M
y parents’ house was filled with people, food and noise. I eased my way out of the kitchen and into the hall, looking for a little break from all the family members who wanted to hear the details about my first season as a pro football player, as if they didn’t know. I’d lost count of how many times I’d agreed that this had been a growing year, that we were a young team, that Coach Harris was a wonderful man and that our quarterback Gideon Maynard was due to have an amazing season.
I’d promised tickets to my uncle and two cousins, and I’d told my other teenaged cousin—female variety—that I’d do my damnedest to get her a signed picture of Gideon.
“I’d take Corey Iverson, too,” she’d added, wagging her eyebrows. “He’s hot.”
“He’s also married.” I tapped her on the nose. “And way too old for you.”
She stuck out her tongue at me. “You’re no fun.”
I wanted to laugh.
Yeah, that seems to be the general opinion of the world at large.
The hallway was a little quieter. I could hear my mother’s voice as she greeted newcomers at the door, and in the living room, my brother Simon laughed. I saw him in silhouette, his arm around Justine as they chatted with my grandmother. His fingers rubbed Justine’s hip, just shy of her ass. A pang of bitter jealousy made my stomach clench; I didn’t begrudge Simon an ounce of his happiness with the beautiful Justine, but God, I missed that feeling of being connected to someone. I missed being able to look across the room at a familiar pair of eyes, the luxury of exchanging a glance with someone who knew what I was thinking almost before I did. I wanted that again. For one fleeting moment, I hated Nate for what he’d said to me last summer. I regretted listening to his advice. I wanted Quinn, and dammit, I wanted her now.
As though my longing had summoned her, Quinn’s voice carried to me over the buzz of other conversations. She’d just come through the door, I realized; Carrie was with her, both of them hugging my mother and smiling. Part of me wanted to go to her; she was pulling me closer, like a magnet. But I stayed where I was, waiting, content for the moment to just watch her unawares.
“Can you believe this? One of my boys is actually getting married. I never thought I’d see the day.” My mom shook her head. “Quinn, you look so pretty tonight. Come in and get something to eat and drink.”
“Everything’s lovely, Lisa.” Carrie sounded a little wistful. “You must be so excited. I can’t imagine any of us are old enough to be mothers-in-law.”
I didn’t have to see them all to feel the awkward pause; Carrie
had
been a mother-in-law already, though I doubted she’d ever considered herself that. My mother, never one to allow her friends to flounder, jumped in with both feet.
“Well, of course we aren’t. But I’m embracing it anyway, because it’s going to finally get me a daughter.” She laughed. “And a hell of a lot easier than going through pregnancy and childbirth, right?”
Conversation swelled, drowning out the rest of whatever Carrie and Quinn said in reply. I glanced around, wondering if I could make it to the steps before they started heading to the dining room. I knew it was cowardly and petty, but I wasn’t excited about the idea of seeing Quinn, especially after our last encounter in Virginia. And I kind of doubted she was going to be happy to run into me, either.
Having her in my townhouse that night, just down the hall from my bedroom, had been pure hell. Ever since I’d moved in, I’d pictured Quinn there with me someday. Even as my mother had decorated, I’d asked her to keep everything simple, because somewhere at the back of my mind, I’d believed Quinn would move in and eventually and make it her own.
Our
own.
I had never in my wildest dreams imagined that the very first time she came to my house, I’d be forced to break her heart. Again.
But of course, that was what had happened. I’d been sorely tempted at so many points in that evening . . . tempted to ignore everything that Nate had advised as well as every word my mother had said and just say . . . yes.
Yes.
Yes, Quinn, I want you. I want you to move down here with me, and I want us to get married, and I want us to be together forever this time.
It would have been so easy.
What I hadn’t expected, though, was that the voice in my head stopping me was actually my own. It wasn’t because I’d changed my mind, not at all; it was just that suddenly, I understood how well Nate had known Quinn and how uncannily accurate my mom’s insights had been. In a rare moment of crystal clarity, I’d seen for myself what I’d wanted to deny.
