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I glanced over my shoulder.

Quinn stood in his usual work gear plus heavier outerwear to protect against the freezing breeze coming off the sea. It was an early, bitter wind and a person might mistake it for winter instead of autumn here on the island.

I’d come to a wee cove of beach that most tourists didn’t know about. We spent the summers here as kids, wading in the water and eating sandwiches on the sand. I remembered belatedly that it was a special place for Taran and Quinn, and Quinn used to always bring the kids here when they were younger.

How he’d known where to find me, I did not know.

“Cammie thinks you’re hiding from her,” Quinn said as he approached.

Instead of answering, because I didn’t know how, I lowered myself to the sand, my arms draped over my bent knees. I stared out at the dark gray water as my friend took a seat beside me.

“She’s worried about you. Cammie.” Quinn nudged me. “Why not talk to her about whatever is bothering you?”

Frustration gritted my teeth. “Because … because I don’t want her to think I’m … I don’t know … fuck. I don’t want my bullshit to fuck her up.” Not after the incident in my truck. Not after watching the woman I loved have a bloody panic attack because I’d threatened to break up with her.

“Then talk to me.” Quinn shrugged. “We’ve been pals since we were kids. I know the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I’m still here. We went through Liam’s death and the aftermath together. There’s nothing you could tell me, mate, that would make me think less of you.”

I released a shaky breath because I needed these thoughts and feelings out. They were eating me alive. I needed them fucking out. They were a poison. So, I talked. I told Quinn everything I’d relayed to Cameron about my mum and dad. About my aunt and uncle and the abuse. How all of it made me ashamed. Filled with self-loathing and a belief that I didn’t deserve good things. Didn’t deserve Cameron. Then I explained about going to see Dr. Gardener and how that helped. How it helped bring me and Cameron back together.

But by the time I got to the letters and Genny, I had to force the words out.

By the end, when I revealed my worst fears about being my father’s son, I was sobbing like a wee boy, and I was too far gone to even be embarrassed about it.

I felt a strong hand grip my nape. Quinn squeezed it and kept his hand there, letting me cry every shitty feeling out.

Eventually, I got a handle on it. I swiped a hand under my wet nose. “I’m all right. Sorry.”

Quinn gave my nape another squeeze, then let go, patting my back before he rested his arms over his knees. For a moment we remained in silence, and I felt a bit mortified about my breakdown. I was thirty-nine years old and crying like a wee boy, for fuck’s sake. “Sorry,” I repeated, wiping hard at my face.

“Don’t apologize.” My friend shook his head. “You’re allowed to cry, Forde. We all are, despite what the men who came before us taught us.”

I knew he was right but still … “Didn’t mean to break down on you like that.”

“Forde …”

At his tone, I turned to meet Quinn’s gaze.

“If we believed we were incapable of being different people than our parents, so many of us would be seriously fucked. I think … I think our best trait as humans is our desire to be better versions of the people who came before us. To be the best version of ourselves. But it can also twist your perspective. Believe me, I know. And I always knew there was something you weren’t telling me about your parents, but now that I know what you’ve been through, it makes me think you’ve been trying to prove to yourself that you’re worth more than they said you were. Your whole life. Volunteering. Running yourself ragged helping people. You’ve tried to be a better man than Barry. And I see it now. I see that even with all the good you’ve done, you never actually believed you’re a good man. Until this year.” He nudged me again, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “I was relieved to see my best mate finally acting like he deserved the best in life and going after the woman he loves. Even if that woman happens to be my wee sister.”

I snorted at his dry tone as something lightened. Like a literal weight lifting off me.

“I’ve always known how Cammie feels about you,” Quinn continued quietly. “Always worried about it. About you both. But I’ve never seen my sister as happy as she’s been these last few weeks. I was terrified the Greig Wallace stuff would really screw her up. But she’s so strong. So unbelievably strong minded, and I don’t think she realizes what a miracle it is that she’s come out of it in the way she has. I think a huge part of it, though, is you. You’ve made it easier for her to move on from the horror. You’ve given her a future to look forward to. So, if you won’t fight your way out of this dark place for yourself, do it for her. Because it will shatter Cammie if you disappear because of this.”

“I know.” I nodded, emotion thickening my throat again.

“Here’s a question, and don’t swing for me. I’m trying to make a point.”

I tensed. “All right …”

“Would you raise your hands to a woman?”

“What the fuck?” I half turned toward him in indignation. “What the fuck do you think?”

“I know you wouldn’t, but I’m asking you if you do or if you have any doubts.”

“Of course not. I’d never raise a hand to a woman.”

“Would you ever do to a child what your dad did to that wee girl?”