39. Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Quinn
Quinn’s stomach burbled, tossing with each blindfolded step closer to the house. Or at least, he presumed closer to the house. This could all have been an elaborate ploy to execute him on a major streaming service, though that seemed pretty unlikely.
Easier to imagine wild hypotheticals than to simply stand with his nerves thrumming, though.
“Hey, Quinn.” Mason’s voice, right up close to him. “Sorry for the odd circumstances. I usually only blindfold men in private.”
Quinn forced a laugh, but didn’t talk. His stomach felt too weak and woozy for actual speech. This was it. The result. The end of this stressful-ass, wonderful-ass adventure.
“We went through a lot of stuff with this house, and you were there for plenty of it. But I think you’ll be impressed with the end result. I know I am. You remember what it looked like before?”
Quinn nodded, but the pause continued on. Clearly, he wasn’t getting off with complete silence. “Yeah. It was quite a scene, that’s for sure. Lots of boxes, garbage. The porch all broken in, covered in rotting furniture. The lawn…had to give up on the lawn at a certain point. Couldn’t keep up with that and keeping the house livable.” That itching reappeared behind his eyes and he clenched down everything as hard as he could. They could have his reaction to the house, but they didn’t get his grief. Plus, if he let the grief about his grandpa spill free, that got awfully close to the edges of the grief over Jake. Which was decidedly not on the schedule for the day. “It was in rough shape for sure.”
“Well, I’m hoping we managed to do a decent enough job and really turn this into a place you can stay and feel comfortable. I’m sure there are so many memories all tied into this place. Hopefully, we’ve given you a place they can be preserved for a long time.”
By changing everything. Quinn knew it was his own insecurity, his own rising emotion, manifesting as that snarky internal monologue. Didn’t make it go away, but he at least had the presence of mind not to say it. Better than last time, when I just let go and said what was on my mind.
A hand pressed on Quinn’s back, smack dab between his shoulder blades, and pushed him forward, to the left, forward again. Then the hand moved up to his shoulder and pinned him in place. “All right, I think we’re in a good spot?”
Murmuring from the side, and although he couldn’t make out any actual words, it sounded positive enough.
He got confirmation when Mason piped up again. “All right, whenever you’re ready, take off your blindfold and get a look at what we put together for you.”
Quinn’s stomach lurched. This was it. Not only the house, but Jake. Everything changing. A beginning and an ending. His hands shook when he reached up for the sleep mask and slowly lifted it.
Light pierced his eyes, blinding him, and he blinked. At first, he all he could see was a vague blue outline of the house. Then the gleam of the windows. The bright colors of the flowers in the garden beds. The large tree off to the right of the driveway.
The more he blinked, the more details clarified of the house before him. The porch was lovely and square, no longer cluttered, and no longer rotting. A small outdoor sofa sat just to the right of the door, a perfect spot for him to sit and look out on the streets in the morning. Without fully realizing what he was doing, Quinn took a deep sniff, filling his lungs with the scent of flowers. The smell he could get every morning with his coffee out there on the porch.
A new pressure swelled through his chest and he smiled at the house. I wish you were still around to see this, Grandpa.
Slowly, he walked forward, taking it all in. “How did you…you couldn’t have done this much work just since the last time I was here.” He looked over at the tree, now surrounded by mulch and little, jewel-toned flowers. “Ozzy covered up the stupid root.”
On they continued. The cameras melted into the background as he climbed the steps up onto the porch. The door was a brilliant blue, and he pointedly didn’t look through the paned window on the top, wanting to preserve the full experience of walking into it properly. So he opened it and gave it a shove, and it glided like it wasn’t a century old hoarder house.
Inside, not much had changed, yet everything had changed. Furniture in place, lights dim and warm, a pleasant aroma, like vanilla and pine. A long, turquoise runner muffled his footfalls along the entryway. The open kitchen to the left, complete with the shelves that he had helped hang up. To the right, a living room, closed in by a corner sofa. It looked downright cozy. His thoughts drifted to a potential future, sitting there, enjoying the view out the window. Or watching TV. Watching Jake’s old videos. Watching jake on this show. Sitting there with Jake. Gaming with Jake.
He closed his eyes and turned his attention back to the kitchen. They really had done an amazing job of it, brought in matching containers for his dry goods, a new coffee maker, shiny appliances. Another turn and he looked at the stairs. Apparently really looked at them for the first time. “You refinished the stairs, too?”
Mason nodded. “We don’t leave things half-assed. It was toward the end, though, so I’m glad it made a good impact.” He shifted around, putting himself between Quinn and the hallway that led out to the back yard. “We want to save the best for last, so let’s go on upstairs and see the progress.”
Quinn nodded and headed up. In the bathroom, he got passed off to Robinson, who smiled gently as he explained the changes. Quinn only barely registered him as he checked out the bathroom. A massive tub looking out into the tall trees of the neighbor’s property, with a separate shower tucked into the corner. All very light and bright, with plush towels stacked up on a built-in shelving unit. Like everywhere else, the place smelled pleasant. Quinn looked at Robinson again and nodded. “Are you guys going to tell me what air freshener you use? I need to stock up.”
He laughed. “I’m sure Evander will be more than happy to share.” Robinson gave him a quick tour, talking about the water pressure and the new water heater they’d put in—considering Quinn couldn’t remember his grandpa ever changing it out, it was probably well overdue—then guided him out to the tiny laundry closet. New machines there as well, stacked on top of each other, with shelving tucked into the side for any detergents or dryer sheets or whatever would fit in the little space leftover.
His office was next. The more he saw, the more overwhelming the whole thing became. Even the feel of the carpet, the lack of squeak in the floorboards, the quality of the light…it was still his house. His grandpa’s house. But the way it always felt instead of how it was those last several years.
Stepping into the office, Quinn stumbled to a stop. His eyes prickled again. “Where did you find so many pictures?”
“Well, we didn’t just chuck stuff into the trash and move on.” Mason again, joined now by Aras. “We went through and, when we found this stuff, we went ahead and got it framed.”
Quinn walked slowly through the office. An entire gallery wall, full of photos of him. His grandpa. His grandma. The day he moved in with them. His sixteenth birthday. Camping, even though his grandpa hated staying anywhere less fancy than a three-star hotel. His grandma out in the flowerbeds, covered in dirt.
He turned and his vision blurred, but not before he saw the air purifier. The same damn one they’d looked for. The one he’d finally found, proving his grandpa wasn’t totally out of his head. Tears dripped down his cheeks as he walked up. “Damn it. You guys got me.”
“It was a good model,” said Aras. “Shame to let it go to waste. Plus it’s got a dehumidifier built in. Good for the computer.”
Quinn nodded and swiped at his eyes, then took in the rest. They hadn’t brought in any electronics to fill the desk, since he had everything at home, and they’d already told him they’d need some pickup shots once he got everything settled. A plush chair in deep emerald sat in front of the desk, which he lowered into with a groan. “Holy shit. I mean crap. I mean—”
“You can curse up a storm.” Aras cracked what may well have been the first smile Quinn had seen on his face this entire job. “Either it makes it through and we’re on a TV-MA home reno show, or the editors earn their keep bleeping us.”
Quinn chuckled and took a few moments looking around to try and get his composure. He imagined his computer there, his keyboard and mouse and all his paperwork. Walking from the bedroom—still unseen—to the bathroom, down to the kitchen for coffee, then back up to spend his day up here crunching numbers.
And since he was in fantasy mode, he let himself imagine he wasn’t alone. He let himself picture himself running into a tall, smiling blond guy who smelled suspiciously like sawdust.