Page 40 of SEAL's Patience
“Yeah, he was an abusive motherfucker. A drunk, too. He beat my mom. Not just occasionally. No. All. The. Time. I’d come home from school and find her with black eyes, bruises on her arms, legs, and that’s just what I could see. When I got older and tried to stop him, he started on me, too.”
“Fuck, Quinn. Didn’t anyone hear what was going on? Call the police?”
Quinn closed his eyes. All the memories he’d suppressed for years came tumbling back. How he’d prayed for someone to save them, but it never happened. “No one helped. My father was a big guy, like me, and everyone was afraid of his temper. No one would dare cross him.”
His throat was dry and scratchy. Just reliving that time, the anger, the horror, and the devastation at his mother’s tears and not being able to do anything to help. Reaching for his beer, he took another swig, his gaze turning to the doorway. When he saw Patience standing there with their nachos, it was like a knife to his heart. Had she heard his story? Did she know everything? Or just some of it. If he was lucky, she didn’t hear a thing, but that wasn’t how his life usually went. Still, it’s not like he was yelling,it was hard enough just speaking the words. Try as he might, he couldn’t get a read on her expression.
“Okay. Hot out of the broiler. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be by to check on you soon. It’s picking up in there,” she said, using her shoulder to imply the main room. “And we’re short staffed, but I won’t forget you.” She was out the door before either of them answered.
“For what it’s worth, I doubt she heard anything you said, but I understand why you’re worried. You were talking low enough that I barely heard you. No way would she have heard anything from the doorway.”
Quinn tipped his chin. He hoped Doc was right. But maybe it would be better if she had. She’d finally realize he wasn’t what she needed in her life and stay far away from him. He was a fucking murderer, dangerous, unpredictable. All the things the shrinks said when he was in high school. If it hadn’t been for Theo’s parents taking him in, he’d have ended up in juvie, and God only knew how his life would have turned out.
“I can’t imagine having to grow up like that. Seeing your mother basically tortured. No wonder you lost it in Marikistan. It had to hit all your triggers.”
Nodding, Quinn took another swig of his beer. “I’ve prided myself on keeping my emotions in check, buried. Always careful. Plus, I do my best not to put myself in situations that could be a trigger. The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone.”
Doc squinted at him. “Really? Have you looked at your career choice? You’re constantly in situations like that.”
“True, but I’ve trained long and hard to make sure I stay in control. But seeing that fucking dickwad beat on her, everything came flooding back. It was my father beating on my mother all over again. I was seventeen, walking in the house after class and seeing her bloody on the floor, barely breathing. I couldn’t stop myself. Just like I couldn’t back then.”
Doc nodded. “I get it. Now you’re channeling all that anger into saving the world, since you couldn’t save your mom. Right?”
Quinn shouldn’t have expected Doc would figure it out without him saying it.
“No, I couldn’t. By the time the paramedics got there, she was gone. He was dead, too. It looked like a blood bath even before I beat the shit out of my sperm donor. I expected to spend the rest of my life in jail, but Theo’s parents vouched for me, took me in. Basically, they saved me from myself. If not for them, who knows where I’d be now.”
Quinn felt as if someone had ripped out his insides and put them on display. Empty. Exhausted. Maybe he just needed sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept for more than a couple of hours. Hopefully, he’d be able to remedy that later.
Doc reached over and squeezed Quinn’s shoulder. That support loosened some of the tightness in his chest. Maybe sharing his story wasn’t a disaster after all.
Quinn leaned back in the chair. When had he sat down? Running his hand over his face, he sighed.
“It’ll be okay. But I think you need to tell the team. They’re all worried about you after Marikistan. They’ll have your back no matter what, but it would help for them to know,” Doc said.
“I know. I’ve been trying to work myself up to it. Now that I’ve told you, it’ll probably be easier. Still, I worry they won’t respect me or my leadership after they know.”
“Bullshit. You’ve proven yourself too many times over the years for any of us to see you any other way. Besides, you could have just torn that asshole Robbie apart. You didn’t. You reacted just like any of us would have. Stop beating yourself up.”
Quinn thought about what Doc was saying. It was true. He could have easily taken the fucker out and he hadn’t even punched him. Progress, but not cured. His inner monster wasquiet, but not tamed. Not enough for a relationship. He couldn’t take the chance he’d turn out like his piece of shit father.
CHAPTER 22
PATIENCE
Patience couldn’t get away from Quinn and Doc fast enough. She’d practically tossed the platter of food at them and took off. It probably looked suspicious. The air in the room had been so heavy, and seeing the concern on Doc’s face twisted her stomach into knots. Something was going on with Quinn.
She’d heard the muffled voices as she walked up to the doorway, but she didn’t even try to listen. If Quinn had wanted her to know, he’d tell her. Not that she’d expect him to. The man was more locked down than a bank vault. At least he’d talked to Doc, though. He needed to unload some of that burden, whatever it was.
As she made her way back into the kitchen to pick up more orders, she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been talking about her. From their serious expressions, she sure hoped not. She’d kind of been praying that Doc would encourage him to be open to a relationship, even if it could only be until she left for Sudan.
“Everything okay?” Tony asked as he plated her last order.
“Yup. Why?”
“You look like you just lost your best friend. Do you need a break?”
“I’m good. Just thinking instead of working. Sorry about that.”
