Yours at Midnight by Robin Bielman Read Free Book Online

shoulder, sending tingles everywhere. “I’ve cut myself off from people for the past four years. Before that, too, I know. But more so after Oliver died. I came home to fix that, to right some wrongs. Blame is exhausting and debilitating and slowly killing me.”
    This Quinn—this vulnerable, honest, intense Quinn—reached a place inside her only he could. She’d had glimpses of this in the past, but always brushed it aside to concentrate on Oliver instead of his broody brother.
    She pressed her hands into the pillow. She wanted to offer him comfort, but if she touched him, she’d never stop, and she needed to hear what he had to say. “What do you blame yourself for?”
    …
    Quinn let out a deep breath. “Where do…” He raked his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “Where do I start?”
    “How about with four years ago?” she asked.
    Quinn figured that was as good a place as any. And the sooner he got it out, the better. He didn’t do apologies well. Didn’t talk about his feelings. When he had shit bothering him, he worked out at the gym, ran eight miles.
    But his whole purpose for coming back to Oak Hills was to apologize—and when he set his mind to something, he damn well did it to the best of his ability.
    She reached over and took his hand from her shoulder to cup between hers. Her hands were soft. Delicate. Comforting. A knot lodged in his throat. He’d wanted her support for as long as he could remember.
    “We’d both been drinking that night,” he said, thinking back to that New Year’s Eve night. “Not a lot, but enough. I told Oliver I’d drive. In the back of my mind I thought if we got pulled over, it would be better if I was the one who got in trouble. His perfect record would stay perfect.”
    Lyric rubbed her thumb across his fingers.
    “He said no. That he was perfectly capable of driving the five miles home. He told me I didn’t have to get in the car with him. That I could hitch a ride with someone else. I got in the passenger seat and told him he was a dick. Those were the last words I said to him.”
    Lyric looked up. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”
    “I can. I was the designated driver that night. I was the one who agreed to stay sober so that I could drive home. Then at the party, Oliver told me if I took the job in New York, I was abandoning the family, and it pissed me off. So I had a few beers. I should have been the one in the driver’s seat that night. It was supposed to be me.”
    He flinched. When he let himself remember, he could still feel the force of impact vibrating through his body. The SUV had run a red light and slammed into Oliver’s side of the car—but it had shaken the foundations of Quinn’s world.
    “Oh, Quinn, it was an accident. A horrible, awful accident that wasn’t your fault.”
    “There are nights I lie awake in a panic, sweat all over my back, thinking that if we’d stayed at the party five minutes longer, Oliver would still be alive. He’d be married. Maybe have a kid.”
    His eyes wandered to the pictures of Max. Quinn hadn’t had any experience with kids until his crash course this evening, and something had pulled at his heart when they’d wanted his attention…and he’d wanted to give it to them.
    “ What ?” Lyric’s eyes widened.
    He met her surprised gaze. “Oliver was going to propose to Julia. He had the ring, and he’d planned some elaborate proposal for her birthday.”
    “I didn’t know that,” she whispered.
    Hurt clouded her eyes. She blinked a few extra times. Quinn looked away. He really was a son of a bitch. He didn’t have to tell her that. But that little part of him? The part that still felt second best to his brother and wanted to get his digs in to hurt Lyric because she’d preferred his brother over him? He came roaring back to the surface.
    “He didn’t tell anyone but me.”
    “Did you tell Julia?”
    “I told her at the funeral. I thought she should know my brother wanted