Quinn wasn’t ready yet. She was running away from something, not running toward me. She was hurting about Nate and angry at her mother, and I was the logical answer to both those problems. Unfortunately, that was not a promising way for us to begin our life together, not when I wanted forever with her. So while it had fucking killed me to turn her away and tell her no, I’d done it because I knew that in the long run, I was doing both of us a favor. I was denying us now so that later—and God, I hoped it wasn’t
much
later—we could have a stronger base and a better chance for lasting happiness.
Closing that door and leaving her so that I could walk to my own bedroom had been torture. I hadn’t slept well, and judging by how she looked the next morning, neither had Quinn. I’d gotten up early and made us breakfast, hoping that maybe we could talk things out a little more. I’d thought that maybe in the light of day, when she might have been more rested, Quinn would understand that we couldn’t jump into anything. Not again.
But when the bedroom door had opened and she’d come into the kitchen, she was dressed, with her coat over her arm and her bag on the other shoulder. She’d stared over my shoulder as she’d told me calmly that she’d booked a ticket on the next train north, and it left in an hour. Would I mind driving her to the station, or should she call a taxi? Or, she’d added, even if I could drive her to a diner or a gas station nearby, she could call a cab to get her there.
Of course I’d driven her to the station. It had been the longest fifteen minutes of my life; the car was filled with a heavy silence, and Quinn had stared out the window, her mouth set in a line and her eyes shuttered.
She hadn’t spoken until we’d turned into the parking lot of the train station, at which point she’d motioned to the door of the small building.
“You can just drop me off there, please.”
“You don’t want me to wait with you?” I hadn’t been surprised, but I’d had to ask.
“No, thanks. That doesn’t make any sense. I’ll be fine.”
When the car slowed to a stop, she waited barely a nanosecond before the passenger door was open and she was out. I’d reached for her, wanting to say something more, needing to say something else.
“Quinn—”
“Thanks for the ride, Leo. I’m sure I’ll see you around, maybe, the next time you’re up at home.” She’d slammed the car door and turned around, vanishing into the train station.
And that was the last I’d heard from her, until this moment. So yeah, I was pretty sure seeing each other now could be nothing but awkwardness and pain.
I doubled back to the kitchen, thinking I could sneak out the back door and hide for a little bit. It was damn cold out there—February in South Jersey was no joke—but maybe I could sit in my car. It wasn’t like anyone was going to miss me in this crowd.
The doorknob was in my hand when I felt a punch on my back. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, cubby?” Danny hooked his arm around my neck. “The party isn’t out there.”
“I was just going to get some air. Fucking crowded in here.” I kept my voice low, in case my mom was lurking nearby. The woman moved like a panther. “And don’t call me that. You know I hate it.” The nickname was a new one, relatively-speaking; when the college fans had picked up on my high school team’s name for me—Lion—the whole thing had gone viral on social media. My brothers’ response was to remind me that I wasn’t really a lion; to them, I’d always be the littlest brother. The cub. Danny especially liked to jab at me when he thought I might be getting too big for my britches.
“And that’s why I do it. Anyway, sorry, dude—you’re not going anywhere. Mom needs you to bring those bags of chips to the living room and refill the bowls in there.”
I groaned. “No way. And how do you know she wants me to do it?”
Danny grinned. “Because she told me to do it, and now I’m telling you. Oldest story in the book, bro. Now get moving.”
I could’ve stood there and argued with him longer. Over the years, my brothers and I had turned bickering into an art form. We could keep it up for hours, debating the smallest, most ridiculous and meaningless shit. Drove our parents crazy, but hey, we looked at it as part of our job. Still, tonight was special, and I wasn’t going to mess it up for Simon and Justine. Plus, I was fairly sure I’d end up losing when Mom came in and banged our heads together.
With an exaggerated sigh, I grabbed the chips and shot Danny a death glare. “Payback’s a bitch. Just remember that.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get moving.” He smirked. “I could be mistaken, but I thought I heard Carrie and Quinn come in. So if you were heading outside to avoid her, you might want to go through the dining room.”
I flipped him my middle finger and stalked out of the kitchen, muttering under my breath. There was just something about being back here in this house that made me forget I was twenty-three years old, an adult living on my own. I had a feeling that even when I was eighty, my big brothers were still going to get a lot of joy out of bossing me around.
