QUINN

I instinctively stepped back, halting his approach. Jack's hand, which had been stretched out toward me, hovered for a second before he slowly retracted it.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his posture. “I meant... what happened? Old age?”

I shot him a stinging glare. “It's nothing.”

“It doesn't look like nothing.”

“I'm fine.”

“You—” I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “What? Why are you suddenly acting like you care?”

“In your dreams. I just don't want you falling, breaking your hips, and then blaming me for it.”

“My hips are fine, thank you.” I turned to check on Anna, but the swift movement sent a blinding...