Chapter Six
Unexpected Friend
Quinn
There are two types of mornings. The kind where you wake up feeling refreshed and ready to take on the world. And the kind where you wake up staring at the ceiling wondering how your life got so confusing overnight.
Today is definitely the second one.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the white ceiling of my bedroom while sunlight spills through the curtains in thin golden lines. My alarm clock says 8:12 AM, which means I’ve been awake for at least twenty minutes pretending I’m still asleep.
Because sleeping is easier than thinking. Unfortunately, my brain has other ideas. It keeps replaying last night like some kind of emotional highlight reel. The grocery store and Emette’s voice. The word stupid.
My chest tightens just remembering it. I close my eyes and drag a slow breath into my lungs. It shouldn’t bother me this much. People say things when they’re frustrated. Everyone knows that. Relationships aren’t perfect and sometimes couples fight or snap at each other. That’s normal.
Right?
Still... The memory of Damien’s voice floats through my mind. You shouldn’t let him talk to you like that.
I groan softly and throw an arm over my face. Great. Now Damien Grey is living rent-free in my brain, too.
Which is ridiculous. He’s just a friend. A nice, quiet, slightly nerdy friend who happens to look unexpectedly good in glasses. That’s it. Nothing more.
Except ... I can’t stop thinking about the way he said those words in the parking lot.
When you’re done playing with boys ... there’s a man out there who’ll treat you the way you deserve.
At the time I thought he meant it in that general, supportive way people do when they’re trying to make you feel better. But now? Now I’m not so sure.
I sit up quickly, shaking the thought away. Nope. Absolutely not. I am not starting my day by analyzing Damien Grey’s motivational speeches like some kind of relationship detective.
Instead, I climb out of bed and head for the kitchen. Coffee will fix this. Coffee fixes everything. Dear God, I hope coffee fixes this.
The smell of fresh grounds fills the air a few minutes later as the coffee maker sputters to life. I lean against the counter and stare out the window at the quiet street outside my house.
Franklinton is still waking up. A few cars pass by. Someone down the street is mowing their lawn and somewhere a dog barks enthusiastically at absolutely nothing. Small-town mornings.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a long sip. Better, much better.
My phone buzzes on the counter. I glance down expecting to see Emette’s name on the screen but instead, it’s Skye.
Skye: Cupcake emergency. House of Ink. ASAP.
I laugh softly. Of course it is. I text back quickly.
Me: Define emergency.
Three little dots appear instantly.
Skye: Laine ate the last one and now Alistair says he’s starving.
I roll my eyes affectionately. Men.
Me: Give me thirty minutes.
Skye: YOU ARE MY HERO.
I set the phone down and smile. Whatever complicated thoughts are swirling around my head this morning, one thing remains constant. The guys at House of Ink always make my day better.
****
Thirty minutes later I’m pulling my car into the familiar parking spot outside the shop with a fresh batch of cupcakes sitting carefully in the passenger seat. Chocolate again, because apparently the entire crew has collectively decided chocolate is the superior flavor.
The bell above the door jingles when I step inside.
“Please tell me that’s what I think it is,” Skye calls immediately.
I laugh. “Good morning to you, too.”
She pops up from behind the counter like an overly excited jack-in-the-box.
Her dark hair is pulled into a messy bun and her eyes light up the moment she sees the bakery box in my hands.
“Cupcakes,” she breathes dramatically.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” she says, already grabbing the box from me. “But I’m a ridiculous woman with pregnancy cravings and baked goods.”
The shop is the same as always. Bright artwork covering the walls. The hum of tattoo machines. The faint smell of ink and antiseptic hanging in the air.
It’s comfortable here. Familiar.
“Quinn!” Alistair calls from his booth.
“Morning.”
Laine glances up from his station where he’s sketching something on a tablet. “Please tell me you brought extras.”
“I always bring extras.”
“Good,” he says. “Because Alistair eats like a horse.”
“Hey!” Alistair protests.
Skye opens the box and gasps dramatically. “Oh, my God.”
“What now?” I ask.
“These look amazing.”
“They’re cupcakes.”
“They’re art.”
I laugh and shake my head. Then my eyes drift across the room automatically. Damien sits at the small desk near the back, laptop open in front of him. He’s wearing those glasses again, his brow furrowed slightly as he types something into a spreadsheet.
He looks up at that exact moment and our eyes meet. And something warm spreads through my chest.
“Morning,” he says.
“Morning.”
Skye hands out cupcakes like it’s her job, while the rest of the crew gathers around the counter. Damien eventually stands and walks over, accepting one quietly.
“You’re going to single-handedly destroy our productivity,” he tells me.
“Worth it.”
He takes a bite and his eyes close for half a second. That tiny reaction sends an unexpected flutter through my stomach.
“They’re good,” he says. “That’s the third batch this week.”
“I’m testing recipes.”
“Scientific research,” he says seriously.
“Exactly.”
For a few minutes the conversation stays light. Jokes. Cupcakes. Normal things. But eventually the topic I’ve been avoiding all morning surfaces anyway.
Skye glances between Damien and me with obvious curiosity. “So,” she says slowly.
My stomach sinks. “So ... what?”
“I heard you two ran into each other at the grocery store last night.”
I glare at her. “How did you...”
“Franklinton,” she says simply.
Right. Small town. News travels faster than Wi-Fi.
“It was nothing,” I say quickly.
Damien doesn’t say anything, which somehow makes it worse.
Skye’s eyes narrow slightly. “Uh-huh.”
Laine looks up from his tablet. “Emette was there, too, right?”
My chest tightens. “Yes.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
Luke snorts. “That didn’t sound convincing.”
I cross my arms. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
Damien shifts beside me. “He called her stupid.”
The words hit the room like a dropped glass. Everyone goes quiet and my face burns.
“Damien!”
“What?” he says calmly. “That’s what happened.”
Skye’s expression darkens instantly. “He said what?”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” I insist quickly.
Laine sets his tablet down slowly. “Sounds like a big deal.”
“It wasn’t.”
Luke mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like asshole and I suddenly regret coming here today. Not because of them but because of the attention.
“I’m fine,” I say firmly.
Skye studies my face for a moment. Then she sighs. “Okay.”
The conversation shifts back to safer topics after that. Work. Tattoo designs. Cupcake flavors. Eventually people drift back to their stations.
I lean against the counter sipping coffee Skye made earlier while Damien returns to his desk. A few minutes later Laine walks over and leans against the wall beside him. I can’t hear everything they’re saying. But I catch my name and my curiosity spikes.
Damien says something quietly and Laine glances toward me, then back at his brother.
His voice drops lower, but I still catch the next words clearly. “Careful, kid.”
I freeze.
“With what?” Damien asks.
Laine chuckles softly. “Falling for a girl who already has a boyfriend never ends well.”
My stomach flips and I look away quickly before anyone notices I was listening. Because surely ... surely they can’t be talking about me.
Right? But when I risk another glance across the room a few seconds later, Damien is already looking in my direction. And the expression on his face makes one very inconvenient thought echo through my mind. Maybe this friendship isn’t as simple as I thought.