As You Turn Away (The Walker Boys) (7 page)

“Uncle Jonah!” The little form flew at him, and then arms were wrapped around his legs. Jonah gazed down at James, who was now cleaned up and in different clothes, and currently beaming up at him. He squatted so he was on his nephew’s level.

“Hey superhero,” Jonah greeted him. He was rewarded with a giggle, which was the most precious sound he’d heard in a very long time. His own family might be leery of him, but this child wasn’t. James trusted him already, and through his anger, Jonah recognized Hannah and Reece had probably known this would happen when James met him.

“Uncle Jonah, can we play soon?” James widened his eyes, and Jonah didn’t know what to say. Would he be allowed to spend more time around this beautiful little boy? And if he wasn’t…could his heart stand it?

“Jonah will be around lots more now,” Hannah announced, pinning him with a gaze that did not share any of her son’s innocence. “Won’t you?”

Being an uncle was a responsibility he hadn’t come here prepared for, but it was one he was ready to accept. It meant so much more than play dates. It meant being a friend to James as he grew up. It meant teaching him things like how to butter up Ma to get fresh-baked cookies, or how to break in a baseball glove, or how to treat females.

Jonah nodded at Hannah. “I will be,” he said, looking at James. “I will be here as often as you want to see me.” He hugged James gently.

“Come on, Jamie.” Hannah slung her purse over her shoulder. “It’s time to go.”

Jamie was starting to pout, but he let go of Jonah as Reece walked into the room and picked him up, cradling him against his chest. Jonah moved away to give them privacy as they exchanged promises of “story time again next week,” and “pizza night with Uncle Ethan and Uncle Jonah.” James waved at him as Reece set him on his feet; his other hand was curled around Hannah’s as she steered him toward the door. Jonah raised a hand, a small part of him leaving with the little boy who had stolen his heart in a matter of minutes.

Jonah ambled across the room to the couch, and sat. He picked up the newspaper lying on the table even though it was a day old. He turned away as Reece leaned toward Hannah, kissing her cheek. They spoke in hushed tones for several minutes before Hannah and Jamie left.

“So, you and Hannah are what? Divorced?”

“Yep.” Reece slumped into a chair across from Jonah.

“Then what…?” Jonah wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence, or if it was any of his business at this point. “Are you back together?”

“It ain’t like that. She’s sick, Jonah—and other than that, it’s complicated, and hers to tell.” When Reece didn’t volunteer anything else, Jonah knew the door he’d gotten to peek into earlier was closing again, for now, and would stay that way until their anger and hurt dissolved.

Glancing at the front page, Jonah skimmed past an article on a new budget for the school system, and paused to scan the next one on the front page. The picture that accompanied it showed a terrible car accident, and he winced in sympathy as he read the article, hoping no one was hurt seriously. A familiar name almost leapt off the page at him, and everything around him faded.

Jonah’s heart stuttered on the word “killed,” and he ripped open the newspaper to the continuing article.

Moira Reynolds was pronounced deceased shortly after arrival, upon suffering various internal injuries and severe bleeding. Her husband, community pillar Clay Reynolds remains stable, but in a coma. The couple’s daughter, Quinnlan Reynolds, was injured but is in stable condition and conscious at the time of this article. Funeral services for Mrs. Reynolds will be held Sunday.

“She’s hurt.” The crinkling sound told him he was crushing the newspaper in his hands; Jonah laid it aside and stood. He advanced slowly on Reece, who took a step back. “Her mother died, and her father is injured…and
she’s hurt
, and no one told me.”

Quinn
. Four years since he last touched her, and sometimes all those years felt like a day. Other times they pressed into him with such weight that he woke, reaching for her, only to find the other side of the bed cold.

