6. Quinn
6
quinn
I’m thirty-four years old. I’m paid—or rather, was paid—to mold the minds of the future. To teach them right and wrong and how to make good decisions.
Which is rich, because I don’t think I’ve made a good decision since, well…
Shit. If you can’t think of anything besides the day you decided to get a cat then you probably haven’t made many good decisions.
Though that one good decision was the best choice I made. I know I’m biased, but Turtle is a superior feline, and there will be no debates on that topic.
But other than that, every other decision? Trash.
Oh, and it’s usually a decision I made without thinking through things at all. Consequences of my actions? That’s future Quinn’s problem.
Take, for example, in high school, when I ran for class president. It wasn’t because I had this need for political service. Nope, I just didn’t like the girl who was running. We never got along, she was a horrible bully, and she ratted on a bunch of us who threw a party and didn’t invite her.
But being class president was her entire personality. So I ran against her solely for the plot.
Then I went and won. Which meant instead of cruising in my senior year, I was leading meetings, speaking at graduation, and now apparently in charge of class reunions for the rest of my life.
No one told me that part.
Then there’s how I ended up in Arizona. Now, not living in Rolling Hills was a definite—no one could’ve paid me to live in the town where the Emily Babcocks of the world and people who otherwise knew me as Hurricane still resided. But it’s the story of how I ended up on the other side of the country.
I threw a dart at a map, and that’s where it landed.
Fast forward thirteen years later and now I’m not sure if that was my best move.
Then there’s last night, where I did the stupidest thing I could ever think of doing—I spent the night with Porter.
After sex.
I don’t spend nights.
Ever.
I’m a hit it and quit it kind of gal. Get out of there before the sun comes up. No awkward conversations. No chance for anyone to say that they’ll call when they won’t. And most importantly? No cuddling.
Cuddling leads to feelings. And we don’t have room for feelings here.
I don’t even remember falling asleep, which is probably because the man fucked me into a coma. One second I’m actually begging for him to fuck me, the next I’m waking up having to go to the bathroom. I thought I’d just closed my eyes for a second. So consider me shocked when I realized it was five-forty-five in the morning and Porter’s muscled arm was draped across me. I don’t know how I Houdini’d myself out of his bedroom, or his hold, but somehow I did.
Either that, or he pretended to sleep and let me think I won.
Which, if he did that, will earn him a future blow job. It’s the least I can do.
Knowing I was going back to Porter’s after Ainsley dropped me off, I stopped drinking way before my sisters did. That way I could pretend to go inside and then wait a few minutes until she drove away before grabbing the spare keys for my mom’s car. And now, luckily, because the sun isn’t up, no one is around to see me drive away from his old farmhouse and make the ten-minute drive to my parents.
“One of these days, Quinn, you’re going to stop being dumb,” I say to myself as I turn onto the empty road. “Obviously not today. But one of these days.”
What was I thinking last night? Oh. I know. I was horny and sad. That’s what I was thinking. Which means now I’m doing a true walk of shame while simultaneously praying that my dad sleeps in today and doesn’t get up at his normal six in the morning.
“For once in your life, Dad, remember you’re retired and stay in bed.”
I shut off the car, take a breath for good luck, and make my way to the front door. Over the years, I got really good at turning the lock with minimal noise. It was clutch in high school. Who knew it would be a skill that would come in handy later in life?
I slowly open it, doing my best to minimize the sound, and at first, I don’t hear anything. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing I just have to make my way up the stairs then a quick turn into my bedroom before I’m scot-free.
I slip off my shoes, not wanting any extra weight for noise, and just as I hit the third step, I hear a voice that stops me cold.
“Good morning, Quinn.”
And suddenly I’m sixteen again, getting busted by John Banks after sneaking out to a senior party even though I was only a sophomore.
Ha! Funny enough, I think that was the first night I hung out with Porter.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Do I want to know?”
I don’t turn around. I can’t bear to look at him and his likely disappointed face as I’m still wearing my clothes from the night before. “Nope.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yup.”
He lets out a sigh. “I thought once you moved out of my house we’d be done with this.”
“Believe me, so did I.”
Neither of us say anything, and I’m too scared to turn around. Luckily, he breaks the silence.
