Chapter 42 Forty-One
Forty-One
Quinn
I pushed my shirts to the side, attempting to see everything I owned in my closet instead of sprawled out everywhere.
My boots were too shaded, but I knew what they looked like.
My belts were all mixed, but I could pick them apart.
My shirts needed to be steamed before I did anything else, but I could remember what I paired them with.
My head was a jumbled mess as I tried to keep this new system organized.
At least it was my head that was a mess and not my condo.
Abi was on her way to help me pack, but until then, I still had to wrap my head around what I was packing for.
The National Finals Rodeo.
I made it.
I was NFR-bound.
And I left in two days.
Two weeks, ten rounds…
This was the big one, and I thought now was a good time to change my routine.
Squatting down, I pulled out a pair of boots—brown with turquoise accents—and reached up to grab the satin shirt at the same time.
The shirt fell from the hanger, landing directly on my head, the satin sliding off my hair with that static sound everyone loves.
I could feel my hair standing on end. I stood and attempted to pat it down.
“Good lord,” I mumbled, laughing at myself.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, the vibration rattling through me. Without looking, I swiped and held it to my ear.
“Abi, please tell me you’re on your way. You’re going to lose it when you see me.” I laughed. “It’s like I touched one of the electric balls you see at a science museum.”
“Quinn?”
That wasn’t Abi’s cheerful voice. I closed my eyes tight, banged the edge of my phone on my forehead, and looked to see who had called me. Dammit—I should have checked before I answered.
“Hi, Mom,” I grumbled.
I heard her inhale. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Yeah, I…” I shook my head. I’ve been avoiding you at all costs. “I’ve been busy.”
“I see.”
She grew silent, and the space between her and me seemed too thick even through the cellular world.
She cleared her throat. “So, I talked to your dad.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “About?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Your dad was a little upset with me after we saw you last.”
“That was months ago,” I said flatly.
“Yes…” She trailed off, then let out a sigh. “He brought it to my attention that I haven’t been the best support to you through the years.”
“You haven’t.”
“I just…”
“Mom, I really don’t want to have this conversation.” I plopped on the edge of my bed.
“I do,” she snapped. “I’ve been trying to call you for weeks now, and I finally got you on the phone.”
“Did you ever think I wasn’t answering for a reason?”
“Well, you’ve been busy, but I knew you would have to answer eventually.”
“I thought you were Abi. I wouldn’t have answered if I saw it was you. Mom, I really am busy. I’m packing and—”
“Quinn, I’m trying here,” she said harshly, the same shout from my childhood, which only made my stomach churn.
“Are you, Mom? Or are you trying to make yourself feel better?” I asked, the tension finally snapping in me.
“I just wanted to connect with you somehow. You didn’t want that.”
“I didn’t want to do pageants.” I raised my arm in the air, pretending to release all the frustration. “I didn’t want to be a rodeo queen. I wanted to work. I wanted a horse. I wanted to race—but that wasn’t enough for you to be proud of me.”
“Quinn, I show you I’m proud of you in other ways.”
“Like?” I asked, the annoyance spreading through me.
Silence.
“I asked you before I moved, and you didn’t answer.”
Again, she was silent.
I inhaled. “Your silence is loud, Mom.” I exhaled.
“It’s not that I’m not proud of you,” she said softly. “I just wish you had chosen what we wanted for you.”
“That’s just it—what you wanted. Not what I wanted. You have no idea how much I love racing. How much I love this world I’m a part of. I’m good at it, great even. I’m going to the NFR—did you see that?”
“Your dad may have mentioned it,” she muttered.
“I'm packing right now. I’m looking at my closet full of shirts and boots and hats, and I have to convince you that this is what I’m supposed to be doing.” I ran my hand through my hair, still feeling the static that clung to me. “This is what I’m supposed to be doing,” I repeated.
“I…” I could hear her swallow. “I know. I can see you.”
“Then why don’t you tell me that? When you see me at an event, it’s because you’re there with your rodeo queen, and you make sure I know they are carrying the flags.
You were more interested in Wyatt than the score I got one night.
Everyone is always more important than me.
Everyone has always been more important than me. ”
“Quinn I—”
“Mom.” I stopped her. “Reno. I told you what I really needed from you…and here we are, months later, and I’m saying the same thing. I don’t think this is an easy thing that a phone call can fix. It’s not going to get better overnight.”
“I want to try to make it better.”
Slowly, I closed my eyes. “Mom—” I breathed, feeling the tears swell in my eyes. This is what I wanted, what I needed. I wanted my mom’s acceptance more than anything—and yet… “I don’t know if you can make it better.”
“I can try.”
A knock on my front door snapped me out of the melancholy that was building in my chest. I sniffed, let a few tears fall on their own, and stood.
“Maybe you can, but you can’t start now.
I still need space.” Another knock forced my feet to move.
“Abi’s here. She’s helping me pack for the NFR and then maybe after…
we can try to work on our relationship, but for right now…
” I slowly walked down my stairs, seeing the blonde of Abi’s hair through the glass. “I can’t.”
“I’ll be at the NFR. With Ke—” She stopped herself. “I’ll look for you, okay?”
Nodding, I grasped the door handle. “I gotta go, Mom.”
I heard her tsk. “Okay, we will try.”
Then she hung up before I could say anything else.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and used my thumb to wipe at the tears under my eyes.
I sniffed again, took a deep breath, and put on my best smile for my friend.
Abi was becoming close to me—enough that I knew I could talk to her, but she didn’t know about this.
The only person who knew about this was…
And I couldn’t call him now, could I?
One more calming breath was all I needed, and then I swung the door open.
“Abi—you are very late—” I froze, seeing not Abi, but finding myself staring at the man I wanted so badly to see—but never wanted to see again.
Wyatt Hartwell raised his gaze and gave me a small, sorrowful grin.
And I…
Slammed the door in his face.