Reece’s gaze dropped to the newspaper, and Jonah’s clenched hands.  “We didn’t know if you wanted to know, Ma said Quinn couldn’t get away from her fast enough at the funeral.“

“Shut the fuck up.” Jonah bared his teeth at Reece, and in that moment, it didn’t matter if he’d told her to go, and she had. Or if they’d broken one another. The years and words between them ceased to exist. The parts of him she broke into shards when she went were inconsequential. His girl was hurt, and he needed to be there.

“Of course I wanted to know. I
loved
her!” To him, each breath sounded sharp enough to cut anyone who got too close. “I’m leaving, and when I’m ready, we’ll talk.”

“Jonah, wait!“ Reece grabbed at Jonah’s arm as he brushed past him, but Jonah didn’t even stop. He knew leaving like this erased that step they’d taken on the porch, but damned if he wanted to be anywhere other than at her side.

He slammed the door behind him and tore out of the parking lot as soon as he was able to get his seatbelt on, and the car started. The miles in between Reece’s apartment, and Quinn’s home stretched on, and he drove as quickly as he could while still obeying traffic laws. Jonah cursed every red light, and every slow driver he wound up behind, wishing he could physically push them out of the way. The sky was overcast and strong wind ruffled through the trees, promising a storm.

He would see her in moments.

He’d been tempted to look for her, but he’d never given into the urge. Never searched for her online, or gone looking for newspaper clippings about ballet companies to find hers. Never asked any mutual friends about her. He’d told himself it was for the best, but the truth hiding beneath those empty words was that he was afraid. Afraid he’d find her living a perfect life or living a miserable life…and be unable to stop himself from approaching her either way.

His hands were trembling like stubborn leaves clinging to their branches in autumn, refusing to let go completely. Jonah’s mouth was dry as he drove along the road to her house, and ended up in her driveway. He wasn’t ready for this. Not now, and he likely never would be. But he wouldn’t ever be the man he wanted to be if he couldn’t at least check on her, and make sure she was okay. Things between them had imploded, but he had to believe that she wouldn’t hate him for this.

Jonah walked to the front door and rang the doorbell before he could change his mind.

Quinn put her hands on her hips, and gave Jonah the look that always reminded him she wasn’t nearly as docile as she looked. He adored her spirit, her wit, and her determination. He loved how she was always willing to encourage him, or to call bullshit when he deserved it. But she wasn’t going to get her way this time.

“I promise you, I’m not lyin’, Quinn. I mean I’ll do it if you wanna see me fall flat on my face…”

Laughing, Quinn tugged Jonah’s hand, and he followed her onto the floor. Music flowed around them, and Jonah tried to move like her, but within seconds he was hopelessly lost. He stood back, arms crossed, and watched her—the way her graceful steps made her almost float across the floor, the smile on her lips as she danced. He loved that ballet made her happy, because his girl should always smile.

“You aren’t even trying!” Quinn pouted at Jonah.

He crossed the room to her, and took her in his arms. “Maybe I can’t dance all fancy like you can,” he teased, “but I
do
have moves.”

“Well, show me these
moves
.” Quinn giggled.

Jonah took her right hand in his left, and guided them into the starting positions for a waltz. Quinn frowned at him, but let him move her. Jonah hummed under his breath, since her ballet music wasn’t exactly right for what he had in mind.

“Dance with me.” He cupped her waist, which wasn’t exactly where his hand belonged, but they were alone, and he’d do what he pleased. Between school, and working the farm, not to mention Quinn’s family, they barely got any time together. But what time they did spend together meant more to Jonah than he knew how to say.

“Always.” Quinn stumbled on the next step, but recovered. She stared at her feet, watching as he led.

“1-2-3, 1-2-3,” he counted. He could feel the smile tickling his lips as they found a rhythm. Quinn was adorable when she concentrated, and even more so when she wanted to get something right.

“Well, you suck at ballet but you’re pretty good at waltzing. Someday you’ll have to tell me how you learned.” Quinn squeezed his hand. “And you’re not half bad at being a boyfriend.”

Jonah couldn’t hold back the grin any longer. “Boyfriend, huh? Is that what I am? That would make you my girlfriend.”