“Go get some sleep. But when you wake up, you know we’re going to need to talk. About everything .”
It’s the way he emphasizes that last word makes me turn to face him.
Now, this scene right here is not the first time I’ve been busted by my dad sneaking into, or out of, this house. And yes, I was always punished. But I never thought it was unfair. Dad was a lawyer for forty-two years, and I always appreciated the way he weighed out the crime and balanced the punishment.
Having more than a few run-ins like this in my teenage years, my dad and I got really close. Which is odd to say for the troublemaker kid, but our punishment sessions always ended up more than just him grounding me. And with that, we came to really know each other. I could always tell when he had a bad case and something was bothering him about it. On the other end, he could sense when I was hiding something. The man could read me like no other.
So with him emphasizing “everything,” I have a feeling that he’s not meaning to talk to me about stumbling in during the morning hours. No, he knows this is more than a weekend trip home.
John Banks just knows me that well.
“We will, Dad. I promise.”
He nods, and signals for me to go up the stairs. “Get some sleep. I won’t tell your mom you stole her car. Again.”
That makes me smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
He just shakes his head and mumbles something about pain-in-the-ass daughters as I make my way to my old bedroom.
I immediately fall onto the mattress, but sleep doesn’t come easy. My brain is running a million miles an hour.
Thoughts of Porter and I last night.
Admitting to my parents that I quit my job without any sort of backup plan.
My ass hurting from Porter spanking me.
Wondering what the hell I’m going to do with my life.
Porter coating my nipple in my own come.
Can I apply for unemployment?
My brain goes in a loop like that until I eventually fall asleep, with the last thought being Porter’s arm on me as I woke up this morning, holding me like he didn’t want me to go.
* * *
“Good morning, sleepyhead. Or should I say afternoon?”
I groan at Maeve’s words as I come down the stairs to see not only my mom and dad sitting in the living room, but all of my siblings. My eyes are still filled with sleep from the nap I took, but from the looks of it, the whole gang is here, minus partners and children.
Which kind of sucks. I was hoping I could use my niece or nephew as conversation shields.
“I didn’t realize I was walking out to a family reunion.”
“Well, we didn’t realize that you were coming home on a whim, so you can say we’re all surprised.”
I ignore my brother’s dig and bypass everyone as I go straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I stand at the sink, chugging the cold, refreshing goodness. Have I drank anything since last night? I don’t think I have. I usually live in a constant state of dehydration, but this is bad, even for me.
“There’s a Gatorade in the fridge and an iced coffee for when you need it.”
I turn to Ainsley, the caretaker of our group, who’s leaning against the breakfast bar.
“Thank you,” I say, polishing off the water before grabbing the two drinks. “How long has everyone been here?”
“About an hour,” she says. “We’re worried about you.”
I shake my head. “No one needs to worry.”
She gives me a look as if she’s not buying it. “But we are. Especially me.”
“You always worry about me. I’m going to be fine. Once I?—”
“Where did you go last night?”
I’m known to have the best poker face out of all the Banks siblings. But even I couldn’t be ready to steel my face from that statement. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you pull out of the driveway.” She pauses for a second to make sure no one else is in earshot. “I dropped you off and got a little ways down the road when I realized I had to go to the bathroom. I was not going to make the forty-minute drive back to Nashville and everything was closed. So I turned around to Mom and Dad’s, and that’s when I saw you pull out of the driveway. Where did you go?”
Fuck. Eight years. I’ve done this for eight years and have never been caught. Figures it’s Ainsley who finally catches me. It’s kind of poetic that the wild Banks child is busted by the angel.
“I’ll tell you later, but can it wait? I can only handle so many confessions in one day, and I have a feeling the gallery needs to know the important one first.”
She nods and takes my hand in hers. “Of course. But just let me know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” I say as I give her hand a squeeze.
Very fine…
“Okay,” she says. “Let’s go. The quicker you tell them, the quicker it’s over.”
I know she’s right, so when we get back to the living room, and a hush falls over the room as I sit down on a couch. I do as Ainsley suggests and rip the Band-Aid.
“Family, I didn’t come home because I missed all of you. I’m home because I quit my job, told a group of awful mothers to go fuck themselves, and don’t know what I’m going to do with my life now. I’ll now be taking questions from the floor.”
