The Rival

Chapter Fifteen

QUINNWASSTILLfeeling rattled by everything that had happened in the last few hours, and now she was looking at his desk, which was...a mess.

“What’s the most pressing issue?”

“Just look at the budget files and the taxes on the computer. Nothing else.”

“I’m sure that I can figure it out. You can leave me to it. You can go back to your work.”

“Okay, then.” He turned, and she had a feeling that leaving her here was costing him, but she also had a feeling that he wanted to be here even less.

“It’ll be fine,” she said.

She started going through everything, and there weren’t a lot of handwritten records. There were a lot of things that were typed and printed. None of the typing had any punctuation, and he didn’t use capital letters. There were a couple of correspondences that had pretty atrocious grammar, considering that the computer would take care of most of that for you. Levi spoke fluidly, but that wasn’t how he wrote, that was for sure. She frowned as she looked at a communication with the shipping company where he had made a few homonym errors.

He was behind. On everything to do with paperwork, much more so than he had let on. There were a lot of invoices that weren’t completed. And it wasn’t even him being behind on making payments; it was him needing to collect payments, for meat that had already been shipped and sold.

It was not comprehensively put together, and it was definitely hurting him and his bottom line.

She wondered if he even knew at this point how far behind he was, and what all he had missed.

She started working her way through accounts, and then stopped to take a break, to do a little bit of research on Christmas tree farms and what large companies might be looking to contract out for the next few years. And if not contract out, then would take inventory on from a ranch. Because that would be the best, she figured. Somebody who would agree to buy the trees, in the way that he sold the cows. She could see there might be a little bit of convenience in doing the contracting, because then he wouldn’t have to invoice and manage sales individually, but she also knew that he was particular about maintaining rights to the land, and she could understand that.

She looked over at a file cabinet. He’d said to stick to the computer but...well, there was more to do. And wouldn’t it be helpful to keep on organizing?

She opened up the cabinet and laughed, because the files were just shoved inside in a stack. She moved one and frowned at a Post-it note on the front of it. Not what it said, but the writing. There was a phone number, she was pretty sure that’s what it was, and the fives were backward. And then there was a name, with a backward J and D. Her stomach squeezed tightly. He had obvious hallmarks of someone with dyslexia. She remembered when she had brought the binder, and he hadn’t actually read it. She thought he was being mean, but...

She felt uncomfortable, worse even than she had earlier, and that was saying something. Because she had been just so snotty to him, and she had made so many assumptions.

This was clearly a struggle for him, more than just not wanting to do it, which was what he pretended.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, and started putting different types of papers into categories.

She hadn’t even realized that four hours had gone by until he opened the door. “Hey. You hungry?”

“Yes,” she said.

“My sister is bringing a pizza from Mapleton. We do pizza a lot, even though it’s a big drive to get one.”

“Oh, I’d love that. It’s been forever since I’ve had takeout. Well, I had it more with you than I have for ages. That was my favorite thing about being in school, actually, the ease with which we could order food. So different than here.”

“I bet,” he said. He looked around the room. “You survived it.”

“Yeah. It’s... We should come up with the system,” she said.

If he wanted to tell her he was dyslexic, he would. And he hadn’t. So he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. So it probably wasn’t the right thing to do to bring it up. Anyway, maybe she was wrong.

Maybe he was just careless, but nothing about him seemed careless.

She walked out of the office slowly, and brushed past him closer than she meant to. She looked up at him, and she was startled yet again by the clarity of those blue eyes.

He was unknowable. She felt in so many ways like she had gotten to know him in the last few days—that was why the whole thing with his parents had affected her so deeply. She felt like she was wrapped around him somehow. Maybe because their fates were tied together, because his ranch was now connected with the success of hers—even if it wasn’t entirely fair of her to think of it that way because he hadn’t agreed to anything and none of this was his fault—or what, she couldn’t say. But she also felt like she hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of who he was, and more than that, she had never really felt the desire to know another person.

