Chapter 7 #2
Weston became my cause, like I had been Madoc’s. I had the best of intentions, but in the end, my intentions weren’t the legacy.
Hours later, and I wake up in my teenage bed for the last time. Tonight, I’ll be on a plane.
I check my phone. 9:48 a.m.
I haven’t slept that late in years, but I blame the jet lag. And the fact that I didn’t get to sleep until almost five. Quinn was already at the bakery. I saw a small light on when I passed by. After our conversation on the phone last night, I couldn’t sleep. Even when I got into bed, I struggled.
It wasn’t so much her words, but her tone. Playful. Inviting.
Promising.
Like she had a world of adventure in front of her, and she finally realized it. What I wouldn’t give for that feeling again.
She was toying with me, but fuck, if I were Noah or Farrow…
Where would I take her? I’m lost in my head, dreaming a pointless dream where I’m younger. A different man with a different life and a pretty young woman like that is talking to me.
Heat rushes to my groin, and I shut my eyes. Shit.
Climbing out of bed, I grab the compass off my nightstand and walk to the window. I find north-northwest.
What would my life be like if Green Street never started? If I’d never met Drew Reeves, or fucked up in a way that altered my life in one moment?
I would’ve stayed.
The summer looms ahead, warm rain and lake days and eating outside on Madoc’s patio…
I had it good.
My phone rings, and I jerk my head, on alert for Hugo Navarre. I’d ignored the call last night, too worried about Quinn, but I wanted to talk to him.
He’s not worried about the trouble that sent me away. He’s worried, because I still own that building. After a while, Lance hadn’t wanted any part of it, so I bought his half. I should’ve went with him.
I don’t give a shit about the building. I want nothing to do with any of it.
I pick up my phone, seeing the real estate agent’s name, instead.
I answer. “Paul.”
“Good morning.” He drags out the last word like a musical note. “Good news. I have someone who’d like to see the house.”
“Already?”
“Today, if possible,” he says.
That was fast. Of course, it doesn’t mean an offer, but the listing just went live yesterday. Selling a house can take years in some cases.
“Would you be able to leave it available to us?” he asks. “Around noon?”
I’d love to know who’s interested in the house. Could it be Quinn?
She mentioned craving a place of her own, and she certainly has all the co-signers she could ever want for a loan in her own family, but I have a hard time believing that she’d ask them.
“Okay,” I tell him. “Sounds good.”
What else can I say? It’s probably not even Quinn. If it is, I can talk her out of it before she signs.
“We might have an offer today,” he tells me.
“Yeah.” It would be perfect to get this settled before I fly away. “That’s great.”
“Talk soon.”
After we hang up, I throw on my workout clothes before getting busy tidying up the house. I make the bed, knowing whoever buys the house gets that too. I have no idea what else to do with it.
I start boxing up my father’s memorabilia and pack my clothes into my carry-on, removing the laundry I threw in the dryer. I put away my laptop and chargers, and make sure the food and drinks in the fridge are thrown away.
My old Cubs cap sits on a radiator, and I turn to toss it into a box, but I stop, staring at it. I’m supposed to give her the compass back now that I have the hat, but she’s barely asked for it. Maybe she’d rather have the hat.
I still can’t believe she was just wearing it—eight years after I gave it to her—when I saw her the other night at the gym. She didn’t know she would see me. Pinching the bill between my fingers, the memories come flooding back from the last time I held it like this.
When I was giving it to her…
Dropping my gaze, I saw Quinn looking at me again, but once more, she quickly turned away.
I let out a sigh, starting to feel some of that guilt Fallon talked about. Quinn had known me her entire life. Thirteen years. I guess I could muster up a ‘goodbye’ even when all I wanted to do was leave.
Walking over, I stopped next to her and knelt down. “I’m going to miss your croissants, you know?”
Her frown deepened as she continued to stare at her paper. “They’ll probably have better food and restaurants where you’re going anyway.”
“But they won’t be made by you.”
I was trying to soothe her, but she wasn’t having it. I didn’t want her to be mad at me, but I knew it was hard for a kid her age to understand.
And there were things I couldn’t explain to her right now. She was too young. She should be happy and excited without a care in the world, and I hated that she was wasting even one minute of her time thinking I was going to be worth missing.
“Well, stay trained up, okay?” I nudged her shoulder with my hand. “I might be back to visit soon, and I’ll expect to try some of your new recipes.”
