every minute that passed, a sense of calm washed over me.

Harry had to understand. I knew once Quinn explained he’d accept that we loved each other and support us. This was Harry we were talking about. Harry was smart and rational, and he was my biggest fan. He would want me to be happy.

I’d just plaited my freshly washed hair when I heard shouting coming from the hall. I couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, but two men were yelling over the top of each other, and both of them sounded irate. My heart skipped a beat as I rushed to unlock my apartment door. I hadn’t realized by doing that I was inviting World War III into my living room.

The door slammed open and I managed to get out of the way just in time to watch my door handle make a hole in my wall.

Harry stomped into the room, looking furious. “Mia, what the f*ck?”

I blinked, eyes wide. My heart beat harder than a staccato drumbeat. I took a step back.

Quinn came in a second after, glowering at my brother, a trickle of blood running down his nose and over his top lip. I took a step toward him, hand extended, and near shouted, “You’re bleeding.”

A hand clamped my wrist and pulled me back. I stumbled, but righted myself before I fell. Harry didn’t notice and spat, “Don’t you f*cking touch her,” at the very same time Quinn’s eyes flashed and he hissed, “Get your f*cking hands off her.”

I turned in time to see Harry threaten Quinn through narrowed brows, “I’m going to kick your ass.”

Quinn smiled viciously in response, licking at the blood on his lip. “You already tried and did a shitty job of it, buddy.” The use of the endearment ‘buddy’ came out as if he were anything but.

My voice shook. “What’s going on with you two?” I shook Harry’s hand off and stepped away from both of them, doing my best to steel my shaking voice. “What the hell?” But they ignored me.

“You’re not dating my sister,” Harry grated.

I jerked at his tone. It was one I’d never heard before.

Quinn growled, “Never asked your permission.”

Harry barked a laugh. “What a f*cking joke you are.”

“You’d know. You always did have a way of saving me from myself,” Quinn stated honestly.

“Does anyone care about what I think?” I manage to say. But it was as futile as talking to a blender and a brick wall.

Harry’s face turned bright red. “You’re not good enough for her. You never were.”

Quinn’s face turned pained. He yelled back, “You think I don’t know that? Fuck!” He panted a distressed, “I love her.”

Harry threw back his head and laughed. And the sound of it shriveled my heart. It was cruel and punishing, and I’d never heard my brother be any of those things before. Quinn closed his eyes, wounded.

Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back.

Harry’s hands balled into fists that shook by his sides. He whispered a fierce, “Anyone. You could’ve had anyone…”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open and he roared, “I don’t want anyone!” His eyes came to mine. He uttered a soft, “I want her.” I felt his words touch my very soul. “I love her.”

A silence fell over us. A silence so thick I could’ve carved it.

Then I turned and spoke directly to my brother, who still burned holes into Quinn’s head. “I love him, Har.” My brother turned to face me. He’d lost some of his steam, but not much. I made my way to Quinn’s side in silent union. “I’m in love with him.”

Harry blinked a moment before his eyes closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, Mia…”

My argument rushed out of me before I could stop it. “You told me I’ve never given you a reason to doubt my judgment. You told me I’ve never made a bad decision before. I’m not starting now.” I shrugged lightly before taking Quinn’s hand and linking our fingers. “I’m so sorry, Har. This is my fault. Quinn didn’t do anything wrong. I lied to him. This happened because of me, so if you want to blame someone, blame the person responsible.” I looked up at the man I’d dreamed about for years to find him looking down at me, watching me with a soft expression that read I love you. I explained, “What’s done is done. I love him. He loves me. And we’re going to be together, whether you like it or not.” My expression was pleading. I spoke quietly, emotion clogging my throat, “So I would really like you to like it, because I don’t think I could handle you not speaking to me right now, Har.”

My brother stared at me, and his suddenly strained appearance told me I was hurting him in a big way. So it broke my heart when he turned on his heel and walked out of my apartment, but not before he muttered, “I can’t believe this shit.”

I chanced a look over at Quinn, and all I saw was raw, aching pain.

We stood there, holding hands, clutching to each other like a lifeline. Approximately two minutes after my brother walked out on me, I burst into tears, crying just as hard as I did the day Mark Wayne cut off my braid in seventh grade.