Chapter 18
QUINN
My head was spinning on the drive back home. Shayla was saying that it had been the best day in a long time and she was ever so grateful for my help, especially as I’d shown up at short notice. That wasn’t why I was in a flap though.
It was the nearness of Miller Trask.
And the fact that he hadn’t said anything about what had gone down today.
Not about Noah Forbes mentioning my father’s business collapsing.
Nor my card being declined for insufficient funds.
Or the way he’d sat and looked at me in the back of the truck sharing a cinnamon roll.
..when I secretly—or stupidly—wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
And now, in this forced proximity, I could hardly function. Because I couldn’t understand all the crazy feelings happening, the heart flutterings, the breathing difficulty, the weird sensations that had me ready to burst out of my skin.
Because now, more than ever, I had to stay away from Miller.
He knew too much. Or rather, he had the potential to know too much.
He’d only have to use some basic logic to work things out: I’d left my prep school, I no longer had a car, I was working the Spud Harvest, my father’s business closed down and my card declined for a coffee cart purchase.
It wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
There was too much at stake, too much risk being this close to Miller.
As we neared Snow Ridge, I texted Mom that I’d meet her at the salon. I kept my phone low on my lap so Miller couldn’t see it, not that he appeared to be looking my way, more interested in the passing scenery. Mom answered with a thumbs up emoji which indicated she was busy working.
Shayla insisted Miller and I take a bag of potatoes and other vegetables when she dropped us off. I had been about to turn down the offer—not wanting to look like a freeloader because we were getting paid for our time—but Miller took his bags with unabashed gratitude.
“Appreciate it, Shayla,” he said. “Thanks a bunch.”
“My pleasure,” Shayla replied. “See you guys.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, taking my two bags, but realizing I’d have to carry them with me to the salon.
“You need a ride?” Miller asked.
“No, I’m good,” I said, lifting the bags into my arms.
Miller shrugged. “Fine then,” he said, putting on his helmet which made me wonder if he’d thought I’d ride on the back of his motorcycle. It kind of blew my mind because I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before. Motorcycles were for...well, people like the Trasks, Mom would say.
Mom was the last one working—as per usual—but today I helped with cleaning up as she finished her last client. I wiped mirrors, sprayed counters, sterilized equipment and swept the floor. I didn’t mind doing it, but I did have an ulterior motive. When Mom cashed up the register, I piped up.
“Hey, you wouldn’t be able to lend me some cash would you? I had to buy my lunch at the market and had to borrow some money.”
“Borrow some money?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, I didn’t take any,” I said, not about to admit my public humiliation.
I don’t know why I hadn’t checked my balance but the Karma cafe and the bus ticket home had emptied my account.
“And we won’t get paid till the end of the harvest. Oh, and Shayla gave us some potatoes and veggies too. For free.”
Mom hesitated but then peeled off a ten dollar bill. And then another. “Is that enough?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “Hey, are we doing okay, you know, money wise? Are we going to be okay?”
Mom pursed her lips. “The bills are being paid,” she said, letting out a sigh. I thought she was going to say something else, finally tell me about selling her handbags, but she only nodded her head.
“I...I can help out when I get paid,” I said. “Someone said we’ll get close to a thousand dollars if we stick out the whole harvest. Already some kids dropped out, even after the first day.”
Mom shut the cash register. She clasped her hands together and smiled at me. Like, a real, heartfelt smile. “You’ve really stepped up Quinn. I’m proud of you,” she said, her eyes misting over.
I swallowed hard, like a lump was stuck in my throat. Praise from Mom was rare at the best of times, almost as rare as a show of emotion.
“I want to help,” I murmured, unsure of how to deal with her sentimentality.
Mom’s hand pressed my shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I mumbled, uncomfortable with her touch, as innocuous as it was. But it struck me that Mom hardly ever hugged or showed physical affection, not even to Dad. She was always worried about messing her hair or nails or crumpling a linen suit.
