Once the car had stopped, they got out and walked. Once they couldn’t walk anymore – feet blistered and stomach on less than empty – they found a house.
“Must be a holiday home,” Dustin said, flicking on lights and looking around. “Hasn’t been touched in months.”
Shanna said nothing, even when he put a fresh glass of water out in front of her. It wasn’t until she’d finished sipping from the glass that she gained the courage to speak up.
“What if Q can’t find us? What if they do?”
Continue reading SOL: Generation Three – Chapter Fourteen
Kian had told her to take it an hour at a time, and Isabelle had, and she was struck by how that had taken her up to this moment. Somehow the hours had piled up into days, into weeks, months, years. And here she was, resting her head on Kian’s shoulder, curled around him and breathing him in, surrounded by family (yes, she thought, that still hurt).
Three years on. How was it three years? She’d gone back to school, got her grades even though she had no direction in life, fell into an easy routine with Kian and then gave up the pretence of sleeping in her own room. Three years! She was nineteen, she had an admin job for the town hall, and she was watching her silly, ridiculous brother toast to Cara’s pregnancy.
Continue reading SOL: Generation Three – Chapter Thirteen
(plz forgive me for being so behind on wp and posting anyway, I have a holiday coming up and plan to read your chapters in the sun!)
“I’m proud of you,” Mia said, curling fingers around Quinn’s wrist. He gave her a shaken smile, but couldn’t help fidgeting in his seat.
“Isn’t this a silly thing to be proud of?” His voice was quiet, but even through the din Mia managed to pick up what was said. Her disapproving look told him that much.
Continue reading SOL: Generation Three – Chapter Twelve
[tw for a very brief mention of rape]
“Your – your room!”
Cara’s shocked voice made Ayr spin around, dropping the bottle of Dettol which spun to the floor. He flung the rag onto the dresser and wiped his hands on his jeans. His side of the bedroom was, for the first time in years, spotless, and Ayr had been scrubbing the skirting boards for long enough that the cloying smell of pine was stuck in his nose.
“I can’t sit still,” he admitted. Cleaning gave him some sense of control, because seeing the finished product was an immediate hit of satisfaction. He could easily see how he’d made a difference.
Any therapist would have a field day with that, Ayr thought.
Continue reading SOL: Generation Three – Chapter Eleven
“Where exactly am I going to live?” Shanna asked, watching the scenery whizz by. She stretched out cramped legs and eyed the back of Q’s head. In the passenger seat a blonde woman sat, and she’d tried to make light conversation with Shanna until the teenager’s glares had got through.
“Two options,” Q said, taking a country road too fast. Daniela shot him a look which he received with an angelic grin. “You can live with us and a screaming toddler.”
“Ew,” Shanna said, pointedly. Q nodded like he agreed, and was rewarded with another acidic look.
“Or you can stay here.”
Continue reading SOL: Generation Three – Chapter Ten
Quinn was awake when the door swung open. He had questions sitting on his tongue; he’d spent half the night experimenting, shocked to discover that with just a little more pressure than usual he could bend utensils in half. At first he’d put it down to shoddy workmanship, but after succeeding in snapping the window’s golden handle off he had reluctantly come to accept that something was different.
Q swept into the room. His usual easy air was sullied by the tired sagging of his face. “I think I’ve got it,” he announced to the room. Kian peered up at him, rubbing sleepy eyes.
The hotel room’s door shook with the force of a knock. Quinn sat up straighter at Kian’s alarm, but Q only grinned – albeit wearily.
“Right on time.”
Continue reading SOL: Generation Three – Chapter Nine
Fucking finally, am I right? Sorry for the wait ❤
Quinn sat with a gaping mouth as his uncle’s earnest eyes stared up at him. Unconsciously he surveyed Q’s appearance; the man didn’t look a day over twenty five at a push. And yet Quinn knew that his namesake had been a handful of years older than his father.
Before he could formulate a question, the door opened. Quinn smelled trace scents of rosemary and the remnants of his sister’s perfume before he even saw the teenager.
“Kian,” Q said by way of explanation, and Quinn blinked.
“Izzy’s Kian?” he mumbled. The boy’s cheeks reddened and he looked at his feet.
“That’s him,” Q answered cheerfully. “Come on in. We have some ‘splaining to do.”
Continue reading SOL: Generation Three – Chapter Eight