A Broken Soul(33)
"Well, I should probably let you get some sleep. I know Soph's probably worn you out."
I was hit with a wave of regret, not wanting the conversation to end, and the intensity of it was startling. "Yeah. Good night."
"Night, Lilly."
"Be safe."
He hung up without another word, and my curiosity finally got the best of me. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, I stepped quietly into Quinn's room.
The masculinity of the room didn't surprise me. Quinn was the very definition of masculine so the dark espresso finish of the wooden headboard and matching bedside tables and dresser fit. It was the cleanliness that was shocking. The bed was made perfectly. The navy and gray chevron-patterned comforter was tucked in around the sides and covered the pillows with almost military precision. I bet I could bounce a quarter off it if I weren't concerned with leaving wrinkles.
The only thing on the dark hardwood floors was a pale gray throw rug, no clothing strewn about, no miscellaneous socks or shoes, nothing. With the exception of some pocket change and a couple folded receipts on the dresser, there wasn't even any clutter. I was sure that if I scoped out his closet, it would have been organized to precision. Not that I was going to do that. I was already invading his privacy enough as it was, I refused to cross the line further by going through his closet or rummaging through his medicine cabinet.
The only personal effect in the entire room was one single picture frame that sat on the far nightstand. My feet carried me around the foot of the bed, and when I saw the picture of the blonde woman smiling over her shoulder at a laughing Quinn, my heart stopped. Addison. Quinn's wife. She was remarkably beautiful, and the smile stretching across her face made it clear she loved her life. But it was Quinn's expression that made my chest ache. I picked up the frame and brought it closer to my face. I don't think I'd ever seen him looking so happy and carefree. It was like looking at a totally different person. The Quinn I knew now was just a shadow of the Quinn captured in the snapshot I was holding in my hands. And that realization gutted me.
Setting the picture back where I found it, I couldn't help but think how sad it was that he'd lost so much at such a young age, so much that it changed him into someone else. I hated that for him. I wanted to fix it.
But before I could let my worry over his wellbeing take over, the sound of Sophia's screams from down the hall had me running out of the room as fast as I possibly could.
"Daddy!" Sophia screamed at the same time I grabbed hold of the doorframe, sliding around on my sock-clad feet and almost falling before I finally made it into her room.
Her face was pale, her blue eyes wide and shining like crazy as she sat in her bed, panting heavily.
"Hey, hey," I cooed, rushing to her and dropping to my knees at the side of her bed. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm here. I've got you."
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might come through my breastbone as she grabbed the sleeves of my sweater and pulled until I was sitting on the mattress next to her.
"I had a bad dream." Her voice shook as she laid her head on my lap. My fingers found her hair and I slowly started sliding them down in the hopes of soothing her.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, as I lifted my legs and rested back against the headboard, stretching out along the length of her little girl bed. She shook her head against my legs and burrowed closer.
"No. It scared me. I don't wanna be scared again."
A memory from my childhood pushed its way to the forefront of my mind; one of those memories my father wanted me to hold on to. "You know, when I was a little girl, my dad used to lay with me and sing me a song any time I had a bad dream. He said it was a special song that would keep all the scary thoughts away. Would you like me to sing it to you?"
"Uh huh."
I settled further into the bed and started to sing Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide," just like my father did countless times. I didn't hold a candle to Stevie Nicks' sultry voice, but that didn't stop me from giving it my all. I remembered how that song would chase away the monsters every time Dad sang it to me, and I wanted to give Sophia that very same comfort.
By the time I finished singing, she was asleep, breathing deep and steady as I ran my fingers through her soft hair. I continued to hum the tune, taking the very same comfort I'd just offered her from the memory of my father. I must have eventually dozed, because the next thing I knew, I was startled awake by Quinn's low, gravelly voice.