Chapter 27 Quentin #2
She looked up at him, eyes searching. Not accusing. Just waiting.
He swallowed hard. “I remember now.”
The memory came rushing in. That set. That day. The pressure. The grief.
“I swear to you, I would never have done that if I’d been in my right mind,” he said, voice hoarse. “It wasn’t you. It was never about you.”
She stayed quiet, letting him speak.
“That day…” Quentin’s voice caught in his throat. “It was the anniversary of my sister’s death. She passed the year before. She was waiting on a lung transplant, but it didn’t come in time. Then she got pneumonia, and it just…” He swallowed hard. “She didn’t make it.”
His gaze dropped, shame flickering in his expression.
“I was in L.A., trying to build my career. I thought if I could land something big, I’d finally have the money to help her, to get her better care.
I really thought she had more time. She always bounced back when she got sick.
So I didn’t book the flight back to see her.
But I waited too long and I… wasn’t there when she died. ”
He drew a shaky breath. “That day on set was my first time leading a film. Everyone was watching me. The pressure, the grief, it was already crushing me. And when you made that joke…”
He shook his head, his voice raw. “It just shattered something in me. I was already drowning in guilt. That job, that role, it had taken me away from her. Made me believe I was doing the right thing while she…” His voice cracked. “While she was dying.”
He looked at her then, eyes wet and voice trembling. “I was hanging on by a thread, and that moment just... made everything collapse. But Sadie, I swear to you I would never have wanted you fired. I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t even know it happened until later.”
“You didn’t deserve that,” he whispered. “You were trying to help. And I made you feel like you didn’t belong.”
“I didn’t know,” she murmured. “God, that was such a thoughtless thing to say. Especially since I’d just lost Rebecca a few months before that. You’d think I’d be more careful, but… I’ve always used dark humor to cope. And when I’m nervous, I ramble.”
He shook his head. “You couldn’t have known. I took my pain out on you, and that’s on me.”
She studied him for a long, quiet moment. “Thank you for telling me,” she said finally. “For explaining.”
She exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging.
“I held onto it for years, you know?” Her voice wavered.
“I let it mess with my head. I avoided big projects. Told myself I wasn’t built for that world.
That I didn’t belong in rooms like that.
” She swallowed. “Because the first time I tried… it blew up in my face.”
Her words lingered in the air, raw and honest. Quentin felt them land hard, every one of them. Not just because of what she’d lost but because of what he’d unknowingly taken.
“Sadie,” he said softly, his chest tight. “You’re one of the best artists I’ve ever worked with. And I hate that I had anything to do with you doubting that. I’ll never forgive myself for it.”
“Quentin—” she started, her voice soft. But her words were cut short by a sudden knock at the door.
“Come eat!” Carmen’s voice chimed from the other side, teasing and full of energy. “Mom made a feast, and I’m sure you two worked up quite the appetite last night!”
Quentin groaned, tilting his head back. “Carmen,” he muttered under his breath, his tone exasperated.
Sadie, however, didn’t seem phased in the slightest. “I am famished,” she said with a shrug.
Quentin shook his head, running a hand through his hair as Carmen continued banging on the door.
“Coming!” he barked, dragging himself off the bed.
“You could’ve come last night, but nooo,” Sadie muttered, not even trying to whisper. “You had to go on your little power trip instead.”
He froze mid-step. Turned slowly with one brow arched.
She didn’t flinch. Just lay there like temptation in a messy hair, tangled sheets, and zero remorse. That smirk of hers said she knew exactly what she was doing and worse, she knew it was working. Quentin’s jaw ticked.
His body was already halfway back to the bed, every nerve ending still lit up with the memory of last night.
Her voice still clung to his skin, smug and sultry, and God help him, it made him want to lose the last shred of control he had left.
She wasn’t wrong, he had pulled back too fast. And now she was weaponizing it with that wicked mouth of hers.
BANG BANG BANG.
"?ábreme la puerta, pendejo!" Carmen's voice rang out, all authority and impatience.
Quentin closed his eyes and palmed his face. Yeah, this was going to be a long day.
