Chapter 7 #3
Unable to stop the image before it comes, I see Quinn in my head, on top of me and barely shrouded in the shadow of the drapes over the moonlight that streams through my window in my apartment. The sheets fall down her legs like water as she presses her body into mine.
My mouth falls open. What would it be like to have her out there with me, all to myself, for a visit? I could. No one would think a thing if I looked out for her while she travels. And we wouldn’t be here, so I wouldn’t have to be on guard. I mean, why not?
All to myself…
Another image flashes through my mind, her in my bed, every night…
Her moans hit my ear, and my groin swells and aches, making me groan. The car swerves, and I jerk the wheel, tires screeching under me.
My chest caves. Fuck.
What the hell? Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I breathe hard, trying to keep the car straight.
It’s Quinn.
Quinn!
Dammit.
I pull up to Madoc’s house, halting quickly, and leave the Cubs cap on my passenger seat this time. It’s the last business I have with her. Later. If she shows.
I grab the bottle of top-shelf Scotch whisky instead, unopened and left over from my father’s things, that I want Madoc to have.
The massive, circular driveway has nothing in the center—no fountain or flowerbed—just a basketball hoop on the far left where I played with Madoc a few times. I loved being here, and in my memory, I still hear the ball bounce and the leaves blow on the crisp fall days.
The space is now filled with cars. I take inventory of Jared’s Dark Horse, Jax’s McLaren, a couple of JT Racing work trucks, several others I don’t recognize, and three motorbikes.
Quinn’s bicycle isn’t here.
Madoc opens the door as soon as I reach for the handle.
I smile, holding up my bottle. “Brought the good stuff.” I step inside. “Let’s compare.”
He takes the liquor out of my hands. “Happily.”
Fallon had warned me he distilled some of the worst Irish whiskey her father had ever tasted, but Madoc made sure to also add that her father drank it every time he visited. I’ve never tried Irish, so cheers. I just hope I stay sober enough to get myself on a plane tonight.
He closes the door, and I walk with him through the foyer. “You invited too many people, didn’t you?”
“Psh…”
I cock an eyebrow. That wasn’t an answer. He knows I don’t like to be the center of attention. He has Kade for that, unless that kid has changed.
Jared’s wife Tate approaches, followed by Fallon, Jax, and his wife Juliet. I glance behind them, taking in the patio full of people. Music vibrates against the sliding glass doors.
I embrace Tate. “Hey.”
She squeezes me and then pulls back. “Oh, you smell good.”
I chuckle. Good call on the cologne, Isobel. But I look around, making sure Jared wasn’t in earshot of that.
Dylan, who I’d seen briefly at the camp a couple of days ago, pushes through and wraps her arms around my neck, giving me a quick hug.
“Lookin’ good,” she says, pulling back and surveying me.
“But the boys are gonna mess you all up. They want to play football.” She tilts her head side to side. “Well, Kade wants to play football.”
Quinn isn’t here. I almost ask where she is, but it’ll seem like it’s the first thing on my mind.
Everyone trails outside, and I spot Lance with a young brunette, as well as some locals I vaguely recognize who probably work for the Caruthers and Trents. Others appear to be college kids, friends of Dylan, Hawke, and the others.
“What time’s your flight?” Madoc asks.
“Not till eleven.”
We stop at the bar, and he turns to face me. “I wish you were staying.”
“I have a meeting first thing Monday,” I tell him, fighting the regret in my voice. “No place to stay for long anyway. I have some interest in the house already.”
His eyebrows dart up, and I glance around the patio, searching.
“That was quick,” he replies, but I see his expression falter. “That’s… good, I guess.”
Yeah.
“And you always have a place to stay.” Fallon passes by, placing a tray of fruit on the patio table.
Madoc pours us a couple of drams of each other’s whiskey, and we sip each, testing the Scotch versus the Irish. I blow out a breath, the Irish burning a bit more. But not bad.
I pour another two fingers, the last of his bottle, as he laughs. Victorious.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell him with a smile.
I walk over to Lance, taking another swallow and letting the liquor warm my nerves.
The early evening breeze carries the scent of lilacs and grass, and a memory washes over me of how fast summers went when I lived here because I looked forward to every day so much.
All of the outside activities everyone enjoyed—swimming, canoeing, concerts, picnics, ice cream runs, yard work, barbecuing, roasting marshmallows, and dining al fresco.
