Chapter 29 #3
That was when Quinn had gone from being an unknown person to someone he saw every day as he did his best to follow through with his promise.
Again, things were blurry around the how parts, like how he figured out he liked Quinn.
How did he convince the edgy boy to like him?
And how the hell did he convince the scary goth kid to get on his knees and suck his dick in the school bathroom almost every day?
“You’re being abnormally quiet,” said Quinn. “You’re not scared to see Alara and Emira, are you? They’ve seen you plenty of times when Eren hosts dinners.”
August turned to look at him so Quinn could see the sincerity in his smile. “No, I like the girls. Last time I was over, and they were there, they called me Snowy, and asked if I would carry them around on my shoulders.”
Quinn had to keep his eyes on the road, but he glanced at August and smiled. “Snowy? That’s so cute. Did you give them a ride?”
August scoffed because, yes, he had given his captain’s children what they wanted. He had always felt on the outs with his team, so if catering to two adorable little girls was what he had to do for people to like him, he did it.
“I figured,” said Quinn without having to hear August’s answer. “It still baffles me how you didn’t recognize Esme. I didn’t think she changed that much in appearance, unlike me.”
August had no explanation for Quinn that would make sense—not yet. The truth was, he never would have recognized her because he couldn’t even remember what his mother looked like, and he had known her a lot better than a girl he once talked to in high school.
Quinn’s questions stopped after August went quiet, and they didn’t talk again until they were pulling into the parking lot of a rink he knew was close to Callahan’s home.
August took his time getting out of the car, waiting awkwardly as two children bolted from the backseat of the SUV parked beside them to tackle Quinn in a hug.
The girls were still as adorable as the last time he had seen them. Their hair was the same dark brown as Quinn’s, but they had Callahan’s blue eyes, and they were full of energy.
“Quinn! You brought Snowy!” One of the girls shouted, waving frantically at August. “Is he here to watch us?”
Quinn exchanged a look with the woman who was handing the children off, muttering something about how August was about to steal his ‘uncle spotlight’.
The quieter girl approached cautiously, frowning in a way that reminded him of Quinn.
“The last game was so cool, Mr. Snow. You scored twice and got pushed around by the goalie, but why didn’t you fight him?”
August knelt so she wouldn’t have to hurt her neck to look up at him. “August or Snowy is fine. And I didn’t fight the goalie because he was small, and I didn’t want to hurt him.”
The other girl approached him much faster, bouncing on the heels of her feet. “Daddy said that you’re a gentle giant, and that you don’t like to fight,” then she turned to her sister and said, “Duh.”
Wow, August was starting to have rapid-fire flashbacks to the arguments between Quinn and Esme. But unlike back then, August didn’t have to intervene because Quinn pushed forward, separating the siblings.
“If you start fighting, no hockey,” Quinn announced, grabbing the arms of his nieces to keep control over them. “If you want to bicker with each other, save it for the ice, brats.”
“I’m dropping my gloves after the whistle,” said the quieter twin, mimicking her uncle’s stern tone. “You’d better be ready, Alara. And no crying this time.”
Now Quinn was sharing a look with August that screamed, save me from this family of puckheads, and August chuckled.
The girls were eager to get inside and put on their skates, so August let Quinn take the lead since he wasn’t familiar with the arena. And because he was dumb and forgot to bring a cap and sunglasses to hide his face, people took notice of him when he walked inside.
“Ah shit,” said August.
One of the twins gasped.
“Snowy, you’re not supposed to swear. Daddy tells Uncle Quinn that all the time.”
Quinn shushed her, reaching out to take August’s hand to keep him calm, but the whispers had already started. Excited kids with excited parents were creeping forward like an approaching tide.
“Hey, Quinn. It’s almost time for the kids to get on the ice,” said a pretty blonde-haired woman that August sort of recognized. She pushed through the murmuring crowd with a little boy on her hip, along with another woman who was holding onto a boy who looked to be the same age as the twins.
The girls lit up when they spotted their friend, and their babbling was loud enough to mask Quinn’s answer of, “Save us, Bea.”
Bea shot a look at the people surrounding them and peered at August, and it was that moment that he recognized her as Logan Bradshaw’s wife, Beatrice.
“Damage control,” said Bea with a nod. “August, you’ll probably have to sign autographs after practice to get out of this. Is that okay?”
August would have agreed, but then Quinn pressed into his side and shook his head. “No,” he hissed. “Make them go away or something. August shouldn’t have to sign crap just because he’s in public.”
Bea set her hand on her hip and readjusted the kid she was holding. “Public for you guys is dangerous right now. Did you not get my damn text?”
Before August could think better of it, he took out his phone and almost threw up when he saw several missed calls from his agent, his captain, and his fucking mother.
He wasn’t paying attention when Bea asked her friend to take the children to the locker room and change into their skates. The only thing he was aware of was how fast Quinn’s pulse was fluttering in his wrist from where August was gripping it too hard.
One search on Google was all he needed to do to find several articles about him and Quinn, including pictures outside of their weekend in Toronto, going as far back as the charity ball months ago.
Nothing was damning in any of the articles. It was simple and nosy speculation on whether August and Quinn were dating, and so far, the response appeared positive, but it wasn’t why he was having a meltdown.
The meltdown was happening because of his mother’s six missed calls, and even though she couldn’t hurt him anymore, it still—
“August! I can’t believe my luck.”
No. Not that voice.
“I prayed to God I would see you again some day, and here you are.”
Whose voice was it? And why did hearing it make him feel like his mind was shattering?
“I was sorry to hear about your father.”
Something about a room. A room with a bookshelf and a blinking red light. It was always cold—but why was it always cold?
“I don’t believe the crap they’re posting right now.”
It was cold because he was terrified. August was always terrified of that room—that light—
“There’s no way you’re out here dating men when I know you and this guy are friendly from high school, bunch of morons.”
A hand clamped down on August’s shoulder with enough weight to make his knees start to buckle, and he met cold, grey eyes that made him feel like he was staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
“Besides,” said the man who had been haunting the shadows of his mind. A man who had gone to church with his father every week, and had once been like an uncle to August. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your father, would you?”
August didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.
His vision was going black. His head felt like someone had struck him with a pickaxe. His blood turned to cement in his veins, making every movement feel astronomically heavy.
“I—”
Blood spilled from his nose into his open mouth—so much of it that he choked on his next breath.
He needed to run. He needed to run now before Coach grabbed him and dragged him into his office, put him in a chair and—
August let go of Quinn’s wrist and bolted.