Breakfast was its usual brand of chaos, laughter and chatter ricocheting off the walls like it had never stopped. Being back at the table felt good, even if it tugged at something buried deep.
Quentin’s gaze landed on the bowl of grapefruits in the center.
Delly’s favorite. They were always there, always untouched.
His mom still bought them every grocery run, even though no one ate them.
It was her quiet way of caring for Delly, even five years after she was gone.
Memory was the safest shelter for grief.
Some things stayed behind, holding space for everything that didn’t.
Five years, and still so much of the house felt frozen in time.
It was comforting and impossibly hard. That was why he stayed away.
Because being here hurt. Because every corner held memories that pressed against his ribs, heavy and unrelenting.
And because no matter how much time passed, that old guilt never really left.
It just settled in, quiet and patient, waiting for moments like this to rise again.
Before he could spiral too far, Carmen did what she did best, ran her mouth.
“You wouldn’t believe the drama with the barn animals lately,” she announced, spearing a piece of toast. “The goats are at war, Piggy Pete fell into the pen. Again. And the hens? Completely out of control.”
“…Come again?”
Carmen sighed dramatically. “Barnyard politics, Q. It’s a delicate ecosystem.”
“Wait, who’s Piggy Pete?”
“One of the new guys. Poor guy tripped and landed face-first in the pig pen. Guess what everyone’s calling him now?” She grinned, clearly thriving off this poor man’s suffering.
Quentin shook his head, laughing softly. “That’s brutal.”
“Oh, but the hens,” she said, eyes wide with seriousness. “They’re staging a full-blown coup. One of them laid an egg in my cowboy boot yesterday. My boot!”
“Why leave your boots in the egg laying vicinity?” Quentin chuckled, the weight on his chest lifting just a little.
Carmen shot him a withering look. “I don’t live in the damn coop, Quentin. I took them off by the porch for five minutes, and apparently, that was long enough for some freeloading feathered nuisance to claim squatters’ rights.”
“More like squawking rights. Am I right?” Quentin grinned, holding up his hand for a high five.
Carmen stared at his hand like it carried a contagious disease. “This isn’t a joke,” she said flatly before picking up a piece of toast and launching it at his head.
Quentin dodged and just laughed harder. “You’re really cracking under the pressure, huh?”
Carmen grabbed another piece of toast, eyes narrowing. “Say one more bird pun, and I swear—”
Quentin held up his hands in surrender, still grinning.
Meanwhile, Mom was sneakily slipping Rocco scraps under the table, despite Abuelita’s ongoing rant about spoiling the dog.
Sadie, somehow, fit right in. She was totally at ease, chatting with Carmen, laughing at Mom’s antics, even nodding along to Abuelita’s rapid-fire Spanish. Which was impressive, considering Quentin knew for a fact she didn’t understand a word of it.
Not that that stopped Abuelita. She kept calling Sadie gringa like it was punctuation.
“Abuelita, por favor,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as she tossed out another casual gringa.
“What?” she said in Spanish, eyes twinkling, utterly unbothered. “She is a gringa. But she’s a polite one. I like her.”
Carmen leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, Sadie,” she began, her tone fake-sweet, which meant she was about to be very annoying. “Have you ever mucked a horse stall?”
Quentin groaned inwardly. This was Ramos family hazing, plain and simple.
Sadie didn’t flinch. “Nope,” she said casually, spearing another bite of omelet. “But I’ve cleaned a litter box. Same concept, right? Just... more poop. Bigger audience.”
Carmen barked out a laugh, slapping the table for good measure. “Oh, my sweet summer child,” she said, her voice laced with mock sympathy. “You are in for a day.”
Sadie arched an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching upward as if daring Carmen to try her best. Quentin watched the exchange, his own smirk forming. It seemed Carmen had finally met her match.
“Let’s get mucking. Just show this gringa—” she paused, locking eyes with Abuelita, “—where the shovels are.”
Abuelita snorted into her coffee. Carmen nearly toppled out of her chair.
Quentin just shook his head, grinning. Sadie had been here less than twelve hours and already she was fluent in Ramos family chaos.
The day was barely getting started but one thing was clear: Sadie wasn’t about to let the Ramos family rattle her.