I think it says a lot about who I am as a person that not one person in the room gasps. No flabbers are ghasted. Granted, my sisters know the story. But I was hoping maybe a little bit of shock from my mom. A groan from my dad. Simon to be…well….his normal, over-the-top, self.
But nope. Nothing.
“Okay,” Dad begins as he lets my words sink in. “Tell us the story.”
And I do. Probably with a little more of a clear head than last night, and even through a few parts, I can tell that I did leave out some details. But by the end, the words and outcome are the same.
I don’t have a job, and I have no idea what’s next.
“Wow,” Mom says. Finally, someone who’s a little surprised at my antics! “Their name was really P.E.N.I.S.? I feel like that was a short-sighted choice on their parts.”
There’s a moment of silence before an absolute eruption of laughter takes over the Banks living room. Leave it to Demetria Banks for the unintended comedy relief.
“Oh, wow, Mom,” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes because I’m still laughing. “I needed that.”
“And I need to give them a piece of my mind,” she says. “How dare they think that they know better than teachers? Teachers are a blessing on this Earth. Because I tell you what, if I would’ve had to stay home with all five of you for every one of your eighteen years, well…I…”
“We would’ve gone mad,” Dad says, finishing her statement. “Quinn, I know this is sudden, and you probably are trying to get a handle on a lot of things right now. But I need you to know, I’m proud of you. We both are.”
Dad reaches over for my mom’s hand as she nods in approval.
“Really?”
He nods. “You stood up for what’s right. For what you believed in. You five might’ve turned out very different, which we love, but we taught you all to have beliefs and to be true to them. And that’s what you did. And that takes a lot of courage that not many have.”
Now the tears are coming out for a whole different reason. “Thanks, Dad.”
Each one of my siblings comes over to me, giving me some sort of awkward hug.
It’s at that point that I look over to Maeve, who I know is dying to repeat the question she had for me last night.
“I don’t know,” I say, answering before she can say it. “I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I…I don’t know anything.”
“Um, that’s not the right answer,” Simon chirps up.
“Excuse me? I know you think you know everything, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have my right answer.”
“Oh, but little sister, I do,” he says with a smirk. “You’re going to move back here.”
I have to blink a few times to make sure my brother said what I think he just said. “Did you say move back here?”
“Oh yes! Quinn! Please move home!” Mom leaps from her seat next to my dad and scooches her way in between me and Maeve so she can wrap me in a hug that feels more choking—smothering—than comforting. “Come to where you have family. You know me and your dad miss you. Your sisters miss you. You have a niece and nephew I know you miss. Why do this alone in Arizona when you can figure out what’s next here?”
“I—” I start to object before I realize I don’t have a lot to object about. Yes, I have some friends, but none that I feel like I need to stay for. I’m sure word will travel around Phoenix about what I did and said, making it so no school in the area will ever hire me again.
But…moving back to Rolling Hills? Doing the one thing I vowed to never do?
I don’t think I can commit to that in this kind of emotional state.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “First, where would I live? Mom, Dad, I love you, but I’m pretty sure none of us would love each other if I moved back in this house.”
“Oh, you aren’t moving back here,” Dad says. “I’m done having to worry about when you’re coming and going.”
He gives me a wink as we share the inside joke.
“Easy,” Simon says. “The apartment above Mona’s Diner is open. You’ll stay there.”
I shake my head. “Simon, that’s great and all, but you’re not going to just give me an apartment. I’d pay rent.”
He waves me off. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about. But I don’t want you not having a place to live being the reason you don’t get your ass back here.”
I let out a sigh as I turn to look at my sisters, who are all now sitting and looking at me with pleading, puppy-dog eyes.
“I know you three have to be loving this,” I say. “But if I agree to do this, I need you to know that this isn’t permanent. It’s just for now. Until I figure out my next move.”
The three eagerly nod their heads before Stella speaks up. “We miss you, Quinn. However long you’re here, we’re glad to have you back.”
Maeve takes my hand. “Let us help you. This is going to be a big thing to figure out, and you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”
I finally look at Ainsley, even though I know what she’s going to say. “Any chance you’re going to be the dissenting vote?”
She shakes her head at my attempt at a joke. “Absolutely not. Come home, Quinn. Where you belong.”