She had grown up with her sisters, and they had always been her best friends. Growing up on Four Corners, there was a rotating cycle of people who came and went, and there was really no point bothering to get to know them all that well. And then there were the original four families. The ones that were always there. And they were their own thing. She had never particularly clicked with any of them.

That was just the truth of it.

At school, she hadn’t really bothered to get to know anyone well because she had been so busy with school. That was what she told herself.

Was that really true? Was she busy with school or did she avoid getting to know people?

Did it all seem pointless because it always felt like they would leave? Except for her sisters, who were the only ones that she could trust?

That was such a weird realization to have standing in his house, about to have pizza with him and his sister. She didn’t know what it was about him that made her reflect on these kinds of things. Except maybe it was that he was different. A new person. And one that intrigued her in a way that no one else really had before. Part of her wanted to run away from that, and part of her wanted to lean in to it because it was just so interesting.

She liked to learn, after all. And this was an academically rigorous exercise. At least, it was a new experience.

Maybe that was all it was.

Except it felt different from that. She felt different from that.

“I mean, if you can. I would be thrilled with it.”

“I would have to know what works for you.”

He nodded. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“Levi, if you need some kind of particular sort of system...”

“What exactly...?”

“I’m back.”

Just then, Camilla came into the house, holding a pizza.

Quinn felt startled by the intrusion, like somebody had come in and popped a bubble that they were standing in. She had no clue why it felt so jarring. Why she felt vaguely embarrassed.

“It’s nice to see you again, Quinn,” said Camilla.

“You, too,” she said, still feeling slightly edgy and electrified.

“I hope you were helping him with his admin.”

“I was,” she said.

She wondered if Camilla knew how bad it actually was.

“Thank you. It makes me feel a lot better to know that he has some oversight.”

“I’m right here,” he said.

“I know,” said Camilla, smiling at him all bright and sunny, and it amused Quinn because Levi was so very not bright and sunny. She was glad that he had his sister in his life. She wanted to meet his other siblings. She pushed back hard against that impulse. Because it was just so out of the blue. And had absolutely nothing to do with any of this.

Why they were here, why she was helping.

Except she wasn’t really helping him just to get something in return anymore, was she?

Whatever. She was getting pizza for dinner. If that was all the payment she got, it was all the payment she got, and maybe it would do something to make up for what an asshole she’d been the past few days.

“This is from Mapleton,” Camilla said, plunking the pizza down in the middle of the table. “It’s a newer place. It’s really good.”

“It’s pizza,” said Levi. “It is the safest food on the planet. Even bad pizza is edible.”

Camilla wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about that. I remember when you tried to make pizza one time when you were maybe... I don’t know. I was probably like six? That was bad. I don’t know how you did it, but I think you burned the olives.”

“You ungrateful little weasel.”

“So calling people animal names is just something that you do?” Quinn asked.

Camilla cackled. “Have you been on the receiving end of his insults?”

“I have. He called me a carrot.”

“Levi used to try to not swear when we were little, so he got really creative with the stuff he would say. Funny. Until he uses it on you.”

That was like peeling back another layer on him. She sort of wished it wasn’t happening. Because she found all the top layers attractive—the way he looked, the way he moved. Seeing him as a whole person made it all so much harder.

But there was no point in getting mired in questioning it. She was here for dinner, so she might as well just...be here for dinner.

“I have noticed he’s very good at that.”

“Yeah. Well. Hopefully he’s not insulting you too much, since you’re helping him and all.”

“I’m not being altruistic, so don’t go thinking that I’m just doing him a favor.”

“Yeah. I know. Is he being reasonable?”

“I’m right here,” he said. “And I kind of resent being talked about like I’m not.”

“Welcome to my world,” said Camilla. “I’m only the youngest in this family. That’s basically my entire life. You people talking about what I want or should want while I’m right there.”

“Yeah. Well. Shouldn’t have been born last.”

“I had to be born last. Our mother died so quickly after me, there was no chance to get another one in.”

Quinn was a little taken off guard by the gallows humor, but Levi laughed. “Fair enough, Cam. Fair enough.”