The living room was crowded, but to my relief, Quinn wasn’t in there. I tore open the first bag of chips and dumped them into the nearly-empty bowl and then repeated the same routine with the next one. Most of my older relatives had ended up in this part of the house, so it was a little quieter in here.
Great-Aunt Libby snagged my arm as I passed. “Leo, be a lamb and get your uncle here a cup of coffee. You know if he goes, he’ll just spill it on the way back.”
Uncle Hal wheezed with laughter. “Not if I tip a bottle over into the cup while I’m at it.” He held up his hand, which shook slightly. “I only get steadier with a little nip in the brew.”
Shaking my head, I patted Aunt Libby on the shoulder. “You stay put, Uncle Hal. I’ll get your coffee.” As I passed him, I bent to whisper into his good ear, “Just don’t let anyone else have a sip, okay? The little extra I add will be our secret.”
He chuckled again, slapping me on the back. “That’s my boy.”
I was still grinning as I rounded the corner and nearly knocked over Quinn.
“Whoa.” She teetered for a minute and instinctively grasped my arm. “Sorry about that. I was taking a short cut to the desserts.”
It had been just about a month since I’d seen her. The first thing I noted was that she wasn’t quite as thin as she’d been then, and I was glad about that. There was a little more color in her face, too, and it looked as though she’d had her hair trimmed. It wasn’t short, but the curls that bounced around her shoulders seemed a little more tamed. More styled, or whatever it was the girls called it. It was different in a good way.
She wore dark blue jeans that clung to her legs and heels that brought her eyes closer to my level. Her loose black top should have seemed formless, but it somehow clung to her boobs, accenting their curves and cleavage, making my mouth water and my hands itch to touch her.
Quinn’s fingers released my arm as she realized it was me she’d run into, and she took one step backward, bumping into the wall behind her. When her eyes met mine, they were guarded and tentative.
“Hey, Leo.” She slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, hunching her shoulders. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”
I shrugged. “A brother’s engagement party is pretty much a command performance. Plus, with it being off-season, I didn’t have any good excuse to say I couldn’t make it.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “Well . . . they seem happy. I’ve only met Justine a few times, but I think she and Simon make a cute couple.”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t capable of saying much more than that.
“And your mom is definitely pleased.” Quinn focused on a spot over my shoulder. “She’s finally getting that daughter she always wanted, huh?” Her lips pressed together, and I was sure we were both thinking the same thing: we’d always thought Quinn would be part of my family someday. The possibility felt very remote right now.
“I guess.” My fingers fisted around the empty chip bags I was still holding. “So how’re you doing, Mia?”
I hadn’t planned to use the pet name; it had just slipped out. The moment it did, Quinn’s eyes went softer for a moment, and she cleared her throat before she answered me.
“I’m okay. I’m . . .” She drew in a deep breath. “Better, maybe. Or on my way there, I think.”
“That’s, uh, good.” I nodded, my head moving up and down like a fucking bobble head.
“Yeah.” Her tongue darted out to run over her lips, and her gaze flickered up to me. “Leo, I’m moving to California.”
If Quinn had just told me that she was flying to the moon to do a show with Aerosmith, I wouldn’t have been more shocked. “Um, what? Why?” Panic gripped me. California was a whole fucking continent away from me. Nate had said I had to give Quinn some space, but give me a fucking break! This was too much.
She leaned against the wall, as though she needed the support in the wake of my outburst. “My boss, Dawn—she has a friend who needed a ghostwriter. Dawn thinks I’ll be perfect for it.”
“A ghostwriter?” Apparently I’d been reduced to simply repeating words now.
“Yeah.” Quinn tilted her head. “You know . . . this guy wants to write a book, but he needs help. He has the story, but he needs someone to make it happen. Organize it, polish it . . . make sure it flows. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Oh.” I braced a hand against the wall, surprised to see I was still holding the crumpled chip bags.
“He’s a football player, actually.” Quinn glanced up at me through her lashes, as though she wasn’t sure how I was going to take this news.
“Who is it?” My forehead drew together. Goddammit to hell if I was going to let my girl be out there on the West Coast, cavorting with one of these dickheads who used his football celebrity to get as much tail as he wanted. Fuck, no.