“I mean…if you want to be.”

She was flustered, and completely irresistible. Jonah pulled Quinn into his arms, and kissed her lips. She melted against him, and he smiled against her mouth. The response was as automatic as the sun washing away the moonlight—it was something he simply knew would happen. When he kissed her, happiness overtook him.

“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead, lips lingering. “I want to be.”

In the absence of sound, the silence battered at Quinn. Darren wasn’t talking, which spurred Quinn’s thoughts again. She didn’t know how to cope with the enormous responsibility of feeling anything but numb. She had so many things to do—go see her dad, meet with her parents’ lawyer to set a time to go over her mother’s will, and just generally try to get through the day. And, too, Jonah’s face hadn’t left her mind since yesterday; he was just as much of a ghost now as he was in the days following her arrival in New York.

“Dare?” She pressed, needing the distraction.

Her cousin had gone silent, but he stood and pushed his chair back with a sudden clatter that startled Quinn. Darren was striding toward the doorway, hands fisted at his side, and as Quinn looked past him, she realized why. Jonah stood just inside the room, as though her thoughts conjured him.

He looked at Darren, then past him, those green eyes stealing Quinn’s breath. “Your housekeeper let me in, and I…didn’t know if I should—”

“Don’t you
dare
come in here.”

Quinn flinched at Darren’s words. The steel in his normally easy-going tone said he meant the threat. He was a few inches shorter than Jonah, but he seemed to fill the space around him as he charged, only stopping when he was toe-to-toe with Jonah. Jonah held his ground, neither coming forward nor turning to leave. Instead, he leaned around Darren, and stared at her.

“I’m here to
talk
. I just want to talk.” The seconds bled out between them, until he looked away from her. “You can be here the entire time if that’s what she wants, Darren, but it
is
up to her.”

“The
hell
it is.” Darren growled the words and leaned into Jonah, trying to push him back a step.

“Darren.” Jonah didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t have to. “Don’t speak for her. You don’t make Quinn’s decisions.” He put a hand on Darren’s chest and pushed, enough to make Darren stumble. “Let
her
say what she wants.”

Staring at Jonah, Quinn didn’t know what she wanted. When she imagined this moment, it was always so different. She wasn’t reeling from grief. She was expecting his visit. She knew what to say to him. She’d imagined everything from screaming at him to running into his arms. But nothing could accurately have prepared her for seeing him again. She’d forgotten so much—the intensity to his gaze, and the way his eyes drew her back when she tried to look away. What his chin looked like dusted with stubble. How he stood, solid and confident, but not arrogant. The vibe he emanated: that no matter what had gone wrong, he could fix it. He’d fixed her ballet barre when it broke, her DVD player when it held
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
captive, and the door on the pool house after a storm ripped it off the hinges.

And in the end, he hadn’t been able to fix what was broken between them.

“Please, Quinn?” His voice embraced her name the same as if he was used to saying it. How was it so easy for him, when his name on her lips still felt like the inexplicable, lingering pain of a paper cut?

Quinn shivered. She’d forgotten his effect on her. When she loved him, he made everything around him fuzzy, as if he was the only thing she could focus on; apparently, the same was true now. He made her feel hopelessly twisted, and yet everything seemed
so clear. So
simple
. The world narrowed to just the two of them. Her heart insisted, as always, he was all she needed. Her brain wanted to have a come-to-Jesus talk with her heart.

“Quinn?”

She blinked at the sound of Darren’s voice; it was like waking up from a dream. He crossed the room so he was by her side, but continued to glower. They were both waiting for her decision, and she was just as conflicted now as she’d been seconds ago. It was impossible to make this sort of choice. If she let Jonah stay now, she would be lowering her defenses to someone who hurt her. If she asked him to leave, they might never get another chance to make things right between them—whatever “right” was at this point. After all, both of them were to blame for the good and the bad that made up their history.