He took a stack of paper plates out of the cabinet and set them on the counter, and she felt like she was getting a small window into how he had done things when his siblings were at home. Paper plates, pizza. And he had tried to learn to cook pizza, but was apparently very bad at it. And suddenly she was curious.

“Can you cook?”

“Yes,” he said. “I would never have survived if I couldn’t.”

“He learned eventually,” said Camilla.

“Yeah. The casserole brigade was around most nights before I did.”

Suddenly, he got a strange expression on his face, his jaw going tight. He looked away. She couldn’t read that moment, and Camilla hadn’t noticed it.

It was weird, to feel this companionable with him. Especially after the fight this morning. And after being dumped in the pond yesterday.

But she wanted to talk to him about the extent of the issues in the office. And the ways in which she could maybe help him organize if she understood exactly what his issues were.

But she didn’t want to bring it up in front of his sister, either.

They were sweet together. And it was strange, to see him be sweet. Maybe sweet was the wrong word, because there was a roughness to him no matter what.

But he had learned to cook for her.

For all of his siblings.

She was resisting this, him becoming more of a three-dimensional human. Especially one with deep, hard struggles.

Because it just made her feel even worse. This morning, she had felt overwhelmed by the unveiling of his parents’ graves. And then this evening, she kept thinking of all the times she had shoved text in his face, and the way that she had acted about college degrees.

Of course he felt like she was belittling him. This was a deep wound. Something that had undoubtedly colored his whole life. Made things difficult for him.

Made him feel like less.

When he had said that he skipped school, she could see why now.

It wasn’t about different values; it was about different strengths.

And she had been awful to assume the things that she had.

“Well,” said Camilla, “I think I’m going to go pack, since I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon. I have to drive all the way back to Santa Clara. I appreciate you being here, Quinn. Even if Levi won’t say it, I will.”

“It’s not a problem. I mean, it isn’t a burden. It hasn’t been.”

Levi didn’t say anything.

Camilla waved and then walked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

But suddenly, the room felt too small, and she looked out the back window. “You have a firepit out there, don’t you?”

She had noticed it when it was still light outside.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Can I see?”

“Sure,” he said.

If he thought it was strange, he didn’t say.

She was...searching for the right words. Because she knew that he was going to be angry that she had deviated from her exact task. Because it was what had exposed the dyslexia. He knew that he had it. He must.

But what if he didn’t?

She swallowed hard when they got outside. “This is pretty,” she said, looking around the area, all done with pavers and with seating everywhere. “I bet when everybody’s home it’s really fun.”

“Yeah,” he said.

She wondered if anybody really understood. She hadn’t, until today, somehow.

The weight that he carried. The way that he clearly wanted to be left alone to do his own thing, but how he was so enmeshed in the lives of all these other people, and solitary and not quite whole without them.

It must be awful.

She imagined it was what being a parent was like. Well, if you were a functional parent, and not like hers.

And she wanted to help him. Even though she knew she’d make him mad. She wanted to...to do something. To take care of him, maybe. It was the strangest, biggest burning shock of emotion she’d ever experienced. It was a callback to old Quinn.

To the one who had wanted to do well so badly, she’d insisted on herself. Followed her dad around day in, day out, chattering, badgering him.

Quinn, not today. The constant chattering is too damned annoying.

And the next day he’d left.

She knew there was a cost to this, and she still couldn’t help herself.

But you don’t love Levi. You just want to help. So you can handle it.

“I just... I needed to say something,” she said.

He looked at her, his expression sharp.

“What?”

“I went through some of your files, and I know that wasn’t really on the table. But I noticed some things.”

“Quinn, I didn’t tell you to look through it. It’s because I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I want to help you.”

And maybe she was blowing up the whole thing. The whole easement and everything. But it wasn’t just about that, not now.

“I wanted to talk to you about the... You’re dyslexic, right?”

“Quinn, I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“There are systems. For people with dyslexia. And there are ways that...”