Because of the Farmers Market, it was my first day in a week where I was home before eight. Twelve hour days had become the norm, and I was getting a good idea of the amount of hours Mom worked and could only guess at her level of fatigue.
I hadn’t had a chance to watch any of my tv shows, read a book, scroll through social media or call Dad.
My bathroom didn’t have a bathtub so I used the main bathroom down the hallway, pouring in some scented bubbles, lighting the candle Mason had given me, setting up a speaker and music and a bath pillow.
I intended to relax until the water went cold.
There had been no time all week to tend to my sore muscles, aching from the non-stop work.
The warm water and gentle jets were soothing and I laid back and checked my phone.
Seemed I’d missed a lot. Celeste had posted a lot of dance trend videos and it was devastating to see I’d been replaced by Ashlyn, a girl Celeste had once deemed a try-hard.
Well, Ashlyn was now well and truly part of the dance squad.
One video had received thousands more views than usual and I read through the comments, though immediately wished I hadn’t.
Love the new lineup
Great addition
Love this so much
You guys are better than ever
The comments themselves weren’t horrible, but the replies were...devastatingly unkind.
Yeah, Ashlyn is a real improvement, Celeste had answered to one, and We’re really rocking it now and Yep, better than before. To every comment, Celeste or Naomi, though not blatantly dissing me, managed to show their preference for Ashlyn.
I clicked onto our various group chats only to find there were no messages at all.
Nothing to me, nothing between Celeste and Naomi.
The unoriginally named CNQ had always been our major chat, but it was obvious the girls had created new chats.
So without blocking me, they had theoretically locked me out of their conversations.
I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the pillow, air ceasing to flow through my lungs.
Not meeting at the cafe had been unfortunate timing, or so I’d convinced myself, but it was now crystal clear that I’d been deliberately left out, was no longer in the loop, however you wanted to say it.
It was an ache that reached my core, that sunk my spirits, that caused tears to flow.
There was little consolation in the messages received from Elise and Blanche. Elise wanted me to help with a survey and Blanche had texted again, reminding me to reply asap, but it was probably something about Art Club and would be too late now .
With my finger tips wrinkled and the water cooling, I got out, smelling sweet and florally, but switched up the scent for citrus and bleach.
I scrubbed the tub, wiped the walls and mopped the floor, all the time fighting the tears.
Cleaning demanded focus on the basic details, and I needed that distraction more than ever.
The next week I fully immersed myself in the harvest, working harder than ever, taking only short breaks to eat and drink and then carrying on.
My stomach felt heavy, like it was filled with rocks.
Knowing Celeste and Naomi had basically cut me from their lives was gut-wrenching and the need to keep the family secret and stay away from Miller was draining.
As soon as Miller entered the lunch shed, I’d leave.
I couldn’t have him asking questions. I’d repaid him the money, meaning I owed him nothing.
My only salvation was the endless potatoes rolling past me on the conveyer belt.
Many times I was offered other roles, helping with pipes or driving the truck, but I didn’t mind picking out the dirt clods, in fact I found it therapeutic.
When Shayla searched me out and asked me if I could do the Farmers Market again, I was about to say no.
The chance of running into anyone from my old school was mortifying, but Shayla mentioned the possibility of staying on after her baby was born, and in my desperate position, I’d be a fool to turn it down.
Plus, I’d actually enjoyed working the stand, almost like retail was in my blood.
The other factor to consider was working with Miller Trask.
And not just because it would make keeping the secret more of a burden, but.
..I didn’t know how I felt about him. I was doing great in staying away from him, but I didn’t like staying away from him.
Even though we barely spoke, in a bizarre way, I missed him.
“Is it okay if I check with my Mom first?” I asked Shayla. “It’s just I don’t have a car at the moment so she’d have to drop me into town.”
“Of course, by all means,” Shayla said, “and if transport is a problem, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Thanks, I’ll you know tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Shayla said.