“You won’t be back at all,” she mumbled, still not looking at me.
“How do you know?”
“Because everyone lies to make people feel better.”
I narrowed my gaze, studying her. Where the hell had she come up with a thought like that?
She finally lifted her sad, brown eyes. “You’ll find new friends and forget about us.”
I shook my head, no clue what to say next. Would I make friends where I was going? Probably. Was I sure I’d be back? No. Right now, I never wanted to come back here.
But I wanted her to feel better, so, without thinking, I took off my cap and fit it over her head, chuckling when the visor part fell over her eyes.
“I will be back,” I argued. “I’ll have to get my cap back, right?”
She plucked the hat off her head, her eyes going wide as she studied it.
“You can’t give me this,” she breathed out, stunned. She knew it was my father’s and how much I loved it. But for some reason, I didn’t feel like I would miss it if I knew it would mean something to her.
“I already did,” I shot back. “So take care of it, okay?”
Standing up, I cast her one last smile before turning around to head to my car. I needed to get out of here. I was lying to her. I was lying to everyone. I had no intention of returning, even for the baseball cap. I just didn’t want her to hate me. She was the only person who thought I was a hero.
“Lucas!” I heard a yell behind me.
I spun around just in time to see Quinn dig in her backpack and pull out something small. Rushing over to me, she handed me the circular metal case.
“Now you have to come back.” She smiled and then dashed off, back to her seat on the ground.
Pinching my eyebrows together, confused, I opened my hand, immediately recognizing the compass her mom gave to her one year for Christmas.
Shit. This was vintage and an heirloom. If she didn’t want it back, her family would. I couldn’t keep it.
I flipped it over, studying the piece, and saw the words inscribed on the back. “Happiness is a direction, not a place.”
She was wise, even then. She knew that no matter where I ran, I’d bring my shit with me.
I set the Cubs cap down next to my keys to take to the party tonight. I want her to have it. If I can’t be here, my heart can.
I clean out the sink and wipe down the counters, hearing the doorbell ring. I toss the cloth down and head to the door.
A FedEx driver stands on the porch. “Lucas Morrow?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He hands me a phone with a stylus. “Sign here, please.”
I scribble my name and swap him for the package, closing the door.
I inspect the box, recognizing the Dubai address. I sigh, wondering what emergency I missed that my assistant needed to overnight a package from across the world.
But as I peel open the tissue paper, I don’t see a tablet or documents inside. A small white box sits on top of a soft, white twill button-down, and I pick it up, rubbing the fabric between my fingers.
My stomach sinks. What is she up to?
Setting the shirt down, I open the smaller package and take out a bottle of cologne.
I cock an eyebrow as I swipe up a card with my assistant’s writing on it.
Leave three buttons open.
And wear the cologne. It’s lethal. I want to impregnate every man who wears it.
Have fun tonight.
-Isobel
Impregnate. A laugh catches in my throat.
And what does she mean, tonight? To the cookout at Madoc’s? How does she know about…?
But then it occurs to me. My calendar. I’d put it in my phone. I box the shit back up, ready to get it out of the way for the real estate agent and potential buyer.
But…
I do need a clean shirt tonight.
Quickly, I remove it from the box and hang it up in the closet, setting the box on the floor.
Taking my laptop case, I walk to my car at the curb, sweeping the street for that Traverse I’ve seen twice now. I want to see it. I want to know who’s inside and that Madoc and the others are safe if I leave.
The street is nearly empty, though. I climb into my car.
I’ll kill time at the gym, catch up on some emails, and maybe get some lunch before I head back here to shower and see Madoc for the last time.
It would be better to blow it off and leave now.
But I know I’ll go to the party, and I know why, even if I push the thought away before it can take form.
I just want to make sure she gets the hat back. That’s all.
A breath stuck in my chest, I drive to Madoc’s.
I go through the list in my head. Say goodbye to Tate, Juliet, and all the kids. Madoc and Fallon will be last. Don’t forget Jason and Katherine.
Farrow Kelly and Noah Van der Berg will probably be there as friends of the families. I don’t need to address them.
And give Quinn the hat. Assuming I can keep the compass.
What if she’s not there? I punch the gas, telling myself it’s better if she’s not. I’m a little worried about looking into her eyes and saying goodbye again.
It’ll be good to get back home, though. To the salty sea air. The spices and sunbaked desert. The sounds of the music pouring out of shops and the feel of my sheets.