“Are you going to stand there and tell me about my own brain? You must think I am really stupid, Quinn Sullivan, if you think that I need you to sort out what I have known about myself for most of my life. How do you think I’ve gotten this far?”

“Levi, I am not insulting you. It’s just that there are some things in the office that could be fine-tuned.”

“Yeah. Well, great. Well identified. I’m dyslexic. I can’t read. Not very well. How does that make you feel? That make you feel smart? Does it make you feel like you have something to teach me? Is this like some movie where you come in and transform the lives of people who are dumber than yourself?”

“You are not dumb, and I don’t think that you are. I never said that you were. I already told you it’s...it’s my own insecurity that makes me cling to the degree. It’s...it’s not about you.”

“But you value that degree, don’t you? I don’t know a whole hell of a lot of anything about book learning, do I? I know you can see that I don’t. I never will. I’m never going to read a book for fun, Quinn. I’m never going to read a book. It’s too fucking hard. I can’t do it. You shoving that shit in my face the other day on your phone... I couldn’t read it. I couldn’t read it. Not that I don’t want to. I can’t.”

He was angry.

She’d known he would be, but she’d lied to herself so well. She’d told herself she could handle it.

Now she felt bad. Like when he’d shown her his parents’ graves. She was digging into things that she knew he had put a fence around. But she was being understanding, and she really couldn’t understand why it was setting him off like this. Surely the dyslexia wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. It explained things. It made her understand.

She didn’t understand why he should be so mad that she knew.

Because he’s proud. And you’re stepping all over it. This is why he didn’t want help to begin with. This is why...

“This hurts you, doesn’t it? Knowing this about me. Because I’ll never be anything you value, and you still want me.”

That shook her. Jolted her out of her thoughts. “Excuse me?”

“You want me, even knowing that I am an illiterate idiot. You were looking at me that day down by the pond. You couldn’t stop yourself—that was why you had to so determinedly stare at anything else. Because even knowing that I am basically a caveman, you burn for me. Not those asshole college boys that you went to school with. Me. Because you know that I might not know how to read, but I could show you a damned good time. I don’t have to be smart to know how to find exactly where you want me to touch you.”

She started to shake, that familiar adrenaline from sparring with him rising up inside her, but more. It was always more. With him, always.

That shameful desire that she felt burning for him in her gut, but she wasn’t ashamed for the reason that he thought.

You’re not ashamed. You’re afraid.

Yeah. She was terrified. Terrified of this man, all six-foot-two muscled cowboy, furious and filled with the kind of sexual promise that she had never wanted to desire quite this badly. But she did. Hell, she really did.

And they could never be anything. Because she didn’t want anything, and neither did he. Not because she was smart and he was dumb, or whatever narrative he thought lived inside her.

But it was just impossible. They didn’t like each other, let alone...

But he was calling it out. Identifying it. Saying exactly what it was, and she wished to hell that he wouldn’t.

She really wished that he wouldn’t.

Because it made her feel... It made her feel...

“Levi, that is not what I think, and it is not... It’s not what I think.”

“I think on some level it is. Because it excites you, doesn’t it? The idea of slumming it with me. And, you know, maybe you’re not totally wrong. I’ll be way better than any of those guys ever were. Because I don’t need to think. I have instincts. We have chemistry.”

“No,” she said. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, I know, because I should be a big turnoff for you, shouldn’t I?”

“Stop it,” she said. “Stop trying to make it seem like I’m a snob, or like I disdain you. I don’t. You know I don’t. I’m not my father and you know that, but you want me to keep my distance right now and I’m not sure why. But don’t make it about me when it’s actually about you. When I saw all that up there, I realized how hard you work to do as well as you do and...”

“You are a condescending, mousy little carrot,” he said. “And why the hell I want to kiss you, I don’t know. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you, and I’m sick of this. Walk away right now.”

“No,” she said, standing there, knowing that she was tempting him. Knowing that she was pushing it, and not caring. “I’m not walking away.”

Fourteen-year-old Quinn, whose crush had been abandoned so long ago in an act of self-protection, cheered.

“Then on your head be it, little carrot.”