The Note (Manhattan Nights #5) - Natalie Wrye Page 0,78
and Jase had brown eyes and sandy-colored hair, my locks were dark and thick, my irises dark blue.
The difference between us was palpable—if anyone cared to look, but it was everything else: the way we stood, the furrow in our brows when we were angry, that same never-back-down Quinn energy that made us brothers more than anything else, of the same blood above all.
After Grandfather Quinn’s confession about my mother’s affair and my father, I never thought I’d see myself in my siblings again. But as Jase confronts me, angry and outraged, I realize that my brothers and I are exactly alike…
Hardheaded.
I’d projected perfection because all my life I felt I didn’t belong and it isn’t until now, standing here hours before Jase’s wedding, that I realize I’ve been staring into a mirror all along.
My shoulders slump, one hand going to my hip. “Is that your solution?” I wave towards Jase’s balled-up fist. “You’re going to fight me to get me to talk?’
My brother nods. “If that’s what it takes.”
“You’ve never won a fight between us and you never will.”
“At least I can say I’ve tried. Mindy knows a lot of tricks to get spots out of clothing; I’ll have to ask about blood. But we’re not going to do this anymore… Leave this tension.” He inhales loudly, letting go of the same breath. “We’ve been leaving it for too long, and I’m done, Noah. I’m done.” His eyes gloss over, a renewed sheen shining in their chocolate-covered depths. His jaw ticks. “I want my fucking brother back. And I don’t care how.”
I want to tell him that he’s always had him. But that would be a lie.
What my brother had from me for the last seven years was nothing but a shell, a husk of a man—a Stepford person, whose entire focus lie on some misguided idea of excellence.
My past was catching up with me, but I was no longer trying to hide it. I was letting it strengthen me, empower me—make me more of the man I was trying to be.
I take a step closer to Jase, sliding one hand into the pocket of my slacks. I sigh. “So, do what you have to do.”
“I will.”
Another step. “Put your hands on me, if you have to.”
“You think I won’t?”
Another step. This one draws me to toe-to-toe with Jase and I face him, fists and all. Our jaws are unmoving, nerves made of steel. The same Quinn DNA keeps either of us from looking away and at the same time, at the exact same moment, both of us go for it, reaching out for one another…gripping each other close in a hug.
It’s a touch I didn’t know I needed. Not until now.
Jase has heard everything I told Ainsley. He knows everything.
And the secrets disappear between us as if disintegrated into thin air.
I wrap my eldest brother close, holding tight.
Cyn was right…
I was jealous of him.
Jealous that he found the love I’d secretly craved for. Jealous that he’d found the woman to complement him, complete him.
But things were different now. Because I’d found that woman for me.
There’s so much left to say to Jase, but I back out of our hard embrace, a knot twisting in my stomach as I realize that I still haven’t found Sophia.
Where is she?
Jase steps back, seeing the fear in my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
“What’s wrong?” I hear Lachlan comment from the corner of the room, now watching us. “What’s wrong is that I wasn’t a part of this hug. Why didn’t you tossers call me?”
We laugh, reaching out for baby bro, but like the youngest, he backs up, stepping away just out of reach. “Whoa, wait. I didn’t come here for affection just yet. I’m getting plenty of that from the bridesmaids downstairs.” He grins. “But I did come because it looks like we’ve got an escapee.” He looks at me. “Hazel eyes. Dark and ombre hair… Someone saw a woman who looks like that getting into a cab and leaving.”
The information makes my heart thump.
Because it’s not just any woman getting into a cab.
It’s the woman who should still be in this bed, in this room.
My woman.
And I was going to get her back, no matter what it took.
Chapter 26
SOPHIA
The rain is torrential by the time my cab makes it back to New York. Traffic is overwhelming, the streets swarmed for an early Sunday afternoon, and soon anticipation gets the best of me, not to mention the meter.