But the pull of north-northwest, where my dread is buried in a shallow grave in the woods, slides up my neck. I wouldn’t love the summers here anymore. Not like I once did.
I step up to Lance, forcing a smile as I look down at his companion who wears a rock on her finger that glints in the torch lights set up on the grass.
“Marie?” I shake hands with his new wife. “I’m Lucas. Nice to meet you.”
Her lips spread in a bright smile, drawing attention to the freckles on her nose. Quinn’s are fainter. I wonder if they still become more prominent in the sun. “You too,” Marie says.
I gesture to her husband. “He making you happy?”
“For now,” she jokes.
My friend scoffs, she makes a face at him, and he grabs her around the waist and hauls her in for a kiss. I smile to myself, wishing that was my life for a moment.
One little decision. That was the only difference between him and me. One decision charted very different courses for us.
She inches away, walking backward toward the pool and winking at her husband.
We watch her sit down next to a friend and sink her feet in the water.
“I’m happy for you,” I tell him.
But he doesn’t reply, just looks down, takes a drink, his brow troubled.
“You okay?”
His chest rises with a big breath. “I keep feeling like the shoe’s going to drop, you know?” He gives me a nervous smile. “Like something will creep up and take her from me or she’ll just wise up.”
I see the pulse in his neck throb, and I flex my jaw, completely fucking jealous. He doesn’t think he deserves to be this lucky, but he does.
“I guess that means I’m fucking in love with her, doesn’t it?” He lets out a small laugh.
“It’s nice to have a life you’re afraid of losing.”
Maybe I should tell him everything. Everything that happened all those years ago that he never knew about because he was gone from Green Street by then. Maybe then he would know how lucky he is and be present in every moment possible.
“You made some good choices,” I tell him.
But his face falls anyway. “I keep feeling like if I hadn’t taken all of us to that building in Weston, you’d still live here.”
“No,” I tell him, forcing my tone to stay even. “It went to shit, but that wasn’t the reason I left.”
Why don’t I just tell him? Tell someone?
But if I don’t talk about it, then I can pretend it’s not the reason for nearly every decision since.
His lips twitch. “I know something’s wrong, and I don’t know what else it could’ve been.”
I swallow the rest of my drink. I need to change the subject. “Well, I’m a little lonely,” I tease. “Should I stick around? I can scoop up your girl when she finally leaves your ass.”
He laughs, moving toward her. “Well, then I better have my fun with her while I can.” And he flips me the middle finger with a smile.
I watch him go, feeling like we’re twenty-two again for a split second.
He sidles up to her side, dropping his hand to her hair, and I set the glass down, moving around the deck, past Madoc. “I’ll go get another one of your bottles,” I tell him. And I veer for the side of the house.
Heading down the small hill, I make my way toward the basement entrance, but I catch sight of something massive and colorful and utterly ridiculous far out on the lawn.
It moves as people jump in and out of it, and I narrow my eyes, trying to remember if it’s someone’s birthday or something.
Is that a bounce house? Or eight of them, maybe? It’s huge.
What the fuck?
A collection of inflatable jumpers sit attached like a small city out on the grass, every single one in motion as kids—and teenagers—bounce around.
There’s a long, interactive one with a slide and climbing walls, as well as two castles, a couple of obstacle courses, and ones with tunnels.
Kade springs down a slide, doing somersaults.
And the scent of pizza hits my nose, goosebumps spreading across my arms.
Slowly, I turn and see Quinn behind the counter of the outdoor kitchen, the pizza oven behind her. My heart leaps in my chest.
She wears a canvas-colored apron, her swimsuit strings tied around her neck.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she says before I say anything.
“Yeah?” I ask, playing along.
She nods. “What the fuck is that?” she recites, jerking her chin at the inflatable city.
I just laugh, walking over and taking a seat on a stool at the counter as she places pepperoni on a pie. “That’s Madoc,” I explain. “You forget. I’ve known him longer.”
With her brother, no one is too old for toys.
“Do you think he knows he just invented a whole other meaning for ‘bounce house’ once his son gets Dylan in there?” she jokes.
I shake my head, amused. Yeah, the party will be going long after the parents have gone to bed. That’s for sure.
Madoc had told me the whole story of Dylan and Hunter, and how he almost lost his life to his best friend.
But he was laughing his ass off the whole time explaining it to me too. Apparently, I missed a good fight.